The Barrington Billionaires Collection 1

by Danielle Stewart

  “Shit,” he breathed, shaking the fog out of his head. “I’ve got to check the front gate. Lock the door behind me and don’t follow me out this time. I don’t know what’s going on.”

  “Do you think it’s—?”

  “I don’t know,” Dallas said, jogging outside. “But I’ve got it under control. Stay put.”

  Harlan’s face was ghost white, her eyes wide as she folded her arms over herself. “Be careful,” she begged as he closed the door tightly behind him.

  Breaking into a full sprint, Dallas drew his weapon and headed for the front gate. The commotion was enough to cut through the silence of the night.

  “Just take it easy,” the guard at the gate instructed someone Dallas could not see.

  “She’s keeping me from them,” Rylie yelled out into the darkness of the night. “I want my kids. I want them.”

  “Call the police,” Dallas instructed as he holstered his gun. There would be no need for it now that he knew who he was dealing with. “The only thing you’re going to see tonight is the inside of a cruiser, and what you do next determines if a prison cell is in your future.

  “You can’t keep me from them,” Rylie yelled. “I’m going to see them. I love them. They deserve their father.”

  “I guess you and I can agree on that,” Dallas said, staring through the metal fence. “They do deserve their father. Any chance that guy is still in there?” He pointed to Rylie’s chest.

  “You don’t know a damn thing.”

  “Go get help,” Dallas instructed. “I’ll have a car come pick you up and get you into rehab. All you have to do is want to get help. I’ll make sure you get what you need.”

  “Go to hell,” Rylie barked. “I don’t need some meathead idiot telling me what to do with my family. You’re hired help. You don’t know shit.” He slammed a hand to his own chest so hard he nearly fell over. “Let me in, or I’ll take all three of you out.”

  “There’s only two of us,” the guard remarked, a small snicker. “You really are hammered, huh?”

  Sometimes Dallas was certain he was clairvoyant. It was more likely that he’d honed his skill at reading body language and anticipating situations, but he could usually tell what someone was going to do before they did it. This was no exception. Rylie cocked his fist back sloppily and lunged toward the guard, who sidestepped quickly. With an embarrassingly loud croaking noise Rylie skidded over his own feet and hit the dirt.

  “Stay down,” Dallas groaned, waving off the guard, who looked ready to pounce with some heavy-handed retribution. “Rylie, I’m sure you’re not a bad guy, but right now you’re acting like an asshole. I’m calling a car to get you out of here.”

  “You don’t know shit about me,” Rylie argued, flopping over on his back looking like a truly broken man.

  “I don’t,” Dallas agreed, sticking a hand down to pull Rylie back to his feet. “But I’ve spent enough time with Harlan to realize she wouldn’t have settled for a guy without any redeeming qualities.” Lifting Rylie up in one move, he settled him back on his feet and knocked a bit of the dust off his shoulder.

  Rylie shoved him back, clearly not wanting his help. “Spending a lot of time with my wife?”

  “Protecting her,” Dallas corrected, puffing his chest out, letting Rylie know there were limits to his kindness. “I’m good at my job. Don’t become someone I need to protect her from. You’ll regret that.”

  “I’ll regret that,” Rylie mocked, gesturing frantically. “Big tough guy.”

  “Rylie,” Dallas demanded, “here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to plant your ass on that bench. I’m going to call for a car. It’s going to take you to a place. My friend Lilly, she’s going to help you out.”

  “I don’t want some skank,” Rylie began, but his mouth snapped shut as Dallas shoved him onto the bench in a sitting position.

  “Lilly is a doctor. She specializes in detox. You don’t want to go into rehab, that’s fine. You give Lilly a couple of days and she’ll help you start to get your head straight.”

  “They’re right in there,” Rylie said, his voice cracking with emotion. “I bet they’re in bed. I bet they are in those pink pajamas with the frilly sleeves.”

