Plain Jane and Mr. Wrong (Plain Jane Series Book 4)

by Tmonique Stephens

  “Who are you?” Lawson demanded. Harden didn’t need to ask the question when he already had the answer.

  “I’m Bailey Monroe.” She held up her left hand, showing off the diamond ring on her fourth finger. “Emmet’s fiancée.” Her gaze, now flinty, her mouth a thin, hostile line. “Where the fuck is he?”

  Harden shrugged. “Why would I know where Emmet is?”

  A grimace crossed her face. She wasn’t pleased by the question. “Emmet told me that story so I could prove who I am.”

  “You proved it,” Lawson said, interest in his voice.

  “Good.” Her hands settled on her slim hips. “The last thing Emmet wrote to me before he vanished was to go to Harden if anything happens.”

  Goddamnit! Harden gritted his teeth. “Has something happened?”

  She frowned at him and turned to Julius. “It’s your yacht we were on, the one that got shot to shit after we left.”

  “Yeah.” Julius nodded, his hands folded, glaring at her.

  “All three of you are his friends. Tell me where he is.” She demanded calmly.

  “I asked you a question and you will answer me,” Harden said. “Has something happened to Emmet?”

  “I don’t know.” She snarled, losing her cool. A fine tremble started in her arm, then ran the length of her body. Bailey was close to losing her shit. “That’s why I’m here.”

  That was a relief. As far as Harden was concerned, no news was better than bad news. “If Emmet wanted you to know, he would’ve told you where he was going,” Harden said.

  She sighed, but she wasn’t done. Her eyes, already hard, deadened.

  Shit. Harden had seen that exact expression on Emmet before he killed something.

  Bruno burst into the room, fury on his face, gun drawn and trained on her. Three more men were with him. Harden held up his hand, halting Bruno and the others from doing anything further.

  Bruno’s gaze bounced around the room, his weapon still trained on the woman. “Fat Johnny’s on the ground in the hallway. Unconscious. Where’s the fucker who did it?”

  “That fucker would be me,” Bailey said.

  “You?” Bruno spat. “Johnny’s three hundred pounds of fat.”

  “Balls, eyes, throat. He went down and hit his head. Took a nap. Why is that so hard to understand?” She threw up her hands.

  “You’re Hank’s daughter, right?” Julius asked.

  Harden had forgotten about that tidbit. But now it made perfect sense how she strolled in here with demands, demands she most likely had the skills to back up.

  She scowled. “Leave my father out of this.”

  “Does he know you’re here?” Julius pressed.

  She propped her hand on her hip. “Why would I need to tell him?”

  No one had an answer for that question, which didn’t mean Harden didn’t open his mouth to give an answer.

  Bailey cut him off. “So, all of you are afraid of my father. Good to know.” She strolled further into the room, unconcerned about her safety. “Look. Here’s the deal. If I go off halfcocked and get myself killed, Emmet won’t be pleased. My father won’t be pleased. Friendship be damned. Do you all want two master hitmen holding a blood grudge against all of you?”

  Harden wasn’t afraid of much. The combination of Hank and Emmet lined up against him, his gut clenched. If she took out Fat Johnny and worked her way into the club, amongst his people, that proved she wasn’t a complete novice. Emmet rescued her ass, Harden knew enough of the backstory, but she wasn’t a passenger. The chick knew enough to be dangerous. Hopefully, she had some common sense along with skill and survival instinct.

  “We think he’s in Russia.”

  “That’s a big damn count. Where in Russia?” Her tone was clipped, downright aggressive.

  Harden weighed his options and found he had few. Leading her on a wild goose chase through Russia would only put her in more danger. But so would telling her the truth. Damned if you do. Damned if you don’t. He rolled the dice and said, “Moscow.”

  “Among other places, like United Emirates, Saudi Arabia, Qari…” Julius added.

  “He didn’t check in with us. We do not know.” Was Lawson’s contribution to the discussion since he was out of the loop—on purpose—and knew less than nothing.

  She nodded once and stared off in the distance. “Alright. Thanks for the information. I have a starting point.” She spun to leave.

