Billionaire Romance Box Set: The Billionaire's Legacy: An Alpha Billionaire Romance Box Set Page 16

  “I can do other things, too,” I said, twisting my body to lift my chest and accentuate my breasts.

  My captor rolled his eyes. “Shut the fuck up,” he said. He shook his head at his companion. “Fucking bitch can’t shut up.”

  “Have you gotten any word from the boss?” the driver said. I keyed into each word.

  “Yeah, he said to hold tight.” He glanced at me and I looked away quickly, trying to pretend I was out of ear shot. “He said everything is under control. The weapons were where they were supposed to be.”

  “Fuckin’ A, man,” the driver grinned, but his smile slowly faded at the look my captor gave him. “Sorry,” he said, recovering his serious stance.

  “Overconfidence gets you killed,” my captor said. “Pay attention, and don’t forget that you can’t take your eyes off the ball for even a micro second. If you do, it’s lights out for all of us.”

  I kept my eyes closed, listening. I was learning more about them than they could ever know. I just needed to file that information away and find ways to use it to keep myself alive.

  I think I faded out for a few hours. That was what I did now, faded out rather than slept. Disassociated instead of zoned. When I came back to awareness, my captor was gone for the first time. I knew he couldn’t be too far away because the driver was at the table, still, or perhaps returned, and my captor wouldn’t go far; he didn’t trust the driver.

  “Could I have some water?” I asked quietly. I’d read enough hostage negotiations and been in various newsrooms when negotiations were taking place to know at least the basics, which were pretty common sense anyway. Get your captors to see you as a human being. The way to get them to see you as a human being was to have base, human needs. Water. Food. A bathroom. Be modest. Be respectful.

  He looked at me for a moment, then looked away. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said. He jerked his head toward the door. “You know.”

  “Yeah,” I said, adjusting my tone to show that I was commiserating with his situation, having to deal with an unpredictable, asshole of a boss. “Yeah, I hear you. That’s okay, I don’t want you to get into any trouble.” I turned my head away as if the conversation was over, closing one eye but keeping the other lightly open.

  For a few moments, he didn’t move. He was watching me, trying to figure out if I was faking, maybe assessing his options. I waited. After a minute, he stood up, the chair scraping across the floor a few inches. I closed my eyes. I heard him open a cabinet. Water running. Then, a moment later, I heard the sound of glass on wood as he set my water near my hip.

  I opened my eyes, kept them trained on the floor. “Thank you,” I whispered. “I won’t tell.” My hands were still cuffed behind my back, but the driver had set the glass close enough that I was able to put my mouth against the rim and tilt it toward my face. My body screamed out for the water and it took all of my self control to not try to gulp the glass, which would have tipped it over and I’d have ended up with nothing. I sipped the water I could until I couldn’t get any more.

  I could feel the driver’s eyes on me. Maybe expecting me to complain, to beg, to do something other than drink my water. I stopped, though my body was crying out for hydration, and I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes.

  Once again, I heard the chair scrape across the floor. A moment later, the glass was removed and taken back to the sink. I watched him as he sat back down at the table and took out his phone.

  “He took you because he’s tying to smoke out your boyfriend,” he said suddenly, not looking up from his phone. I tried to hide the tremor in my voice as I formulated my response. Speaking to me directly meant that he was, at least for the moment, seeing me as a human being.

  “What does he want from Brad?”

  The driver shrugged. “Not my job to know. But it’s no use trying to hide how rich he is. He knows he’s a billionaire.” The driver’s voice was slightly muffled through the side of his hoodie. I tried to imagine what he looked like. His accent was muddled, a mix of French with possibly Moroccan. He could very well be a local.

  “I figured. If it’s money that he wants, Brad will pay it. Easily. He’ll pay as much as he wants.”

  The diver was silent.

  The door opened and my captor came back in, striding fast, slamming his phone down on the table. Something was wrong.

  “Get up,” he said to the driver. “We have to talk outside. Away from that.” He nodded toward me. That. Not a human.

  The driver didn’t argue, just stood up immediately and followed my captor out the door. Something was happening.