  “There’s a path back,” Dallas said. “Not back to exactly where you were. Not back to where you started, not back to everything you had. But right now you’re running as fast as you can in the wrong direction. Tonight is the one shot I’ll give you. After tonight, if you come within a hundred feet of these girls with even the smell of alcohol on your breath, I will destroy you. Look me in the eye,” Dallas leaned down so Rylie had no choice. “Do you see the truth in my eyes? When I say destroy you, I’m not being sarcastic. I’m not talking in vague terms. I’m talking about taking whatever miserable pathetic little piece of your life you have left and crushing it.”

  “I’ll win her back,” Rylie grunted, his head starting to droop under the weight of his drunken stupor.

  “Just get yourself together,” Dallas said, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Don’t test me.”

  “Don’t test me,” Rylie mocked again, as he lay his body across the bench and propped his head on his folded arms. “Jackass,” he mumbled as his breathing turned to snores.

  Dallas directed his attention to the guard. “Make sure he gets in the car. I want an update the second he’s out of here. If he wakes up and starts making a scene again, tie him to the damn bench and tape his mouth shut.”

  “You’re a better man than I am,” the guard chuckled. “I would have knocked his teeth out if you weren’t here to wave me off. The guy’s a drunk. A loud, pushy, stalking jerk. Do you really think he’s going to get his act together?”

  “No clue,” Dallas admitted. “I don’t even care one way or another.”

  “Then why not just toss him back in his car and give him a few bruises for the road?”

  “Because there’s two little girls in the house, and right now they’re fine. They’ve got their mom and they’re little enough to be happy every day no matter what’s going on in their lives. But they’ll get older, and they’ll want their dad. Every kid does. Maybe he can get his life back together in time for that.”

  “You’re an optimist,” the guard huffed. “I’d have thought in this line of work you’d have gotten that beaten out of you by now.”

  “They keep trying,” Dallas said, as he headed back to the house. He’d make a phone call, do what he could for Rylie. There was no way he deserved Harlan back. Whether or not she’d take him back, he wasn’t sure. It was one thing to try to be a parent, but he’d probably blown it with Harlan. However, he’d still make the call, because it was the right thing to do.

  As he made his way back to the front steps, he looked up and saw the bathroom window lit with low flickering candlelight. Harlan stood, half exposing her naked body from behind the lace curtains. The smile lit her face, and he chuckled loud enough he was sure she could hear. Shaking his head and putting a hand over his heart he stared up at her, as though she was slowly killing him.

  “Goodnight,” she mouthed down to him with a tiny wave of her delicate fingers.

  “Goodnight,” he called back to her, bowing his head as the curtain closed again. Doing the right thing. Following the rules. There were times it paid off, and nights like this, when a woman like Harlan was within reach, doing the right thing was painful. But there would be a replacement for him. Another competent security person would come and take his place, then he’d be the one to run that bath and put her in. There would be no rules that night.

  Chapter 14

  “What happened at the gate last night?” Harlan asked, sliding a hot plate of breakfast in front of Dallas. He’d tried to refuse about ten times, saying that sitting for a meal wasn’t his style, but in true stubborn fashion she ignored him. Her mother still wasn’t feeling well, although Harlan knew it had far less to do with any kind of flu and more to do with being rattled by the excitement of the perimeter
breach. Those things shook her nerves and usually kept her in bed. “Once I saw you were down there I ran the bath. You’d have tripped the alarm if it was anything serious.”

  “It was Ry—” He hesitated as he looked over at the girls who were pouring far too much syrup on their pancakes. “R-Y-L-I-E” he spelled, knowing that trick.

  “I just wish . . .” Harlan said, sinking into her chair and pushing her scrambled eggs around.

  “I sent him somewhere to get help. It’s small, effective, and he’d have a good shot at recovery if he really wants that.”

  “Why?” Harlan asked, mixed emotions flooding her. Rylie getting better, even the hope of him recovering was something she had hoped for but never really let herself believe.

  “Because he needs it,” Dallas said matter-of-factly between bites of bacon.

