Valentine's Billionaire Bad Boys

by M. S. Parker

  I’d always assumed the place was overkill, but now I was thankful. James kept supplies down here for all the staff – clothes, food, water, enough to feed a houseful for a week. And that meant I had shoes down here. I needed to get out of these heels – they were pinching my toes something awful.

  As James explained the room’s purpose to Reaper, I leaned my back against the wall and kicked out of my shoes. I used the brief moment to check the texts, expecting the regular BS that came when I was out of contact.

  Twenty-six texts today.

  I went to shove the phone into my purse, but something made me pause.

  I clicked on the little message bubble icon.

  Ten missed calls.

  One was from a number I didn’t know, but the others…the same person who’d been texting me.

  “Shit,” I whispered as I scrolled through them.

  It was Demarre.

  And what he was telling me…

  I strode over to Reaper just as he was heading back up the stairs. “You need to read this.”

  “I don’t have time for this,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Make time.” Shoving the phone into his hand, I turned away and looked around the safe room, searching for something specific. I found what I was looking for almost immediately and gave James an apologetic look. “I…um, I need to be in clothes other than what I’m wearing.”

  “I’ll close my eyes, Olivia.”

  * * *

  “Look, O. I can’t tell ya what I don’t know, and I don’t know anything more than what I already said.” Demarre sounded about as frustrated as I felt and maybe just as scared. “You got any idea what some of those assholes might do to me if they found out I even called you?”

  “Yes.” I blew out a breath. “Actually, I do. I…Demarre, thank you. If you ever need something, you come find me.”

  “Shit, white girl. What do you think you can do for me?”

  It was about as much of a thank you as I could expect.

  “Thank you,” I said again before he hung up.

  Clutching the phone, I looked up at Reaper and James. Reaper had just gotten off the phone with the cop he’d been speaking with – again – and his face was grim. “We’re waiting for Detective Vogler and the FBI to ride in. Half an hour.”

  “That’s…” I shook my head, “that’s a very long time.”

  “Well, they’re trying to get the precinct closer to come and play, but…” Reaper made a disgusted sound.

  “Somebody spread a lot of money around,” James said quietly. “A lot of money. I’m not sure if Cherise has access to that kind of cash.”

  “Kylie Wallace does.” Reaper rubbed at his brow and then nodded at me. “Who was that…the kid?”

  “Yes. Apparently, someone was looking for anybody interested in making some easy money. That’s how it was described. This house – or the main house. Both are being watched.” I swallowed nervously. “They already know we’re here. I don’t–”

  The lights went out.

  “Stay with James, O.”

  He sounded so calm as he thrust a flashlight into my hand.

  So incredibly calm.

  I reached out and rested a hand on James’s shoulder, squeezing tightly. He covered my hand with his own. “Adam,” he said softly. “Be careful.”

  “I will. You two…stay here. No matter what.”

  “Adam…”

  I wanted to go to him, kiss him, tell him a hundred things, a thousand.

  I sensed him even though I couldn’t see him.

  Before I knew what to say, his mouth was on mine. His tongue thrust deep, and I reached out to grab him. But he moved away. “Stay down here. Stay safe. Trust me…I got this.”

  Chapter Ten

  Reaper

  Trust me.

  Famous last words. I don’t know why in the hell I said them. It was like I hadn’t been able to stop myself.

  Alone upstairs on the main floor of the house, I locked the door to the basement and turned to survey my surroundings. I had to give the man credit – the basement door blended in seamlessly with the wall itself. Unless somebody knew it was there, they might not see it at all.

  Almost like the man had planned for a time when all things might go straight to hell.

  Not that somebody running a billion-dollar arms and defense company might need a go-to-hell room.

  Particularly a well-equipped one.

  I had two weapons on me now, both courtesy of that go-to-hell room – the safe room as James had called it.

  The CR12, fairly comparable to the M-17, was tucked under my left arm in a shoulder holster that fit surprisingly well. I had a CR-117, an automatic that was just barely toned down from the model used by law enforcement personnel in my hands. I preferred the MK 16 that I’d gotten used to on missions, but…hell, beggars can’t be choosers and the weapon in my hands was one sweet piece of machinery.

  I used the night scope to check out the front window, not seeing much of anything. That was fine. I didn’t really expect anyone to come through the front. I took a minute to shove a heavy table against the door, turning it length-wise so that it was lodged between the door and the stairs just a few inches away. Unless somebody the size of a toddler tried to come inside, it wasn’t going to happen. The table was solid oak, so good luck just busting through. It might not hold forever, but it would buy time, and that was all I needed.

  I was only one man, and I only had two eyes.

  The back door was the more vulnerable and easily accessible area.

  That was where I needed to be.

  It also was just one room away from the hall that led to the basement – and James and O.

  No way was anybody getting through that kitchen.

  I cleared the rooms as I started toward the back of the house, my pulse steady and slow, mind clear. Some things, I guess we don’t ever leave them behind us completely.

  I’d just cleared the kitchen and was about ready to settle down to wait when I heard…something.

  I don’t know what it was, but it was out of place.

  I froze, straining to hear better and wishing like hell I had some of my old tools.

