The Missing Billionaire (The Tycoons #2)

by Marie Higgins

  Releasing an uncomfortable laugh, she tried giving Zack a sweet smile, although she was sure the others would think it looked pure evil. “Oh, Zack. Are you playing on Mr. and Mrs. Boatright’s sympathies? If you remember correctly, we both decided to hold off on getting married so that we can save money to have a nice wedding.” Zack opened his mouth to speak, so she hurried on. “Besides that, your father won’t be able to fly back into the country for at least another year. I think he’d want us to wait for him, don’t you?”

  She wasn’t sure just how much Mrs. Boatright could see of Zack’s expression, but his glare was razor sharp as he aimed it at Whitney.

  “Nah. Dad would have been fine with it because he just wants his son to be happy.”

  Whitney moved her focus to the other woman for a brief second. Since Whitney had been an FBI agent, it was easier for her to read people’s expressions, and the woman appeared very doubtful. In order to keep their identities hidden – at least Zack’s – Whitney needed to make sure the others believed their story.

  Mustering up a tender smile for Zack, she stroked his smooth cheek. “But darling,” she lowered her voice, hoping it sounded slightly seductive, “what about our jobs? Neither of us are making enough money for a wedding, let alone to start out a marriage.”

  The color in his brown eyes softened the longer he looked at her. “Money shouldn’t matter if two people are in love.”

  She couldn’t stop the romantic side of her from coming awake after all of these years. What happened to her theory of love stinks that she had tried cramming in her head for three years straight?

  Mrs. Boatright let out an audible sigh. “He’s right, Whitney. You can’t base a marriage on money. Only love.”

  “And trust,” Mr. Boatright said, giving a nod to his wife.

  She smiled and grasped her husband’s hand.

  Zack leaned closer to Whitney, staring deep into her eyes. “Come on, babe. You know you love me. You know you want to be my wife.” He shrugged. “We could always elope. It doesn’t matter to me, as long as we can be together, forever.”

  Why had she even started this conversation in the first place? Her heartbeat skipped abnormally for the first time since Steve had dumped her, forcing her to devote herself to her job. And why was it getting harder and harder to look away from Zack’s dreamy chocolate eyes that weakened her in the worst way?

  She swallowed, hoping to add moisture to her suddenly dry throat. “Oh, Zack. You know how much I love you. And yes, I do want to marry you. But if you love me, you’ll let me have the fairytale wedding I’ve always dreamed about. After all, I’m only going to get married once.”

  He sighed in defeat. “Well, because I love you so much...”

  She smiled fully, surprised how elated she felt even though they were just pretending. “You’re such a wonderful man.” She threw her arms around his neck and pressed her forehead against his.

  There was no way she wanted to kiss him in front of the Boatrights, but it seemed Zack had different plans. His head tilted as his mouth started heading right for hers. Panic gripped her chest and she couldn’t breathe

  “I think this is the address, isn’t it?” Mr. Boatright asked.

  Whitney jerked back, as did Zack. He leaned toward the window to look outside.

  “Yes, this is the address.”

  “This is a really nice neighborhood,” Mrs. Boatright said with a touch of awe in her voice. “Is this where you live?”

  “I wish I could afford to live here.” Zack chuckled. “This is my father’s house. He’s out of the country, but he lets me stay here when I’m in town.”

  He unfastened his seatbelt and opened the car door. “Mr. and Mrs. Boatright, it was a pleasure to get to know you. And thank you, once again, for being good Samaritans by giving us a ride.”

  Whitney climbed out and thanked the older couple before closing her door. Staying in character, she moved beside Zack and took hold of his hand, entwining their fingers. As the car drove away, Zack led the way up the steps and to the front door. He punched in a code beside the door before using his key and opening the front door.

  As soon as they were inside and the lights were on, she stepped away from him, breaking their contact. She took in the grandeur of the place and gasped in surprise. She’d never known anyone with a lot of money, and naturally, she’d never had the opportunity to be inside their home. Zack’s house was decorated in light peach and green, with contrasting splashes of brown. But it was the furnishings that nearly made her drool with envy. His taste seemed to lean more toward the turn-of-the-century. Never had she seen so many items that appeared new, but were styled for the early nineteen hundreds.

