Fake Fiancé: A Fake Marriage Romance (Fire & Ice Romance Series Book 7)

by Kylie Parker

  Now, I’d like to give you my opinion on something that has been bothering me for a long time. We’ve already discussed it a few times; I know your views on the matter and frankly? You couldn’t be more wrong.

  You are an incredible scientist, my dear Josephine. You’re the brightest student I’ve ever had. But, you’re human. And humans have needs. You shouldn’t be working so hard. You need to get out of the lab from time to time. Meet people. You know how much I love my job, but I cannot even imagine my life without my Jason.

  I need to go now. I can hardly keep my eyes open. Please, follow my advice. You will see that having a social life can be very rewarding…”

  “Poor Paul…” Josephine whispered, as two tears streamed down her cheeks. Tim pulled her closer for a side hug, caressing her shoulder. Riddled with guilt, he tried to comfort her, as she put her head on his shoulder.

  “I feel like a total jerk.” Tim confessed in a voice now a soft, breathless whisper. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s ok.” She assured him, wiping the tears off her face. “You had to know. I still can’t think of anyone who would want him dead.”

  “Me neither.” Tim said, reaching out to grab her laptop. He picked it up and eased it down on the table in front of them.

  “Can I ask you a favor?” Josephine whispered, as he leaned his back against the couch.

  “Sure.”

  “Hold me.” She added, sliding her hand up his stomach. “I feel so safe in your arms.”

  “Come here.” He muttered, squeezing her shoulder. She swung her right leg over him, sitting on his lap and snuggling close, as he fastened his arms around her waist. Tim closed his eyes, savoring the sensation of her warm body in his embrace. Neither of them spoke. He smiled to himself, feeling her breath on his neck, enjoying the closeness. Only seconds into their romantic moment, he could hear her breath. A sense of protectiveness of her overflowed from his heart and burst through his ribcage. The sensations sent him into uncharted realms of bliss; Tim was falling in love with a real woman, someone worth fighting for.

  I’m sorry I ever doubted you, baby. But where I come from, people are not as honest as you. I’m just glad I kept my cool. God, Joey… You took this so well. Thank you. Thank you so much. You’re true, darling. You’re the best thing that’s ever come into my crazy life…

  Chapter 21

  The next morning, Tim woke up feeling on top the world. Josephine’s innocence had given him a reason to smile and, more importantly, they had not argued at all. On the contrary, the new couple was happy.

  They spent the day walking around in Manhattan, having so much fun that he completely forgot about everything else. He no longer worried about discovering the person behind Jitter’s murder and the burglary that he was about to commit. But Jon’s phone call in the early afternoon acted like a call to reality. He wanted to see him; due to his outburst the night before, they had not finished discussing their plan to break into Chester Bradford’s house. According to him, they still had a lot of details to go over.

  Midnight found Tim in the same apartment building in Queens, but, this time, his friend’s door was open. He was standing a few feet behind the door frame. As soon as their gazes met, he put his hands together.

  “Bra-vo,” he gave four sarcastic slaps. “Let’s have a round of applause for Mr. Shaw, ladies and gentlemen. He almost beat to death a tiny little man last night.”

  “Good to see you too, Jonny.” Tim said with a faint smile, stepping into his friend’s apartment. “And I didn’t beat him to death. I just punched him a couple of times.”

  “Dude, have you seen the size of your hands?” Jon inquired, his voice dripping with sarcasm as his friend closed the door behind him. “They’re as big as tennis rackets!”

  “I had to know about his client.” Tim declared. “Can we stop talking about that? I thought we had a job to do.”

  “Yeah, follow me.” Jon urged, turning his body to the left. “By the way, I have some pictures from inside the house.”

  “How did you do that?” Tim got curious.

  “I was there a couple of weeks ago.” Jon said, sauntering towards his kitchen. “I posed as a cable repairman. That’s how I learned that he’d be away until Wednesday. He told me.”

  “Damn…” Tim whispered, standing over the kitchen table, looking down at the blueprint of the expensive mansion. “How many rooms does that house have?”