  Brad

  I stared into my coffee without really seeing it. I had gotten virtually no sleep the night before, so I was exhausted; still, my mind was racing. I couldn’t figure out what had triggered Manuel Brown to kidnap Cassie. I’d run through every detail, finally coming to the conclusion that Manuel Brown didn’t need a logical reason to do anything.

  But that wasn’t it. Manuel Brown was a lunatic, but he was a controlled one. He was well-protected, and he hadn’t gotten to where he was in his life by taking stupid risks, like kidnapping someone who was being tailed by one of my men and talked to by the police.

  But, if not Manuel Brown, then who?

  To make matters more complicated, I still hadn’t heard from Simon. He had been, technically, missing for as long as Cassie. Perhaps even longer. Perhaps whoever had kidnapped Cassie had taken care of Simon first in order to get at her.

  I paced around the restaurant, which had been closed and overtaken by the NCA. All around me were the sounds of what I hoped was progress. Walkie talkies going off, fingers clacking on keyboards, agents on cell phones taking notes.

  I swallowed hard, resisting the urge for the millionth time to go running over to Patrick and tell him that I knew who had Cassie. I had a name. I had some possible locations for Manuel Brown. But, I knew that, though I would gain Cassie back in the short term, all I would be doing was exposing the entire project and labeling myself as a rat to Manuel Brown. That would mean death for everyone involved—Antoine, Simon, Cassie, and me. No, I had to wait for the NCA to put everything together on their own… then at least I could speak the truth when it came time to face Manuel Brown and his men.

  “Morning,” Patrick said grimly, sidling up next to me with his own coffee.

  “Morning,” I said. “No news?”

  “Nothing concrete. Not yet.” He was about to open his mouth to say something else, when a young agent, a woman in her early twenties, came running over with a piece of paper.

  “Agent Shim! We got a lead. Here!” She held out the paper and Patrick grabbed it from her hand, skimmed it quickly, then nodded.

  “Good work, Tessler.” Then, to me, “Let’s go. I’ll explain on the way.”

  My heart pounded loudly in my chest as I realized progress was both good and scary; getting Cassie back could mean even more danger down the line. We raced out to Patrick’s rental car and drove out of the parking lot.

  “Apparently, Cassie may have been the victim of mistaken identity,” Patrick said. “There’s a local cell of infidels who are engaging in terroristic activity. They’re looking for arms, big time, and they seem to think that Cassie may be connected to an arms dealer.” He glanced over at me. “You don’t know anything about that, do you?”

  I was silent, my mind still focused on the words ‘local cell of infidels.’ That wasn’t Manuel Brown. His men were all sophisticated, white collar people like myself. Confusion must have shown on my face, because Patrick continued.

  “You know that anything you say to me can be used against you; that’s my job. But, morally, if you have anything you need to tell me about Cassie…”

  “I don’t know who has her,” I said sharply. “Obviously.”

  “Of course,” Patrick said. We drove quickly along the city streets. Soon, the buildings became fewer and further between as we moved out of the city and into the country. My phone rang. I
looked at the caller ID. Simon!

  “Simon!” I exclaimed. “Are you all right?”

  “I am now,” Simon said. “Is Cassie all right? Is she with you?”

  I winced. “She’s not,” I said.

  “Damn,” he whispered. “They got her.”

  “Who’s they?” I said. I debated putting Simon on speaker, but decided against it.

  “It’s not Manuel Brown, Brad. It’s someone else. I don’t know who, but I saw her get taken and it wasn’t Manuel’s MO.”

  “You saw her get taken?” I could hear the rage in my voice. Patrick pulled over.

  “I saw her get taken, and then I got thwacked in the head and I woke up in the hospital. That’s where I am now.”

  “Shit, man, okay. I’m glad you’re okay. Can we come and get you? Patrick will need to hear exactly what you saw.”

  “Yes, come and get me. St. Francis Hospital. And, I think we should contact Manuel Brown. He has a vested interest in this if they have Cassie. He has the resources to get her back.”

  “Um,” I said, glancing over at Patrick. He was listening keenly to my side of the conversation. “Um, I’m not sure that’s advisable, actually, at this time…”

  “The entire project is at risk, catastrophic risk, until she’s found. You know that.”

  I thought quickly, exploring both possibilities, the outcomes of what could happen if I contacted him and if I didn’t.

  “You may be right,” I said slowly. “When we pick you up, we can discuss it.”