  “Oh,” she said, tilting her head and eyeing him skeptically. Dallas was on her brothers’ short list of trusted friends; he’d proven himself reliable and effective. She hadn’t prepared for him to be a good man too. How could all of that be in one person? If marriage, her life really, had taught her anything it was that the old adage too good to be true was profoundly reliable. “Thanks for doing that. You didn’t have to.”

  “I know,” Dallas said. “You didn’t have to make me breakfast. So we’re both going above and beyond.”

  “Can we watch television?” Anna asked, her plate already in her hands ready to run to the other room.

  “Fine,” Harlan sighed, smiling at her daughters as they snuck away. “We should get back to our own house, our own routine. I’m caving to them on everything. I feel bad our lives are so upended that every time they ask for something I’m saying yes.”

  “There are worse things.” Dallas shrugged, demolishing his breakfast at lightning speed. “This will pass. You’ll get your bearings again.”

  “I hope so,” Harlan said, refilling his glass of orange juice. “But until then let them eat in the living room. Let them stay up a few minutes more. And while they do that we can work on Tim’s case, right?”

  “Right,” Dallas agreed. “I’ve got a few ideas for that. I put in some calls to people, and I think digging deeper into Angus is the way to go. I looked into Larry thoroughly over the last few months. I know he was mixed up in a bunch of petty crimes and spent most of his time at a pool hall at night. His parents had cut him off a few months earlier, and he had started driving for a car service. One of those drive-your-own-car things where you pick people up. There isn’t much to find from him. Maybe if we find out more about Angus, why someone might want him dead, we can connect the dots.”

  “I agree,” Harlan nodded. “Do you think he stayed the night? You think he’s going to take it seriously?”

  “Angus?” Dallas asked, his face twisting up in confusion.

  “Rylie,” Harlan corrected, blushing. It was complicated to be playing this tantalizing game with Dallas while also hoping Rylie could get himself together. She was unsure how that must look to Dallas.

  “I’m expecting to hear from Lilly sometime this morning. She’ll take good care of him if he’s serious about cleaning himself up. It’s his best shot.”

  “But he has to take it,” she gulped. “He has to want to get himself back on track.”

  “Oh,” Dallas said, lighting with recognition. “I hadn’t thought about how that must feel.”

  “What?” she wondered, hardly able to articulate her feelings herself.

  “The idea that this is his best shot, but only if he takes it. Not taking, walking away, that’s choosing his problems over his family. It’s making a conscious choice that he’s not ready to stop, and his children aren’t worth changing for.”

  “Stop,” she begged, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. “I, I would rather talk about the case. I shouldn’t have brought this up.”

  “Shit,” Dallas said, dropping his fork down. “I’m an asshole. I didn’t mean it like that. Sometimes I forget about the emotional side of things. Everything is just what it is.”

  “You’re right,” she nodded, patting her eyes dry quickly. “It’s pretty cut and dry.”

  “But people have feelings,” Dallas said, still chastising himself. “I need to remember that more.”

  “Angus,” Harlan announced, clearing her throat and fidgeting nervously. “How can we find out more about him? I’ll see what I can find online. Everything I pulled up so far was pretty superficial. He’s a longtime resident, lives a few streets over from the house he grew up in. I’m sure he’s well known in the neighborhood. Maybe someone can tell us something.”

  “You feel like playing private eye?” Dallas asked, his coy, playful smile returning.

  “I’d love to, but I’m playing Mom today. The girls have a cookie bake sale for dance school, and I’ll be rolling out dough with them today.”

  “You know you’re rich, right? Like insanely wealthy. You can buy cookies, gourmet cookies. Hell, you can buy the dance school if you wanted to instead of raising a few bucks for it.” Dallas polished off the rest of his juice and leaned way back in his chair, eyeing her as though he were dissecting her.

  “I grew up rich,” Harlan said, fiddling with the locket around her neck. “I grew up with a nanny, a chef, and loads of people available to do anything I wanted. The only problem was they couldn’t give me the one thing I really hoped for. Some flour on my hands, while my mother and I burnt a batch of chocolate chip cookies. I wanted to dirty up my clothes out on the playground. I wanted to dance at some tiny little school that only kept the lights on because the parents were willing to get together and sell baked goods.”