  “Whoa. Starting point?” Harden snapped. Don’t tell me I have to lockdown Emmet’s fiancée to keep her safe. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  Bailey smiled. “I’m going back to my house in Atlanta to sit on my porch with a glass of sweet tea and wait for my man to come back home.”

  “That a good plan.” Lawson piped in.

  Harden, Julius, and Bruno glared at him like the idiot he was.

  “You’re not going to Atlanta or anywhere else.” Harden had an empty apartment next door to his penthouse to keep her in until Emmet returned. With a tip of his head, he signaled to Bruno.

  Mistake number one: Bruno lowered his gun. No hesitation, Bailey rushed him. She grabbed his wrist. She had a snowball’s chance in hell of moving Bruno. So, she did the next best thing. She spun into his body with an elbow to his throat and a strike to his nose.

  Nose bleeding, gagging from the strike to his windpipe, Bruno doubled over. She tried to wrest the gun out of his hand. Bruno had a vise grip on his weapon. Instead, he wrapped his arm around her waist, locking her to his body, even as she continued to control the gun still clutched in his hand.

  Maybe it was wrong but the three of them, Harden, Lawson, and Julius, watched the struggle with rapt attention, waiting to see her next move.

  From a well-concealed slit above her cleavage, she pulled a three-inch circular pike with a braided handle at one end and a sharp point at the other. She placed it at his throat, right at the jugular. Bruno froze. Breathing heavily, Bailey’s attention shifted to Harden. She knew who was in charge.

  Harden wasn’t overly concerned she’d follow through. Because of Emmet, she walked in here knowing she wouldn’t be harmed. That consideration flowed both ways. “You forced your way in here spouting details only Emmet could’ve told you because he trusts you and he trusts me. You harm my underboss, that trust goes out the window. There will be consequences, bloody consequences between myself, your father, and my best friend.”

  No uncertainty in her eyes, not one tremor in her hand as the pike continued to flirt with Bruno’s jugular. The door opened and more of his men and two of Julius’s men flooded into the room. With a snap of Harden’s fingers, they all froze.

  “Thank you for the information. Now, I’m leaving. Keeping me against my will is not in anyone’s best interest, or health.” The blade eased away from Bruno’s throat at the same time she released his wrist. Bruno allowed his arm to drop from her waist, completely separating them.

  Bruno held his nose, glaring death at her, his gun still in his hand while she smiled sweetly at him. Harden suspected that was as close to an apology he was going to get.

  “Gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure. You’re all invited to the wedding if I don’t kill him myself.”

  The men cleared a path to the exit, their collective anger thick in the air. Not a word was shared until the door closed behind her.

  Harden signaled to two men. “Make sure she leaves and get the license plate number.” The two took off while Bruno vanished into the restroom. This wasn’t his first broken nose. The first by a chick, though.

  “Fuck! That was exciting.” Lawson exploded as if he’d held his breath the entire time and was finally allowed to breathe. “That’s what I need. A bad bitch who knows how to handle her shit. Does she or Calista have any siblings you two can hook me up with?”

  Scoffing, Julius shook his head and beat feet to the exit. “I’m outta here.”

  Julius passed Nick on the way out. Nick took one look at the specks of blood on the beige carpet
and said, “What did I miss?”

  Harden turned back to the glass wall, his mind churning. There wasn’t a way to contact Emmet, and even if there were, he couldn’t risk it. The smallest amount of exposure trying to contact a man deep undercover was too dangerous. And he’d never had a way of contacting Hank because Emmet was his intermediary. Still, where there’s a will, there’s a way. He had to reach out to Hank in the hopes he’d get his daughter under control before she wrecked all their carefully laid plans.

  Fucking women. The bane of his existence. First Calista, now Bailey. Behind him, Bruno shouted something from the bathroom. Lawson responded with his usual nonsense. The rest of his men milled around, uncertain what to do without instruction. Nick handled it, ordering them to return to their posts while Harden searched for Jentry. Just a glance at her would calm him. The need for her growing exponentially everyday regardless of his actions denying the inevitable. Like grains of sand in an hourglass trickling out, one grain at a time they were on a collision course. It would be messy, and painful, yet so worth it. He knew it and suspected she knew it too.

