Ruthless Renovator : A Hero Club Novel

by Paisleigh Aumack

  By the time I made it outside and had lit a smoke, the phone was ringing in my ear.

  “Tell me you are shitting me right now?” the voice on the other end growled at me. Fuck me. This was a bad idea.

  “No, D. I’m not shitting you right now,” I replied.

  “What’s it been, about a year? Not a fucking peep about you until shit was finalized a few months ago. Let me guess, you need somethin’,” Davien chuckled. Davien Miller was the head of security for my ex-wife. He was always around when I was married and we’d formed a bond. However, in normal Zane MacIntyre fashion, I stopped communication with him after my ex and I separated. Davien had no reason to help me now, but he was the only person I could think of to try to dig around.

  “Yea, man. I need you to look into someone for me. Think you can help with that?”

  “Why the fuck would I help you after you fell off the face of the earth? When I saw your number come up on my screen I thought I was seein’ things. Thought we were friends, Zane, but you dropped me just as fast as Bibi. I mean, thank fuck for that divorce. That whole situation was a disaster from the beginning. Anyway, why should I help you now?” D wondered.

  Davien Miller. One gigantic son of a bitch with a sentimental heart. He was hurt and that was on me too.

  Was there anyone I hadn’t hurt that I came into contact with?

  “Look, D. I get it. My actions hurt you and all I can say is I’m sorry. This isn’t about me though, man. It’s about Joss,” I whispered the last sentence. D knew my history with Josselyn and how I felt about her.

  “Fine, fucker. But only because it’s her.” Davien had a soft spot for Josselyn too. He followed her career and admired her talent.

  “I need you to look into a man named Bruno Haynes. He is the head of the radio station Josselyn works at. He doesn’t give me good vibes, if you know what I mean.”

  “Right. Gotcha. Let me see what I can do. Call you when I get somethin’.” Davien disconnected before I could say anything else.

  Walking to my car, I shrugged out of the suit jacket, opened my door, and threw it in the back seat of my navy blue Chevelle. I hated suits. I was much more comfortable in my jeans and a T-shirt. The suits were something I put up with mostly for meetings, like today, or with my investors. When I turned the key and felt the machine roar to life, I let go of some of the tension that was still firing below the surface on a deep exhale, rolled down my window, turned Joss’s show on to catch the rest of it, and made my way to my house. I should have put music on. What I heard about her one-night stands and the rest of her sex life, I could’ve lived without. As quick as some of the tension left, it was back.

  Tomorrow, I’d start to rectify the situation with Josselyn and me.

  CHAPTER 5

  Soraya Venedetta-Morgan.

  Joss

  WHEN I SAW Zane leave the booth, I knew I hit my mark and I felt like I could relax and settle into the show. If he wanted to play games and try to screw with my career, he had another thing coming. He should know better. After all, he did always say, “Don’t play a game you know you can’t win.” The rest of the show went on just like every other one, open and easy. The fact remains, however, Zane is as gorgeous as ever and seems keen on games.

  After the show, I finished up some last-minute details, closed down my office, and met Arden at her desk just as she was standing to leave. It was the craziest day we’ve had in a while and I could really use some adult beverages. Plus, I wanted to get to the bottom of what the hell was going on with Wes and her.

  “Hey, girlie. Want to grab a drink with me? We can hit up The Proud Lantern and we can bitch and complain to each other about our very craptastic days,” I hinted on a rushed, agitated exhale.

  “That actually sounds perfect. Did you want to hop in with me and I can just drive you home later?” Arden asked.

  “Sure. Let’s do it.” My board was tucked under my arm as we made our way to the elevators to head to the parking lot. Just as the elevator was closing, a very manly hand wrapped around one of the doors and forced them to open again. Wes stood before us and still looked murderous but it was not at all directed at me. A look of shock passed quickly across Arden’s face when she saw him but she jutted out her hip, placed her hand on it, looked at the nails on her opposite hand like she was bored, and pretended like she couldn’t care less. She didn’t find him as scary as I did when he looked like that.

  “Arden, a word?” he semi-asked on a bark.