  “First of all, it’s on Actors Colony Road. It’s got fourteen rooms.” Jon said with a mischievous smile on his face. “Let’s hope you don’t have to visit them all.”

  “Why do you say that?” Tim asked, turning to him.

  “You don’t have enough time.” Jon’s smile was wiped off his face. “First of all, we’re doing this tomorrow night. I’ll come pick you up at midnight. There’s a power gate outside; you’ll have to climb and jump over it. The house is rigged with sensors. I can deactivate them, but there’s a backup system. It takes a while for it to kick in, though. You have two minutes to get in, blow the safe and get your ass out of there. This is the main entrance.” He went on, pointing at the lower right corner of the blueprint. “It’s too exposed; we can’t use that. What we need…” He paused and then pointed at the upper right corner “... Is the back door. It’s more than thirty yards away from the road and it’s dark. It’s ideal.”

  “What about the neighbors?” Tim had one more question.

  “The closest house is fifty yards away. The bedroom balcony overlooks Bradford’s rear garden. You’ll have to be careful. I doubt the neighbors will be out on the balcony in the middle of February, though.”

  “Alright,” Tim said with a sigh. “How do I get in?”

  “The back door is made of glass.” Jon informed. “You’ve used laser glass cutters before, right?”

  “Yeah,” Tim nodded. “So then what?”

  “The safe is in his bedroom, right above his bed.” Jon attempted a steady tone. “That’s what worries me.”

  “Why?”

  “Rich people are weird, big Tim.” A long sigh escaped him, as he scratched his chin with his index finger. “Who knows; maybe he keeps documents there and keeps the money somewhere else.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, man.” Tim grumbled. “What about security outside?”

  “There’s just one van patrolling the area. Rich folks don’t pay much for security these days.” Jon remarked. “We’ll wait for it to leave the neighborhood; then, we’re going to make our move.”

  “Ok, last question.” Tim raised his tone, slightly. “How fast can cops get there?”

  “The police station’s on the other side of town.” Jon’s smile reappeared. “It’s going to take them at least ten minutes to drive there. We’ll be long gone by then.”

  “Good job.” Tim gave a satisfied nod.

  “I’m a pro, dude.” Jon laughed. “I just can’t be in two places at the same time.”

  “We’re really going to have to haul ass, if we want to avoid getting caught.” Tim said with a hint of skepticism in his voice. “How are we getting there?”

  “I like your Impala.” Jon winked at him. “But my Chevy is just as quick. It’s got an 8-litre V10.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Tim concluded.

  “It’s a great plan.” Jon corrected him. “See? It didn’t take that long. You could have stayed here last night, instead of storming out like that. You wouldn’t have to drive here all the way from Manhattan again.”

  “Trust me.” Tim said with a sigh. “I couldn’t.”

  “Well, one thing’s for certain.” Jon used a raised index finger. “You scared the shit out of Kirkland. He was shaking after you left.”

  “Who would want to take out a sixty-year old professor, Jonny?” Tim spoke with actual frustration in his voice. “Who would pay someone fifty grand to kill him?”

  “Fifty?” Jon’s gruff voice turned into a high-pitched shriek . “Kirkland got paid two hundred thousand to take out an Arab
oil tycoon last year. Look, I don’t know who paid him to kill that professor, but whoever it was, she wasn’t rich.”

  “I’m done speculating, but thanks for the tip, man.” Tim gave him an appraising look, high-fiving him.

  “No problem.” Jon winked at him once more. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

  Chapter 22

  Tim barely slept that night. He even repelled Josephine’s advances and did not share his concerns with her. His conversation with Jon replayed numerous times in his mind. He was stressed about the burglary, but, unfortunately for him, he also had other things to worry about. Should he succeed, the loot from Bradford’s house would most likely be enough for him to buy her the necessary equipment, but, even so, he still had no idea about the person who had hired Kirkland. The only female scientist on her staff, Dr. Silver, was blonde and stood at an impressive 5’11”. As time went by, Tim believed less and less that Laura was responsible; she simply did not fit the profile. In his overwhelming confusion, it occurred to him that he still had not met her father. Burt Maddox was the only man who had a motive and a possible confrontation could provide him some answers. Nevertheless, he would not attempt such a thing, less than 24 hours before the burglary. He had to focus on the job; meeting with Maddox could only distract him.