  Harden kept searching for her. And searching. And searching. Frustration growing, he searched the crowd, his hand in his pocket about to call Lee to find her. Then his gaze lit on her and the two men surrounding her as Nick’s voice whispered in his ear.

  “Boss. The Ukrainians are here.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “I’m sorry. Can I help you with something, sir?” Jentry played it stupid. It was the only card she had in her deck even though it was futile. They knew who she was and had tracked her down.

  Bresnik’s smile was as cold as Harden’s eyes and as hard as the fingers digging into her skin. “The deception may have worked if there wasn’t a copy of your driver’s license on file at Split-Tail.” His accent was subtle, yet there.

  The congenial customer service grin melted off her face. “Fine. What do you want?”

  “A conversation. In private.” He snatched the headset off her head and tossed it while the hand clamped around her forearm tightened.

  There went her chance to call for help even though she was surrounded by gyrating bodies. People were fickle, none more so than New Yorkers.

  Bresnik dragged her through the crowded dance floor to the center of the room. Sandwiched between Bresnik and Fisnik, they moved against her in an erotic slip ’n slide. This was as private as a spotlight in a dark room. Bresnik wanted them to be seen and this was the perfect place. Harden wasn’t here, at least he wasn’t the last time she checked. She wanted to look at the skybox which, ten minutes ago, was dark. Taking her eyes off Bresnik could be fatal even if he’d have to be crazy to assault her in Denizen.

  Looking into his eyes, she realized he was only a few stops short of batshit. Not comforting information.

  Hating their touch, she pushed against first Bresnik, who didn’t budge. Spinning halfway, she took on Fisnik with the same results. They squeezed her between them, all under the pretense of dancing. Hands landed on her hips, another set grabbed her breasts. Lost in the thick of the crowd, no one could see her, not the circling staff or bouncers. She glanced up at the now illuminated skybox. Three figures were there, one of them Harden; he’d finally appeared for the relaunch. Whoopie! In his skybox, he had the perfect view, would definitely see her, if his back weren’t to the glass wall.

  Jentry was on her own.

  “Get to the point.” She gritted between her teeth as Fisnik’s hands roamed to her breasts, squeezing painfully. Her ass received the same treatment when he slid his hands beneath her skirt and gripped both globes. Bile clawed up her throat as he groped and ground his hard cock between her cheeks. She couldn’t move, couldn’t get away, even a scream wouldn’t have been heard over the pounding music.

  “You worked for Split-Tail, that means you worked for us, and we haven’t terminated your contract.” Bresnik leered.

  What the fuck were they talking about? “There’s no contract I signed with Split-Tail. None. I worked the stage. I worked the tables. The club got a percentage of my earnings. I was a free agent,” she said with concise sentences. No beating around the bush.

  “You work for us. You want to leave, you got to pay.” Bresnik rubbed his fingers together in the universal sign signifying money.

  They were insane and she was incensed at the hands on her body and the assholes surrounding her. “I have to pay you before I can quit a job? This is America. People quit all the time and don’t have to pay for the privilege of leaving a crappy job! I’m not giving you a dime.”

  “You have a baby. A family. A mom. A dad. They live in Queens. Siblings. Three sisters.”

  Jentry smiled at Bresnik because her entire family was safe. He couldn’t touch them.

  “Two of your sisters are in high school.”

  Yep, but her mother had removed them. They are at the beach house on Long Island with tutors provided by Julius Morgan, you fucking asshat.

  “And the last sister is right over there.” He pointed and Jentry saw Jane talking to a burly guy who looked up and winked at Jentry. Jane angled her head to see who the guy winked at and saw her sister.

  Her blood ran cold.

  “I’m leaving here with one of you. Who will it be?”

  She glanced at Jane again, but she was gone. Just gone. “Where is she?”

  Bresnik tsked. “You took too long to choose so I chose for you. You want your sister back, you got to pay. Or Harden Gage has to pay. You tell him,” he shouted as his fingers dug painfully into her hips. “Money or blood, you tell him, Jentry.”