  Honestly, it was more of a demand and she just smirked at him and calmly said, “No, you may not have a word. I’m going to hang out with my friend. No time to boost your ego after the hit it took today, Wes.” He didn’t like that response at all. He growled at her. And I mean he actually growled like an animal at her. Wes stood there for a few minutes, deep breathed, and just stared at Arden like he was doing all he could not to drag her away like a caveman. I stood there fascinated as I watched their interaction. It wasn’t just entertaining; it was also hot as hell because you could feel the sexual tension rolling off them both. It was about time these two screwed each other’s brains out. Seemed to be the only logical solution to me..

  “You can stare all you want, Weston. I am not going to jump at your command. I am going to go have a drink or two with my friend. Maybe you should do the same. When I am ready, we’ll talk.” Holy shit! Arden just called him Weston. He hates being referred to with his full name. His nostrils flared as he let out an extremely ragged exhale and then he was gone. The elevator doors closed, and Arden and I were completely silent as it descended down to the lot where her car was parked.

  _______________

  When Arden and I arrived at The Proud Lantern, an establishment well frequented by us, and a usual scouting spot for possible hookups. The host, Ben, showed us to our normal spot at a booth in the center of the action. Normally, people like a booth in the back, but we enjoyed being able to look at everything. Plus, it was quiet enough in this booth so we didn’t have to shout at each other over the music to talk. As we sat and got situated, Ben handed us the menus, and told us our server would be over shortly. Our server on Mondays was always this young, good-looking, twenty-five-year-old named Wilder. Talk about a name matching a face, too. He always flirted with us and would throw in free drinks, so we didn’t care. Being as young as he was, we never reciprocated the flirting and he knew where to draw the line.

  The Proud Lantern had a very old-time feel and look to it. Dark wood walls, counters, and floors that were worn, but had character, adorned The Proud Lantern. Lanterns in different colors hung down over every table and booth. Off to the right was a long bar with the usual shelves of booze behind it and wood stools in front. Mostly locals sat at the bar for hours after their workday, but occasionally I would infiltrate and get to know some of them. None of the folks in this place knew who I was, so it was easy to be open to them and blend in.

  After Wilder took our drink order and we put in for some appetizers, I stared at Arden and watched her look around, trying to avoid me. Fat fucking chance of that, so I cleared my throat to get her attention.

  “Ardie, girl. What the fuck was that shit hot elevator scene all about?” I asked.

  She sighed and finally looked at me to say, “We had drinks one night a while back. I mean, Wes is hot as fuck and a nice guy, so why not? Right? It went really well and we kissed. I thought we were going to see where things went but he backed off. Since that night, Wes thinks he has a say in my life in and outside of work. He sends mixed signals so I made my point today on air. Apparently, he didn’t appreciate me doing that so the elevator scene was the result of his tantrum.”

  “Fucking hell, Ardie. If I wasn’t in that elevator, I am pretty sure the two of you would have been screwing like rabbits,” I gave her my two cents. I called Arden, Ardie, just not at work. The nickname popped out one night after a few too many drinks and just stuck.

  “Yea, well, Wes had his chance. I can’t wait around for him. Anyway
, talking about shit hot, Zane has definitely changed in the past two years.” Arden expertly changed the subject just as Wilder came back with our drinks.

  Arden wasn’t wrong. He definitely changed. He was more…everything. Zane was more arrogant, more handsome than I remembered, and definitely more established. I wasn’t doing too bad for myself, but Zane had his life together in a way that made me really want to know what happened in the last few years.

  “Is that the Josselyn Easton?” I heard from behind me and was brought out of my thoughts of Zane.

  That accent only meant it could be one person.

  I slid out of the booth without looking back; leaving Arden confused, and ran to Soraya and gave her a huge hug.

  “Shit. Soraya! What the hell are you doing here?” I asked her. We had just talked two nights ago on the phone and she hadn’t said a word about coming to California. We had met when Soraya came to do an interview on my show. We’d hit it off in the pre-interview meeting and we kept in touch after. Soraya worked for Ida Goldman, a legendary New York advice columnist, but had taken over the column a while back when Ida retired. The column was going national when I had interviewed her. Now it was and Soraya was gaining popularity. Advice columns were making a comeback, even in this digital age.

  “I’m here with Graham. He has some meetings. We weren’t sure we’d have any downtime, but turns out some of the meetings didn’t pan out or take as long as he thought. Unfortunately, he is stuck in a meeting right now but told me to go enjoy myself. We are only here until Saturday but I wanted to surprise you!” she finished.