  It came again. A couple of voices…and footsteps.

  I brought the weapon back up and stared through the night scope.

  They were in the backyard, moving up to the house.

  Idiots.

  They’d cut the lights almost five minutes ago.

  They should have already moved in and done their job–

  Not the time to be criticizing them, I told myself. I didn’t want them doing their job well.

  But seriously, what kind of dumbasses cut the lights and then hung around for five minutes? I had no idea, although I was about to find out. I adjusted the light body armor I’d found down in the safe room, making a mental note to ask him just what in the hell he thought might happen to need such a room. The door creaked open as I settled into place by the window, staring outside.

  The alarm hadn’t gone off.

  I stared at the screen panel and realized they’d somehow hijacked it from outside.

  Okay, maybe they’d been doing something useful in those five minutes.

  I’d counted six outside. There were still five, so they must have sent one in to get the lay of the land.

  I’d give him a nice little welcome. The weapon I carried had a nice, sturdy strap that let me carry it around my neck. It was a little more awkward than I was used to, but I wasn’t in full combat gear either. It would work though. I’d kicked my shoes off earlier – the dress shoes I’d worn to the funeral weren’t exactly ideal for covert work. As the intruder came inside, I moved closer to the door, drawing the knife I’d strapped to my left thigh.

  He moved far enough away from the door that I could grab him without anyone noticing.

  Wrapping a forearm around him, I shoved the blade against his ribs and applied pressure. “Move and you’re dead in seconds.”

 
He moved.

  I shoved the blade in. It parted his flesh like butter, and I gave it a good twist before easing him down.

  Dragging him behind the door, I held still, waiting.

  Someone approached, whispering his name. At least, I assumed it was his name. It sure as hell wasn’t mine.

  “DeLeon.” A brief pause. “Damn it, DeLeon, this ain’t no time to be fucking around!”

  A few seconds later, a heavy pair of boots came thudding up the stairs. I got into position. Whoever this was, he wouldn’t be quite so easy to catch off guard, and judging by the way the floor shuddered under his weight, he might not be as easy to take down either. A beam of light appeared on the floor, and I sensed the man’s hesitation. Taking advantage, I shot my hand out, grabbed the wrist that was just barely visible and yanked.

  At the same time, I slammed forward into the door as hard as I could.

  A yelp of pain almost drowned out the sound of bone cracking. Almost.

  I yanked the wrist again, driving it into the door before moving out and grabbing my would-be assailant and hauling him inside. I slammed the door shut with my bare foot, then whirled the big man around, shoving him against it.

  He had dropped the .45 he’d been carrying in his left hand. I kicked it out of the way, tucking the fact that he’d been toting the weapon left-handed in my head. He was a southpaw – nobody would carry a flashlight in their dominant hand and a weapon in their weaker one. I’d broken his right hand. The pain might dull his senses for a few minutes, but if he was worth anything, it wouldn’t render him useless.

  Shoving the blade against his throat, I waited until his eyes cleared.

  It took a few seconds.

  When he finally saw me, I gave him a slow smile. “You made a big mistake, my friend.”

  “Fuck you, boy,” he said, panting.

  I pressed a little harder on the knife, watched as it broke skin. Blood kissed the edge. Continuing to stare into his eyes, I smiled. “However much they’re paying you…is it worth dying for?”

  “Bitch, you ain’t got the balls.” But his eyes were wide, the whites showing all around his pupils, and sweat breaking out all over his face.

  Without blinking, I pulled back on the blade, shifted my stance and then drove the blade through his shoulder. His sharp scream pierced the air.

  “What were you saying about balls?”

  The blade had penetrated the drywall behind him, and he was now skewered on it. Leaving the automatic in the sling affixed to the body armor, I pulled the CR12 and leveled it at him. “The safety is off. One twitch and you’re dead.”

  Movement out the window caught my eye. Switching positions, I took aim at the door, about mid-thigh if anybody was rushing. The trajectory would send the rounds into the ground if they didn’t hit anyone immediately outside the door. I didn’t want any neighbors to end up as casualties. The deafening rounds served dual purposes, as I’d hoped. The men in the yard stopped their advance, and the man screaming went silent.

  “You need to tell them where you are. If they start shooting, you’ll be the first one hit.” I smiled. “And I’m wearing body armor. Are you?”

  “Don’t shoot,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.

  “Louder.”

  He sucked in a breath and in a thin, but audible shout, he ordered, “Don’t shoot. I’m trapped by the wall.”

  “Good boy. Now, you want to discuss my balls again or can we move on to more important things?”

  “Take this…fucking knife out.” He stared at me with hate in his eyes.

  “Sure. After we establish some rules. Your men need to leave. Really leave.”

  “Fuck you.” He reached up and closed a hand around the grip of the knife, but even that slight movement set him to moaning all over again.

  I closed in on him and grabbed it, twisting. “You really want to push me?”

  “I send them away, you’re gonna kill me.” His dark gold skin had gone pale, eyes huge. “I ain’t wanting to die.”

  “Then you shouldn’t have taken this job.” I paused, glancing out the window before looking back at him. “Who’s in charge? You?”