  “So, this is where you live, huh?” she asked, taking slow steps into the living room.

  “Not really. I bought this place for my mother, but she doesn’t like to stay here very often.”

  Whitney’s heart dropped. So, he doesn’t live here, only his mother? For a moment, Whitney had wanted him to be the one who enjoyed old-fashioned furniture.

  “Why not? This place is an interior designer’s dream-come-true.” Whitney wondered why his mother hadn’t wanted to live in a museum like this. Was she blind or something?

  “I’m glad you think so, but my mother thought the townhouse was too small and the neighborhood was too crowded. She’d rather live in Upstate New York.”

  Apparently, his mother was not blind, just a snob. Whitney nodded. “Well, I think this place is very beautiful.”

  Her gaze fell to one of the many paintings on the wall. Excitement rushed through her, and she gasped again, moving closer to the painting of a bridge over a small stream covered with flowers floating in the water.

  “Oh, my...” She stopped in front of the painting, not believing her own eyes. She stretched out her hand to touch it, but withdrew before it reached its mark. “Is this a... Claude Monet?”

  When Zack stepped beside her, she didn’t turn to look at him. She couldn’t. The painting was too mesmerizing.

  “Yeah. You like Monet?”

  “I love his work.” She grudgingly tore her focus on that painting and moved to another one. This particular painting was of a Victorian man and woman walking amongst some trees and shrugs. “No!” she gasped. “This can’t be...”

  She snapped her gaze to Zack who stood looking at her with a silly grin.

  “What?” he asked innocently.

  “Is this a Pierre-Auguste Renoir painting?”

  His grin widened as he nodded. “You certainly know your painters.”

  She glanced back at the painting. “I adore his work.”

  “Yeah, he’s one of my favorites, too.”

  “I could look at these paintings for hours.”

  He shrugged. “Feel free. I’m going upstairs to shower and change my clothes. This dried blood on my skin is itching like crazy.”

  She tore her attention away from the paintings to look at him, again. “Do you live here, too?”

  “No, but I have a room here... with clothes.”

  “Oh. Well, when you shower, if you get your bandage wet—”

  “Yes, I know. There’s gauze and tape in the hall closet. We’ll bandage up my arm when I’m done showering, I promise.” He motioned his hand toward the kitchen. “Also, feel free to look through the kitchen if you get hungry.”

  He turned and headed up the stairs. She couldn’t tear away from staring at the way his jeans practically clung to his thighs and waist.

  Grumbling under her breath, she moved toward the kitchen. Maybe she was the one who needed a shower... a very cold one. The man confused her. Her emotions jumped all over the place when he was around. She just needed to figure him out so she knew how to act around him. That was the only way either of them could survive.

  The grumbling of her stomach reminded her that there was something more important than staring dreamily at paintings by famous artists – or at a certain man’s butt.

  The kitchen was va
stly different from the front part of the house because every appliance was extremely state-of-the-art. The first place she went was to the refrigerator. Just as she pulled the door open, her cell phone buzzed. She jumped from the sudden sound and quickly grabbed it. When she read the name on caller ID, her heart sank in dread.

  What excuse could she give Captain Bott for her mess-up this time?

  “Agent Lawson,” she answered, hoping to sound confident.

  “Agent?” His loud voice boomed from the other end. “You’re using that title loosely, aren’t you?”

  Her nerves were already frazzled, but it seemed as though he was going to make it worse. “I um... I don’t know what you mean, Captain.”

  “Lawson, I just finished watching your video.”

  Grimacing, she rubbed her forehead. “What video, sir? I didn’t make a vid—”

  “No, you didn’t make it, but someone at the airport did and they’re spreading it around social media.” He cussed. “What do you think you were doing bringing attention to Zack Greyson when he’s supposed to be in hiding?”