  “Well, I am definitely surprised. Come sit with us. You remember Arden, right?”

  “How could I forget? Hey, Arden,” Soraya greeted, as she slid next to me in the booth. Arden waved and smiled at her welcome. As soon as Wilder caught sight of a new face in the booth, he sauntered over and took Soraya’s order.

  Soraya Venedetta was of Italian descent, much like Arden. She had gorgeous straight black hair, which she dyed the tips of to match her mood—today was royal blue which meant things were going well for her—lips shaped like a perfect bow, beautiful brown eyes, and a great rack. Basically, she was a bombshell and it was no wonder her man, Graham Morgan of Morgan Financial Holdings, couldn’t keep his hands off her. She was the center of attention in our power booth, as Soraya called it.

  “The fact that you still choose the power booth in the center of the room tells me you haven’t settled yet, have you?” Soraya asked me. She listened to my show religiously. Soraya said my show was the radio equivalent to her column. We were both very open and brutally honest when it came to our advice and lives.

  “Nope. Still looking, unsuccessfully,” I told her. It was really starting to get depressing how much of a failure I had been in my relationships. Soraya was a straight shooter and we had discussed my theories on Arden and Wes at length. I knew what she was gearing up to.

  Soraya slid her gaze to Arden and asked her, “What about you? Any prospects?”

  Arden choked on her drink and narrowed her eyes at Soraya. “I am even more unsuccessful than Joss, so no,” she said just tad bit bitchier than normal for Arden.

  “Well, there are plenty of hot guys in Cali. You two should be prancing around in bikinis on the beach. Not sitting in The Proud Lantern being hit on by the waitstaff. Then again, I met Graham essentially on a train, so who the hell am I to talk?”

  The three of us talked, laughed, and caught up. Arden seemed to snap out of her mood and joined in, but I could tell she wanted to be somewhere else. It was great to have two of the coolest people I knew with me to combat the shitty day I’d had. It felt like only a half hour passed when in actuality, three hours had flown by. Soraya got a call from Graham that he was back at his friend Chance’s house and walking the goat. I had heard about this guy, Chance, and his goat from Arden who lived next door to them. After she hung up, Soraya left some cash for part of the tab, said her goodbyes, and left. Arden and I paid the bill and headed out to the parking lot. We were right across the street from the ocean.

  “Want to walk the line for a bit?” I asked Arden. Walking the line, or walking along the beach at the part the water met the sand, was something we did regularly when we had shit weighing us down. The sounds of the water crashing, the birds flying above, and the feel of sand under our feet always calmed us both.

  “Sure.” It was said so quietly and on a shrug of her shoulders.

  Ardie was in her head again and I could tell she was trying to fake a good mood. Instead of forcing Arden to talk, we walked in silence.

  My thoughts drifted to Wes. He was a man who seemed to know exactly what he wanted and went after it full throttle. It was crazy to me that Wes wouldn’t want to be with Arden. She had model looks, stunning strawberry blonde hair that fell just past her shoulders, legs that went on for days, and eyes so chocolatey they mesmerized you if you stared too long. Maybe I should talk to Wes and find out what the hell the problem is. By the look on his face when he held the elevator, he may not want to share his feelings with me. I loved them both and whatever they wanted, I’d support, as long as they ended up happy.

  About an hour later, Arden had said she was tired. We walked back to her car and she drove me home. The car ride was quiet. The music played softly in the background while she drove me to my apartment in East Hollywood. Arden lived in Hermosa Beach but never seemed to mind the drive from my place to hers. When I arrived at my apartment, I immediately went to the bedroom, grabbed my robe, and then made my way into my bathroom. I ran a hot bath with some bubbles, sank in, and tried to soak the day from my skin. Normally, I did this to soothe my muscles. Now, I did this to try to forget I had to see Zane twice in one week. The effort was useless. I couldn’t seem to get his handsome face out of my mind, which lead to me giving myself an orgasm.

  Whatever.

  I was a hot mess and I knew it, so why not embrace it.

  CHAPTER 6

  My Boss, Graham Morgan.