  He nodded. “Those my boys out there.”

  I caught the knife, covering his hand with mine and tightening. He started to whimper. “And do your boys listen to you?”

  “Yes…shit, fuck. Yes. Just please…stop it, okay? Stop…” He was sobbing by the time I was done.

  “You tell your boys to put their weapons down and then get the hell away from them. Do that, and I’ll pull this out.”

  He sucked in a breath and gave the order. It took a few tries to convince them he was serious, but finally, all of them had placed weapons on the ground and moved to the other side of the narrow back yard. I doubted they’d given up every weapon they had. I sure as hell wouldn’t have, but with two of them down and most of their weapons gone, I’d evened the odds a bit.

  “Now…” I gave him an unpleasant smile, “this is going to hurt.”

  He collapsed to the floor, retching.

  I wasn’t surprised one of them was stupid enough to rush the door. The CR12, silencer in place, proved satisfyingly accurate as I took aim at his left leg. He went down with a scream.

  “Who…what the fuck…who’d you shoot, you dumb fuck?”

  Looking at the man on the ground, I said, “I’m not so sure you’re in a position to be calling anybody a dumb fuck.” I swiped the sweat out of my eyes as I crouched by him. “This one, I shot in the leg. I won’t be so nice next time. Better let them know. You’ve already lost one man.”

  I saw the knowledge in his eyes. “DeLeon.”

  “Yes. Tell them.”

  A few seconds later, I hauled him into a sitting position against the wall beneath the window where I could keep both of him and his boys in my sight. “Tell me who sent you and what the job was.”

  His lips peeled back from his teeth. “Fuck.”

  Then he started to talk.

  Chapter Eleven

  Olivia

  I flinched at the sound of a weapon firing.

  “He knows what he’s doing.”

  James sounded so confident.

  I wish I had a tenth of his faith.

  Striding back and forth across the floor, I fought the urge to stare longingly up the stairs. I also had to fight the urge to creep up the stairs and do whatever I could to help.

  Reaper wouldn’t need my help.

  He could handle this on his own. He knew what he was doing – just like James said. But I wanted to be with him. Be up there, helping.

  “Olivia.”

  I wanted to ignore James. If this was just another one of his pep talks, I thought I might scream. But when I turned back to face him, he wasn’t even looking at me. “We might have a problem.”

  He pointed a thin finger at the array of cameras on the wall.

  “It’s the cops.” I started to breathe out a sigh of relief, but James shook his head, reaching up to pull something out of his ear. A microphone. He’d been listening in. The cameras were equipped to pick up conversations across the street if need be, so I had no doubt he’d heard whatever it was he needed to hear.

  “The cop in the rear just put in a call. And look…” he gestured to another screen, and I watched as he rewound the feed from one of the cameras in the back. One of the men crouched there had a phone to his ear.

  “Now listen.”

  The voices were thin and tinny, but audible.

  “What’s going on?”

  “DeLeon is missing. Now Rodrigo is in there, screaming like he’s been butchered. We ain’t signed up for this crazy shit, man.”

  “You just keep him from getting out.” The call disconnected, and he shoved away from the wall, moving to catch up with the partner who was scoping out the perimeter.

  “They’re in on it.”

  “Distinct possibility.” James tugged at his lower lip and then heaved himself upright. “I’m going up there.”<
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  “Like hell.” I shoved down on his shoulders. He fought, but he’d gotten so weak over the past few days, his sad attempt didn’t add up to much. “If I can push you around, you won’t stand a chance. You barely made it down the stairs. Don’t give them a hostage.”

  “We can’t leave him alone.”

  “We’re not.” Blowing out a breath, I picked up the weapon James had laid out. I was an excellent shot – he’d made sure of it. The CR-201 was a smaller model, perfect for my hand. Checking the chamber, I eyed the stairs nervously.

  “Olivia, don’t.”

  Shaking my head, I started toward the steps.

  “He has no idea. I’m not leaving him alone.” I gave him a small salute and tapped the vest Reaper had insisted I put on. “Besides, I’m covered…mostly.”

  “It won’t protect that thick skull of yours.”

  I gave him a quick kiss on the temple, breathing in the scent of his aftershave. “I know. But my head is so thick, it might be bulletproof.”

  The choked noise that came from him could have been a laugh or a sob. I didn’t look back to check.

  “You know…I never did like your sister-in-law, James,” I said as I opened the door, staring out into the black maw of the basement.

  “Neither did I.”

  I shut the door behind me. And because I knew him, I added in the code that would disable the door’s opening mechanism for the next hour. If this wasn’t over by then, there wasn’t much Reaper or I would be able to do.

  And if it was…James would be so pissed off.

  I started up the steps, keeping my back pressed to the wall the way I’d seen Reaper do when he’d left. There were cameras all over the public areas of the house, a security precaution that I’d always seen as overkill. Now, though…hell, I’d give the security team a big fat kiss – each one of them – when I saw them. And I would.

  The door was closed, and I stood there as long as I dared, listening before I opened it, only an inch at first, holding my breath as I prepared for an unseen attack. None of the self-defense classes I took, none of the lessons I’d learned on the street had prepared me for this sort of thing.