  As promised, Jon picked him up at midnight. Tim had had to cope with an emotional Josephine; she could not hide her concern and kept hugging him, long before Jon even arrived. He tried to convince her that everything would go well, but he failed quite miserably. His girlfriend was way too upset to believe him.

  Ninety minutes later, Jon turned his massive Chevrolet pickup truck right, entering a grove, more than fifty yards away from the entrance of Actors Colony Road. As soon as it was brought to halt, he turned off the lights and lay back in his seat. Much to his surprise, Tim pulled a black uniform out of his backpack and started taking his clothes off.

  “Dude, a uniform?” He wondered, turning his head to the right to face him. “Really?”

  “The rain just stopped.” Tim muttered, removing his shoes. “It’s going to be muddy as hell out there. I’ll to have to crawl through a hole and run on the mud. I’ve brought an extra pair of shoes, too. I’ll get rid of everything as soon as we’re done. Imagine being pulled over by the cops. What’s a pair of muddy jeans going to look like?”

  “Smart thinking,” Jon remarked. “What are you going to do with the money?”

  “I haven’t thought about it yet.” Tim replied, putting his black, ski mask on. “What about you?”

  “Jamaica, baby!” He cheered. “I want to buy a house there.”

  “Just hack the damn thing.” Tim urged. “I’ll do the rest.”

  “Yes, sir,” Jon saluted him. Just when he finished his sentence, the two men noticed headlights in a distance. They belonged to a red van, with a large, ancient helmet mural on the side and a big, bright sign on the roof, in black letters:

  “Spartan Security”

  “Showtime…” Jon murmured, starting the massive engine of his truck. He then put it in reverse and backed out of the grove, before turning left. All four tires picked up mud and gravel from the road, as he put his foot hard down on the gas pedal. He climbed the uphill road and then turned right, into Actors Colony Road. Tim had never felt so stressed about a burglary. His heart was beating so loudly that he could hear it, as they passed by one luxurious mansion after another. Predictably, the expensive, suburban neighborhood was empty and quiet. Bradford’s house was located at the end of it and to the right. It was by far the largest and most extravagant in the neighborhood, featuring a huge, grey, iron fence gate. Jon eased up on the brakes, allowing his truck to roll slowly down the road.

  “Alright,” Jon started. “Get over there and wait. I’ll tell you when I’ve disabled those sensors. Bradford’s bedroom’s on the first floor, second door on the right. Remember: You got two minutes, before all hell breaks loose. Good luck.”

  Tim merely nodded to his friend, before opening the passenger door. Crouching low, he ran towards the gate, with a large sports bag in his hand. He put his hands on the 4ft-tall, stone column, jumped over it and into the garden. The mud sank beneath his feet. He cast a furtive glance right; the lights were out in the house closest to Bradford’s. Bringing his gaze forward, he raced along the wide garden. Upon reaching the rear garden, he slowed down and stopped. He threw another glance right; fortunately, the neighboring house was completely dark.

  Turning around, he faced the glass, back door. Then, Tim sat on his knees, throwing the sports bag onto the ground in front of him. Anxiously waiting to hear Jon’s voice in the intercom, he unzipped it and pulled out a black, pistol-like, laser glass cutter. For the first time ever, his fingers trembled as he raised it at shoulder height. He shut his eyes and took a deep, cleansing breath. Josephine’s smiling face flashed through his mind.

  “I want to make you smile again.” He thought to himself, as his eyes snapped open. In a split second, his grip around the glass cutter handle grew immensely tighter.

  “All set.” Jon’s signal sent his adrenaline into the ozone layer. Tim pointed the device at the door and pressed the button. A tiny puff of smoke went up in the air, as the red beam made contact with the glass. Slowly and steadily, it began to cut out a glass circle, from left to right. He held out his left hand, as the cutter reached the top. The large chunk of glass fell outward and into his palm. Tim put the device back in his sports bag and used both hands to ease the piece of glass down onto the ground. He put his hand into his sports bag and pulled out his flashlight, before tossing it through the hole.