  “And see I wanted to be a billionaire who didn’t have to cut lawns to make sure we had enough money for groceries. I wanted to go to a school that didn’t have windows so old the snow blew in.”

  “I guess we all want what we don’t have,” she said, averting her eyes as he scrutinized her face.

  “I think it’s great that you’re making things the way you want them. You are making your life the one you want.”

  “Right,” Harlan laughed. “The world is my oyster.”

  “From the outside, if I only saw you today, with an apron on cooking these scrambled eggs and singing to the girls before you knew I was here watching you, I’d say you were doing all right.”

  “Life’s just a big book. You’re walking in on the middle of a chapter. You’re looking at the pages that feel good to read.”

  “You’re the author,” Dallas said, pushing his chair back from the table and standing. “Write yourself something good. Be happy, and before you know it you’ll have plenty of reasons to be.”

  “So simple,” she smiled, sorry to see him heading for the door. “Good luck tracking down information on Angus. I’ll spend time this afternoon looking around online again.”

  “When I went to visit him at the prison the other day, Tim was asking about you,” Dallas said, standing in the kitchen doorway, half in and half out. “He saw you at the appeal and he wanted to know who you were.”

  “What did you tell him?” Harlan was anxious to hear how Dallas described her to a friend.

  “I told him the truth,” he winked, flashing a dimple.

  “The truth?” she asked, raising a challenging brow in his direction.

  “Yep,” he said, snapping his lips shut and heading out the front door, leaving her with more questions than answers.

  “Mom,” Logan called from the other room. “Anna spilled syrup on the carpet.”

  “It was her fault,” Anna bickered.

  “Okay, okay,” Harlan said, taking one more bite of her now cold eggs. “Mom’s coming.”

  Chapter 15

  Dallas sat in the corner booth and scanned the menu. He was originally going to have a soda, ask a few questions, and be on his way. But once the plate of meatballs went by and was served to the table next to his, he knew he had to eat. Now he was wondering how many things he could order without looking like a crazy
person.

  “Is this your first time in?” a curly haired woman with a bright smile asked as she brought him a glass of water. She was tiny, hardly five feet tall, and her eyes were rimmed with thick eyeliner.

  “It is,” Dallas said, still trying to figure out if chicken parm and a couple slices of pizza was too much. “Everything looks great. Any suggestions?”

  “Stretchy pants,” she laughed, pulling out an order pad and getting ready to write down his order. “The meatballs are the specialty. My father got the recipe from his grandmother.”

  “Your father, he’s the owner here?” Dallas asked, his eyes still on the menu. “Or the chef or something?”

  “He was,” she said, enough of a shake in her hand to give her away. A chord had been struck, and Dallas knew he’d have to capitalize on it.

  “Not anymore?” Dallas asked, still forcing himself to act only half interested.

  “He was killed about a year ago. My mother and I are running the place now. He had three other restaurants but we had to close those. This was his flagship location. We’re doing the best we can with it.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Dallas said earnestly. “It must be hard to be here every day without him.”

  “My mother and I always teased him. Said his job was easy, and he was making too big a deal of everything. Now that we’re trying to keep things afloat, we realize how much he really had to do.” There were tears threatening to fall from her sad eyes.

  “My uncle had a sandwich shop in South Boston when I was growing up. I don’t know how he ever managed it. I’d go in during the summer and help out, and I’d be amazed at how much work went into it. I’m sure your dad would be proud. It seems like you’re doing great.”

  “Thanks,” she said, choking up. “That’s really nice of you. You know what? I’ll bring you a couple of my dad’s favorite things. You won’t be disappointed.” A big bright smile lit her face as she sauntered away excitedly.

  “She’s a sweet girl,” the man who’d just received the large plate of meatballs said. His bristly white mustache bounced up and down as he spoke.