  “Well, sir, you see...” She took a steady breath, trying to find the courage she had somehow lost. “As I was following him today, he led me to the airport. He was headed to Hawaii, and I knew I had to stop him.”

  “By making a scene and pretending you were in love?” He released a disappointed groan. “Lawson, I think you should have figured out a different way to stop him.”

  She rolled her eyes. “It’s a little too late, now,” she defended her poor decision. “And I was desperate. I knew he wouldn’t come with me by flashing him my FBI badge.”

  He sighed. “You’re correct, Lawson, it’s too late to change it.” There was a short pause. “I hope you’re planning on fixing this.”

  Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to cry. “Yes, sir.”

  “Because I can guarantee you one thing,” he snapped. “If the senator’s hitman finds Zack Greyson, he won’t be the only one in danger.”

  “I’m well aware of that, Captain Bott.”

  “Fix this, Lawson. This is a warning. Your job is in jeopardy.”

  “Yes, I know,” she whispered before her voice broke.

  He ended the call without saying good-bye, which was all right with her. She would have probably started crying.

  Inhaling deeply, she paced the kitchen. No longer was she hungry. Instead, she was determined. She’d show the captain – along with Mr. Dreamy-Eyes – that she was a good agent, and she could do her job without messing up.

  As she paced the floor, her mind spun with ideas, but she crossed every one of them off her list. She had to be more creative. She needed to hide Zack where nobody would find him.

  Immediately, her stepfather’s face popped into her head. He’d divorced her mother when Whitney was ten-years-old, but he’d been the only father she’d ever known. Thankfully, Joe Robbins treated her like the daughter he’d always wanted. And...

  Whitney grinned. Joe owned a horse ranch in Maine away from civilization. The ranch would be the perfect place for Whitney to hide Zack. Not only that, but being on a ranch would force Zack to be a regular guy instead of a dreamy billionaire.

  Things were looking better and better already.

  FOUR

  Zack studied the wound in his arm in the mirror. Carefully, he stretched his arm, but the pain increased. The bleeding had started up again, but thankfully, it wasn’t as bad. He’d forgotten how much getting shot hurts. But this wound would heal just like the last one had. If only people would stop shooting at him.

  He groaned and turned away from the mirror as he finished drying himself off. The shower was refreshing, and he’d love to lie down and take a nap, but there were too many things in his life that needed to be straightened out. The most important being the woman downstairs who had his mind whirling in confusion.

  Whitney really wasn’t that pretty... well, maybe she was in a way. Her hazel eyes changed colors depending on her moods. He really liked to see her riled, though. Zack grinned. Her eyes nearly shot out flames of fire.

  However, the way she dressed had him puzzled. He shook his head. She was not trying to be feminine at all. She wore a tan buttoned shirt that looked to be a size bigger with a dark blue suit jacket that practically drowned her. Oh, and her baggy slacks were something he hadn’t seen women wear for a while. He groaned. How old was she? The clothes she wore could be in fashion for a sixty-year-old woman. And her ugly shoes... He just hoped they were comfortable.

  Were all female FBI agents that unfashionable?

  But it had surprised him to see her take such interest in the furnishings of the townhouse, especially the paintings. He’d never dated a woman who knew any historical famous painters. Most of them thought the Mona Lisa was the wife of one of the older US presidents. Being a fan of expensive paintings, that was something he missed talking about with a woman.

  He had to admit, though, Whitney was rather sweet when she wanted to be. Even though they were playacting in the car earlier, he knew that if and when she finally gave her heart to a man, she’d give it earnestly. That man would be lucky to have Whitney’s full devotion – as long as he could put up with her stubbornness.

  It would be hard for Zack to trust her with his life, especially since she hadn’t shown him yet that she was really trying to protect him. She hadn’t seemed focused, either, and that bothered him. The only time she appeared to be focused was when... His grin stretched wider. Was when she was staring into his eyes as if she’d been lost in a dream.

