Scarred Empire: An Enemies to Lovers Dark Billionaire Romance (Broken Cross Book 2)

by Bri Blackwood

  “Well, you’ve had a busy few days. I still can’t wrap my head around this. Damien Cross concocted a scheme that involved appearing to be engaged. Mr. Forever Bachelor has no problem appearing as if he’s coupled up. What gives?”

  “That’s the question of the hour.” I could have filled in the blank about his obsession with me being his, but I refrained. “I assume he gets something out of having me on his arm.”

  “Of course he does! I could go into detail about how wonderful you are.”

  I chuckled, but it did little to change my mood. It was time for me to act. “Ellie, I just remembered something I have to do. I’ll text you later?”

  “Sounds good. I’ll talk to you then.”

  I ended the video call and jumped up. I marched over to Damien’s office and opened the door without thinking about it. There was a chance that I wouldn’t find what I was looking for, but it was worth the shot. I was tired of waiting for the police, Damien, or Kingston’s company to find a lead. I was going to find it myself.

  I flicked on the light switch and walked over to his desk. I hoped to find something that might be a report or a file from Dave, but their correspondence might be all digital or he might keep the paperwork at his office.

  No. He would want to keep the information close. But where would it be? I held my breath as I searched the file cabinet to the left of his black wooden desk but found nothing.

  A sudden noise made me freeze in place. I listened for a moment. The only thing I could hear was my heart pounding in my chest at the prospect of getting caught searching through Damien’s things. My heart rate slowly returned to normal when I realized I was still alone, and I quickened my pace. When I began the search through his desk drawers, the first thing I found was a solid black box. I lifted it up, briefly examining it and determined it was a safe of some sort. It didn’t look big enough to contain any files and needed a fingerprint in order to open, so I placed it back where I found it and kept searching. When I reached the last drawer, I found a bunch of manila folders stacked neatly inside. Is this it?

  I picked up one file and flipped it open. A quick scan of the documents in it confirmed I found what I was looking for. This must have been the intelligence that Dave found for Damien. The folder contained data on Jon Moretti, the man I met at dinner with Damien. The detailed report gave information from his physical stats, his mafia ties, to places he frequented, to the last person he slept with. Had Damien dug up information on him because of their business dealings or because of his disregard for my profession? Shifting the folder out of the way, I opened the next one and gasped.

  It was a file that contained a report on my father. I read through the information that was all too familiar, but there were some surprises there too. “Dad got arrested in college? Didn’t know that…” I mumbled as my brain processed the information in front of me.

  The folder also contained a brief overview on my mother, but it was clear that he didn’t consider her to be as high of a priority on his list.

  My eyes widened slightly when they came across something I should have been expecting but couldn’t have prepared myself for. Damien had gathered information on me as well. Most of it was the basics, which made me a little queasy. But what startled me were the photos that were included in the folder. I had vague memories of when they were taken based on what I was wearing and the background of the photos, including one that had been taken in the early fall. It looked like Dave had trailed me for a while. My thoughts flew back to the person who Ellie and I thought we saw taking our photo. Did all roads lead back to Damien?

  I flipped through the pages again and found a document detailing my father’s shooting. Reading the words forced me to relive the horrors of that night. Even though I tried to fight it, the thought that Damien could have done this seeped into my mind again. But why would he step in and provide care for my father and protect me and my family? To swoop in and be the hero?

  No, that wasn’t possible. Damien was anything but a hero and thrived on exuding power. But I wondered if the address that was highlighted in yellow on the sheet with a big question mark to the right of it might provide the answer that I was looking for. I was positive it was the bar near my apartment and that would put it close to the building where I saw the person trying to take photos of me through my window.

  17

  Damien

  I stepped into my black Audi R8 and felt the horsepower under my fingertips when I started the car. Before I could drive off, my phone rang.

  “What do you have for me, Kingston?”

  “You have time to head over to one of the safe houses?”

  “Is it important?” My mind drifted back to Anais and how I wanted to get back to her quickly.

  “It’s about the Monroe case.”

  “You should have started the conversation with that. Send me the address and I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

  “What’s going on?” I asked as Kingston and I entered the house and stood in the entryway. The inside was reminiscent of the home Anais was taken to after James was shot. The lack of material possessions made it clear that no one lived here full time. “Is Carter watching over the penthouse?”

  “Yes. Said he would alert if anything happened.”

  I nodded. “On the way over here, I got an update from a contact affiliated with the NYPD. They still don’t have much other than chasing down some leads that have gone cold. Interviews at the scene of the crime haven’t helped much either. What did you find?”

  “Anais told me about the erratic behavior of a client, and I looked into him. Edward loves talking to Anais directly, but nothing I found made me think that he’s involved. Also, none of James’s associates."

  “Is there any good news?”

  “Yes. I tracked down the person responsible for the blog post connecting James’s shooting to his money troubles. He’s sitting in a room down the hall. I wanted to wait for you before we began.”