  Mac

  IT HAD BEEN two days since I made the call to Davien and I still hadn’t heard anything back from him. I was climbing the walls in my house, biding my time until Thursday when I saw her again. Davien was good at what he did so I didn’t really have anything to worry about. My concentration needed to be on the meeting I had with my investor, Graham Morgan, in two hours. We were meeting at The Proud Lantern, a local watering hole. Graham’s woman, Soraya, travelled with him, met some friends there on Monday while Graham did his work thing, and said the drinks alone were worth it. Unfortunately for me, all I could think about was Josselyn and any hope I had for preparing for the meeting went right out the fucking window.

  Josselyn.

  Damnit, but she hadn’t left my mind since that fucking incident in the conference room. Just knowing she can’t stand being anywhere near me makes my dick hard. It’s unhinged but the absolute truth. The fact she wasn’t making my reentrance into her life easy told me all I needed to know and I needed to strategize accordingly. The way her gorgeous eyes got a liquid metal color and flashed when she threw that attitude around made my instincts to claim her skyrocket. I knew winning her over was going to be the most difficult thing I had ever done in my life, but fixing things was kind of my gig.

  Besides when I wanted something, I was ruthless in my quest to get it.

  With the way my life had started out, I could say with complete honesty I did not ever think I would be in the position I found myself in at that moment. I’d wanted to be a pro skateboarder for as long as I could remember. Had I known then what I know now, I would have gone to school. Then again, if I had gone to school, I never would have found Josselyn in that skate park. Now, though, I was making more money than I knew what to do with, living in the illustrious Hermosa Beach in a home I renovated myself, and farther away from Joss than I ever wanted to be.

  I was too far in my head. One step at a time. I had to keep reminding myself this.

  On that note, without even t
hinking, I grabbed my phone and went to the app I downloaded for Joss’s show. It allowed anyone to stream her show live anywhere. It loaded right up and within three seconds, her voice was filling the air in my house. Just hearing her voice helped settle me down.

  I grabbed my earbuds and popped them in while I walked out to sit on my deck overlooking the water and listen to my girl’s show. What I thought I’d hear was her talking about being with other men and the like. Instead, I heard a more serious, sedate Joss talking about her life growing up and the loss of her mom. It shocked me to hear Josselyn talking so openly about this time in her life. She’d only spoken to me about it once. And it took a fuck of a lot of tequila to get her there. It was obvious to anyone listening to her that the pain still lingered below the surface for her mother.

  I thought back to the night. While we were drunk that night, Joss told me all about how she had lost her mom and was basically raised by a father who thought she was a boy. She would tell me stories about how her dad was a good guy; he just didn’t know what to do with a teenage girl. Thankfully, anything that had to do with womanly things had been taught to her by her teachers, friends, and even her mom before she got too sick. Joss’s dad did what he could but as soon as she was signed, he split. Josselyn dealt with that in pure Joss fashion. She metaphorically stuck up her middle finger and said ‘fuck him’ and kept pushing forward with her career. It wasn’t rocket science that, even at sixteen, she didn’t give a shit about what anyone thought of her. Joss had opinions on everything, wasn’t afraid to voice them, and never tried to fit in. She was perfect, even at sixteen.

  But very, very off-limits.

  Josselyn’s show cut off and I heard the ringtone for my boss, Graham Morgan, coming through the earbuds. I swiped the phone and answered, “What’s up, Mr. Morgan?”

  “Don’t give me that Mr. Morgan bullshit, jackass. Want to tell me why I am sitting at a booth at this fucking Lantern place by myself? I thought we were meeting today?” Graham chided. I had known Graham Morgan for a while now. We met in a hotel bar in Vegas. I had stupidly just married Bibi and knew it was a mistake as soon as I said I do. Bibi was out playing it up for the paparazzi and I had needed to get drunk. I sat down and noticed this guy in a suit next to me, texting on his phone but smiling. When I saw the very big tits gracing the screen, I turned away, feeling like I was invading his privacy but knew exactly why he was smiling. When I told the bartender I wanted a Jack and Coke and keep them coming, Graham turned to me and nodded his chin at me in greeting. Then he asked, “Rough night?” And with that one question, a night of conversation followed, ending with a business proposition. Graham Morgan, of Morgan Financial Holdings, had agreed to back my venture into renovating skate parks all over the States.