  “One minute and thirty seconds.” Jon spoke through the intercom, as he crawled through the hole. Using his left hand, Tim once more grabbed the sports bag and jumped up. He turned on the flashlight and pointed it across from him. There was a staircase, more than fifty feet away from him. He sprinted across the massive living room, the sound of his heavy footsteps echoing back at the walls. Climbing the stairs, he pointed the flashlight right. The door to Bradford’s bedroom came into view, just when he reached the top landing. It lay at least thirty feet down the hall. Tim rushed towards it, a drop of sweat dripping down his brow. Stopping before the door, he threw the sports bag onto the floor and pointed the flashlight down at the doorknob, on the left side of the door. Much to his disappointment though, the door was locked.

  “Fuck!” He cried, his stentorian voice bouncing off the walls.

  “One minute.” Jon said, adding to his immense frustration. Tim raised his right leg and kicked at it. His first attempt failed. One more, even more violent kick sent the door more than ten feet across the bedroom. He picked up the sports bag and entered. Noticing Bradford’s bed, he went to the left. He pulled a small explosive charge and a detonator out of the bag and planted it on the door of the safe, just below the lock. Finally, he crouched low, covering his ears and pressed the button. The powerful blast rocked the bedroom. Hundreds of chunks of concrete and metal were ejected across it. His ears started buzzing, as he waved the smoke away.

  “Thirty seconds. Hurry up!” Jon’s spoke once more, as the smoke cleared. An unbelievable sight met Tim’s eyes. Numerous stacks of green bills were piled on top of one another. Without wasting any time, he brought the bag in front of him and reached out his right arm. Tim started throwing large stacks into it, feeling his heart ready to explode. The fact that he still held the flashlight did not help him, but he didn’t have much choice. Second by second, his sports bag became heavier.

  “Fifteen seconds. Get your ass out of there!” Jon’s last sentence forced him to stop. He turned his body left and jumped out of bed, holding the bag tightly in his hand. It was so heavy that he could barely lift it. Tim turned left and sprinted along the hall, as fast as he could. He was so stressed that he began to jump over the steps.

  “Ten, nine, eight…” Jon’s countdown began, as soon as he landed on the living room. He made a dash towards the back door, fixing his gaze on t
he hole. His friend’s voice quivered, as the he counted down the last few seconds.

  “Five, four, three…” Tim tossed the bag through the hole, before lunging through it. He landed flat and hard on his chest, just next to the sports bag, banging his head against his left forearm. His hands sank into the muddy soil, before he rolled over onto his back, gasping for breath. Before he could address Jon though, his ears were filled with the loud, piercing sound of the alarm. Picking up the sports bag, he jumped up.

  “Jon, what the hell?” He spoke through the intercom, his voice riddled with tension. “Why did the goddamn alarm go off?”

  “You must have destroyed the touch sensor on that door.” Jon his voice filled with panic, yelled, “Where are you?”

  “I’m on my way.” Tim replied, hurtling towards the gate. As he approached it, he realized that Jon’s truck was facing in the direction that they had come from. Tim quickly zipped the bag and tossed it over the gate. It landed on the sidewalk as he put his hands on the stone wall. Tim jumped over it and grabbed the bag. He moved around Jon’s truck and threw it inside, before opening the passenger door. Tim got in, but Jon didn’t give him enough time to close the door. Instead, he slammed his foot hard down on the gas pedal. The massive engine roared as Jon drove off, with both men casting frightened, furtive glances around them. The two friends had been lucky. Everything had happened very quickly and the alarm had not awakened any of Bradford’s neighbors. The house closest to his was still dark and the same could be said about the one across from it.

  “Man, what the hell happened out there?!” Tim protested, pulling and closing the passenger door.

  “The backup system kicked in and tried to get a signal from a touch sensor. It didn’t.” Jon explained, as his truck sped up the road. “How did it go?”