  “Tell me yourself.”

  Her head whipped to the right and there, strobe lights dancing around in a macabre hide-and-seek, Harden stood, big as a billboard. A living breathing target. She had the insane idea of throwing herself in front of him, a living shield to protect him. Then she spotted the gun in his hand, held low, yet pointed at Bresnik.

  “You’re supposed to be at Catalyst,” Bresnik said, surprise in his voice.

  Harden chuckled without an ounce of humor in his voice. “I’m there right now, just like I’m here right now.” Some makeup and a wig and—from a distance—Leonid could pass for Harden. And that’s how he was in two places at once, Jentry surmised. “Remove your hands from the lady.”

  Bresnik didn’t move and neither did his twin, who tightened his painful grip on her ass. “Not until you hear what I have to say.”

  Bruno appeared over Bresnik’s shoulder with tissue plugging his clearly broken nose like tampons. One of Bresnik’s men must’ve tagged him. By the fierce look in Bruno’s bloodshot eyes, that man was dead. Bresnik stiffened as if he’d been goosed. Jentry was one hundred percent positive Bruno hadn’t stuck his finger up Bresnik’s ass. That meant he stuck a gun somewhere, maybe in that back passage.

  Hands dropped from her body. Before she could react, Harden yanked her from between the Ukrainians and pushed her behind his back. She couldn’t let him ignore her when Jane was missing. “He has my sister, my sister Jane. One of his men took her,” she shouted over the still pounding music.

  Bresnik smirked.

  Harden’s laugh was drier than Nevada in August. “Do you have her, Bresnik? Are you certain?”

  What did that mean? Jentry refused to get excited.

  “The fact is you think you have her. Just like you think you’re safe because you have five men stationed around the room. You counted on me not being here because you have a spy at Catalyst, an employee perhaps.” Harden shrugged. He didn’t give a damn. “He saw what I wanted him to see. Just like you didn’t see the ten men I have who came to celebrate the reopening. And wasn’t it suspicious how easily you infiltrated the club? My club.”

  That’s when she noticed Pavel behind Fisnik and the rest of Harden’s men in the thinning crowd stalking five men. Two syndicate men for each Ukrainian on the premises. Harden knew this would happen, planned for it, and left her and her sister out as bait.

  Jentry rounded o
n him. “You bastard!” She put everything she had into slapping the taste out of his mouth. Her palm cracking against his cheek was louder than the music.

  Harden didn’t even flinch, not a muscle twitched, but his eyes, those icy blue orbs, blazed. Jentry didn’t give two shits. She drew back her hand to slap him again. Between blinks she was over his shoulder, again.

  “Bruno, show these men to the front exit. Make sure the paparazzi get their pictures, and make sure they get in their cars and leave, alive. Make sure everyone sees them upright and breathing as they drive away.”

  Bruno grunted and shoved Bresnik toward the exit. Hanging from his muscular shoulder, Jentry heard the dialogue, but the floor and Harden’s ass were all she could see. Bracing her hands on his back, she attempted to push off him and earned a hard swat. Seething, she flopped on his shoulder. He couldn’t carry her forever. The second he put her down…

  Every step he took seemed designed to compress her diaphragm. Inhaling a deep breath was impossible as he took the stairs two at a time, purposely jostling her.

  “Put me down!” She gasped and earned another smack to her ass. “Where is my sister!” Another smack. “You asshole!”

  Please, please, please let Jane be alright, she prayed. Facing her parents, her unforgiving mother, if something bad happened to Jane, Jentry couldn’t contemplate the fallout. They’d blame her and rightly so when she was responsible for Jane being at Denizen. Without Jentry placing Jane on the VIP guest list, Jane would be safe. Alive. Please, God, don’t do this!

  Harden stormed into the skybox and kicked the door closed behind him. Next thing, her back kissed the nearest wall and his hand to the center of her chest kept her pasted there. Panting in shallow bursts, she glared daggers at him. “If anything happened to her, I will kill you. I swear, I’ll find a way.” Tears burned her eyes, but she refused to shed a single drop.