  I knew exactly what he meant by “began”. I gestured to the door down the hall and stalked toward it, not waiting to see if Kingston was following behind me. It was about time we got some answers.

  Without thinking about it for a second, I opened the door with a resounding bang. The man that was sitting at the only table in the room jumped. One of Kingston’s men who was watching over the suspect hadn’t bothered to tie him up. I wouldn’t have pegged him as someone who had any chance of escaping anyway.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Gary.”

  “Gary, what do you know about James Monroe?”

  “I—I uh don’t know anyone by that name.” He licked his lips nervously, before looking at every person in the room. Was he weighing his options or worried about who would strike him first?

  I saw something flash out of the corner of my eye. Kingston was at my side and he handed me his phone. A quick glance at the screen told me he had pulled up the blog post on his phone. I placed the phone on the table in front of the man, making sure not to take out my anger on the device. “Do you own this blog?”

  “Uh, yes. Yes, I do.” His voice was more shaky than before.

  “Then tell me why you made this post.” I pointed at the phone.

  “Look, I don’t want any trouble.”

  I slammed my fist into the table, making him jump again. “The more you stall, the more trouble you’ll be in. And I don’t think you want my kind of trouble. Why did you make this post?”

  The man in front of me didn’t respond.

  “Kingston, do you have a gun? Cause I’m about to put a bullet in this fucker’s leg. Maybe that would encourage him to talk.”

  Control was long gone. I saw how devastated Anais was after her father was shot. That image would forever burn in my memory. James and I didn’t have a great relationship, but I knew we both wanted to give Anais what she wanted. In this case, I knew it was getting justice for her father. I was fixing this.

  “Okay! Okay! I said I didn’t want an
y trouble.” He took a deep breath and said, “I received a tip that it was a developing story, okay? Anonymous source, I couldn’t find any information on the email address, but I thought it could be my big break if this person was right. So, I wrote a blog post and tried to make it go viral. It would be hard because James Monroe isn’t a huge celebrity, but I knew that him and his company were well known in certain circles so that it might be picked up by someone bigger than me and I would get credit for it.”

  Although rage flowed through my veins, I knew inflicting pain on him would lead to a bloody mess that someone had to clean up. No, that energy would be better served for someone who deserved to meet their end.

  “Tell us the email address, show us the email, and you can be on your way.”

  “That’s it?” Kingston asked.

  “That’s it. He doesn’t know anything else and won’t be posting anything else about this. But if this person emails him another tip, I’m sure he’ll be in touch. Right?” I raised an eyebrow at Gary.

  “R—Right. Of course, I will! Anything for you guys.”

  Kingston and I left Gary and one of Kingston’s men in the makeshift interrogation room. “You took it easy back there. The Damien I know would have shot first and asked questions later.”

  “I’m just ready to get home.”

  “I understand that. I did a quick search on the email address Gary gave us. He’s right nothing popped, but I didn’t expect it to.”

  “Makes sense due to the wide array of numbers and letters that were in the address.”

  “If I find out anything else, I’ll let you know.”

  “Good.”

  I walked out of the house and sat down in my car, once again ready to head back to the penthouse. That was until I received a text that appeared on my dashboard.

  Unknown Number: You should do a better job of protecting what’s yours. Would hate for you to lose it...again.

  18

  Anais

  It didn’t take much effort for me to throw on a pair of sneakers, a hoodie, a baseball cap, and a coat before I looked through the peephole. I knew that Kingston or Carter would sometimes stand guard outside my door, but I’m sure they relied on only authorized people being allowed to the penthouse. What they weren’t counting on, was me leaving the building.

  I opened the door a crack and found that the coast was clear. I hoped that if there were any hidden cameras in the hallway, no one was watching them. As I got on the elevator I immediately clicked the softly glowing “G” before the elevator started its descent. I felt as if I was holding my breath, waiting to get caught at any minute and dragged back up to the ivory tower that had become my home.

  With a shaky hand, I slid my phone into my coat pocket and watched the numbers continue to go down. I hoped that no one else would call for the elevator, delaying my reaching the garage level. When the doors opened, I didn’t stop to think as I quickly made my way through the garage and up the ramp toward the street level. I had guessed that Kingston and his men weren’t guarding the garage door because the only way you could get up to the penthouse from the garage level was if you had a special badge. I was right.

  Once I hit the street, I waved down a taxi and rattled off my home address. I lowered my hat and sank lower in my seat as we zoomed away from the building that had become almost like a prison to me. I knew it was a privilege to say that, but it didn’t change how I felt about the situation. When I knew for sure that I had made it away from Damien’s home undetected, I double-checked that I had silenced my phone before putting it back in my coat.

  The ride to my apartment was mostly silent, only the soft melodies from the taxi driver’s radio guiding us along. When we hit the block where I was shoulder-checked, I let out a quivering breath. I might be onto something in the quest to find out more about who shot my father and why he was a target.