  He pulled on a pair of jeans, grabbed his shirt along with the first aid kit, and headed downstairs. The mild scent of chicken wafted through the air, awakening his hunger. He’d been too worried about his injury and the hitman to think about eating. But now he was starving.

  When he walked into the kitchen, Whitney stood by the stove, stirring a spoon around in a pan. Sitting on the counter were two cans of chicken noodle soup. He bit back a laugh. He’d bet good money that she didn’t know how to make a home-cooked meal.

  “Smells good,” he said.

  She jumped and spun around with the spoon still in her hand. Immediately, her gaze fell to his bare chest. Within seconds, her surprised expression softened, and her lips even parted. Once again, he held in a laugh. He’d also bet good money she wasn’t used to seeing a guy without his shirt.

  He held up the bandages. “Will you wrap my arm again?”

  She blinked her eyes as her stare moved off his chest and up to meet his gaze. She smiled.

  “Yes, of course. Sit down.” She pointed to one of the kitchen chairs.

  Her hands were gentle as she placed the ointment on his skin. She took great care while rubbing it around his wound before placing the bandage over it. As she wrapped the gauze around his arm, her hands shook slightly. He’d been watching her face, but she hadn’t glanced at him once. Something wasn’t right, and he wished she’d open up and talk to him.

  “I’m glad the bullet went straight through,” he said.

  “Yes, so am I, or we’d be at the hospital right now.”

  She still refused to meet his gaze. Why?

  “Thanks for making some soup,” he continued. “I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until I smelled it cooking.”

  “I figured you’d be hungry, too. Since we are on the run, I didn’t want to make a complicated lunch.”

  She had finished bandaging his arm and turned away. He quickly grasped her arm, which made her finally look at him.

  “Why can’t we stay here?” he asked. “Nobody knows I live here since the townhouse is under my mother’s name.”

  “I don’t want to give the senator’s hitman a chance to find you. After all, they somehow located you at the airport.” She arched an eyebrow.

  “True, but I think it’s because I used one of my credit cards to pay for the flight.” Zack noticed her attention couldn’t stay on his eyes. Her gaze kept dipping to his bare chest. Now he knew why she didn’
t want to meet his gaze before.

  “No, Zack. You can’t use any credit cards from here on out. In fact, I won’t be able to use mine, either.”

  “Why?”

  “Because now they know you’re with me. I’m probably in as much danger as you are.”

  He groaned in silence. “Are you kidding me?”

  Her expression hardened – a look he was already used to seeing on her. He didn’t want to be chained to her every day until the trial.

  “Yeah, I’m kidding...” She rolled her eyes. “Because I would joke over something this important.”

  Grumbling, he paced the floor as his mind tried to come up with a way to get her out of his life. Perhaps he could offer to donate money to the FBI to make them take her back. That had worked with other agencies before. Maybe it wouldn’t work because they were the government.

  “Let’s eat.”

  Whitney’s voice brought him out of his thoughts. She had set the table with bowls, spoons, and the pot of soup.

  They both sat down at the same time. He watched Whitney scoop the soup into her bowl before she moved the pan toward him. A touch of sadness flickered in her eyes, and for a brief moment, his gut twisted. Was she just as upset to be stuck with him as he was with her? That would definitely explain why she’d been so irritable since they met.

  As he ate his soup, he watched her carefully. Her gaze didn’t leave her bowl. Maybe it was an ego thing, but he wasn’t used to being with a woman without her looking at him with stars in her eyes. Not that he wanted Whitney to look at him that way, but still... It was nice to be noticed.

  As he took another spoonful, some of the soup spilled on his chest. It was hard to eat using his injured arm, but he definitely couldn’t eat using his left hand. Grumbling, he used the linen handkerchief she had placed on the table, to dab the spill from his chest. After taking a few more bites, the liquid spilled on his chest, again. Once more, he lifted the napkin to dry his skin.

  “For the love of...” She huffed and pushed away from the table. The shirt he’d brought down was still draped over the edge of the counter. She yanked it off before throwing it at him. The garment smacked him right in the face.