  “Right here is good,” I said, alerting the driver so that he knew to pull over. Once I drew out the money I had stuffed into another pocket in a hurry, paid the driver and exited the vehicle, I put my hands in my pockets and hurried down the street. I looked at my building, almost longing to go up there. It had been days since I’d been there, and the urge to hide away in my apartment was real. After all, it had been my safe haven for many years and once again, that had been taken from me.

  I turned my head to look across the street and found the place where Ellie and I saw what looked to be a man with a camera aimed straight for our window. Thankfully, it was a quiet night, and no one was trying to stalk my place from what I could see. Did it make sense to go check that building out first? No, I wanted to follow Dave’s lead; my eyes and thoughts were zeroed in on the bar that was just a few feet away. Why had Dave found this bar to be significant?

  Hidden Tavern was a bar that I had been to a few times over the years to blow off some steam after a long day at the office. Its rustic aesthetic was nothing to write home about and would be considered a “hole in the wall” to most people, but the drinks were cheaper than a lot of places and the atmosphere was more relaxed. As I approached the front door, it swung open and a couple of young twenty-somethings left the establishment, one holding the door open for me as I entered.

  I found a seat in the corner of the bar. I brought my hat down even lower, because I was worried someone might recognize me, but knew the chances of that were slim. What had Dave been watching here that made him highlight the address?

  I scanned the scene and didn’t note anyone who looked suspicious in the establishment, but that didn’t mean the person or thing I was looking for wasn’t there. I tried to look as natural as possible, while not drawing attention to myself as I people-watched. Ever so often, I would glance up at the television, as time shuffled by.

  “Ma’am?”

  I looked up and found a woman in jeans and a black T-shirt with Hidden Tavern written across the heart.

  “Yes?”

  “This glass of Merlot is for you along with this note.”

  “But I didn’t order—” My words trailed off as I read the letter.

  Nice to see you on the outside again. You didn’t heed my warning to watch yourself.

  It was unsigned.

  “Who ordered this?”

  “The only thing I noticed about him was that he was tall. Didn’t get a good look at his face because he was wearing a cap, similar to yours. Oh, wait. His voice was peculiar. Almost like his vocal cords were damaged. He left right after he paid for your order.”

  That was all I needed for me to know that it was the man who shoulder-checked me weeks ago on my way home from work. I grabbed the note and jumped out of my seat, before running toward the front door. I swung it open and looked both ways down the street. How did I keep missing this man? Chances were, he hopped into a waiting car and sped off into the night. I mentally kicked myself for not staying completely focused on my surroundings, but who’s to say how long he stayed before he ordered a drink for me.

  Speaking of a car, I watched as a black vehicle with tinted windows drove up, stopping in front of me, only a few feet away. The passenger side window slowly lowered, and I gasped.

  “Let’s go.”

  My heart slammed into my throat and my eyes went wide when I saw Damien staring back at me from the driver’s seat. His expression told me I better watch what I did and said, because the results might not be pretty. How had he known where I was?

  “Get in, Anais.”

  The curtness of his words and the way he said my name had a chokehold on me, and for a moment I couldn’t move. When he started to open his door, I begrudgingly did as I was told. As soon as I was safely in the car, Damien sped off, barely giving me time to put my seatbelt on.

  “How did you know where I was?” I tried to remain as calm as I could, knowing that my reaction could cause the situation to escalate.

  “Your phone.” He said it as if I had just asked him what the weather was.

  The dam that contained my emotions broke. “You�
�re tracking me? Do you get off on stalking a grown woman?”

  The sneer Damien sent my way almost made me want to swallow my outburst. Almost. “Hardly. I had a feeling you might try to pull a stunt like this and asked Kingston to make sure I could track you via your phone. And I was right.”

  “How would you even know to look for me? Did you go back to the penthouse and see that I wasn’t there?”

  Damien’s hands clenched and unclenched the steering wheel before he answered. “No, a text message warned me to watch what belongs to me or I might lose it. Currently tracking down who sent it.”

  “I don’t belong to anyone.”

  He placed his hand on my denim-covered knee. The heaviness of his hand provided both comfort and control, reminding me of the contradictory feelings I felt for him. “That’s where you’re wrong, Spitfire. You do belong to me. I love the way that falls off the tongue.”

  “Fuck you.” I threw the note at the center console between the two of us.

  “What’s that?”

  “Looks like you’re not the only one who got a message from a secret admirer. Someone ordered a glass of wine for me while I was at the bar and the server delivered it along with this note.” I recited the terse letter to him and swore I heard a growl under his breath.

  “What were you doing at Hidden Tavern?” He phrased the sentence as a question, but if anyone were to ask me, I would have said it was a demand.

  I thought about lying but nixed that idea. “I read some files that Dave left for you in your office.”

  Damien took what I said in and slowly looked over at me. It didn’t take the world’s smartest person to tell me there was an inferno throughout his body and he was going to boil over in rage. “And what did you find?”

  “That you were keeping a file on me and my parents. This address was listed there, highlighted in yellow. I assumed Dave had questions about it.”