  “Time is of the essence,” Simon said. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that.”

  I closed my eyes and felt my jaw clench with tension. “Call his people,” I said. “Just do it now.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Simon said, the sound of approval loud and clear in his voice.

  I hung up the phone and looked at Patrick. He signaled and pulled back onto the road.

  “What hospital are we going to?” he asked. “And who are you having him call?”

  I kept all of my information about Simon close to the vest. Especially with the new information that Manuel Brown might not be at the source of Cassie’s abduction, I needed to make sure I knew the consequences of each move before I made it.

  “St. Francis,” I said. “Do you know where that is?” Patrick nodded as he plugged it into his GPS. “And never mind on the other question. I’ll let Simon fill you in.”

  I would, of course, do no such thing. My hope was that by the time we got to the hospital and Patrick saw Simon, he would be more interested in what Simon had to say about Cassie’s abduction and his attack than in who we were planning to call.

  I exhaled as I pushed stress out of my body; I wouldn’t be able to rest until I knew Cassie was back at the Legacy safe and sound.

  Cassie

  I heard, rather than saw, my rescue. After finding out that the driver had given me water, my captor decided I was too dangerous to be in possession of all of my senses, so he blindfolded me. I fought it, of course, but struggling against the handcuffs binding my wrists only strained my already exhausted body. I was almost certain I’d torn my rotator cuff.

  I was lying against the wall listening to the sounds around me when I heard a car engine. Immediately afterward, I heard two chairs scrape across the floor, so I knew my captors had also heard it. The sound of metal as guns were drawn. I swallowed hard, feeling the chalky dryness of my throat clicking with the sensation of swallowing. My heart pounded in my ears and I struggled between trying to sit up and trying to shrink myself down.

  The door opened and there were screams, one, two, three men, maybe more, and shots were fired. I held my breath as time seemed to both slow down and speed up around me. I didn’t scream… or maybe I did.

  Suddenly, there was silence. The sound of my heartbeat was the loudest thing in my ears, and then I felt arms around me, yanking me up sharply.

  “Handcuffs!” I moaned, feeling my shoulders straining.

  “Fuck!” I heard a man’s voice and relief washed over me.

  “Brad?” I said, my voice suddenly shrill. “Brad??”

  “It’s me, baby, I’ve got you.” He pressed down on me and yelled over his shoulder to someone else to “find the keys! Let’s get her out of here!”

  A moment later, my arms were released and the blindfold pulled off. I winced as I felt the tremendous pain shoot through my arms, but Brad filled my vision and I smiled, tears streaming down my cheeks.

  “How did you find me?” I asked.

  “I’m so glad you’re okay,” he pushed out in a huge sigh of relief. “Don’t worry about how I found you; I did. I wasn’t ever going to stop looking.”

  He picked me up and carried me to the door. I tried to ignore the bodies on the floor: two men, their hoods finally removed. They were younger than I’d thought, though not young per say. I wondered which had been my abductor… and which had been the man to show me some kindness.

  ***

  A few hours later, after I’d been checked out by the hospital and released ‘in remarkable condition considering,” I found myself back in the Moroccan Legacy suite I shared with Brad. He’d made me some soup, recommended by the hospital to assist in rehydrating me without stressing out my stomach.

  “Your passport,” he said, reaching into his breast pocket and handing me the blue book. I smiled.

  “Well, if I’d known all I needed to do to get things moving was to get kidnapped…” I joked, but my voice was weak. Maybe too soon.

  “I will never leave you again,” Brad said. He leaned in and kissed me. His lips on mine sent waves of healing energy through me. My heart beat faster for a good reason, finally, and I crawled into his lap and into his arms.

  “Hold me forever,” I whispered. I pressed the bridge of my nose against his neck, snuggling in as close as I could. He slid his arm around me, his forearm grazing my breast. I felt a tinge of arousal as he did, and I nuzzled in deeper. I dropped my hand to his thigh and slowly explored; he was hard, his cock pressing against his jeans.

  “Hey now,” he said. “You’re teasing me, and you’re in no condition to be doing such a thing.”

  “I’ll be the judge of my condition, thank you,” I said coyly. The truth was, he was probably right. The screaming in my muscles suggested that I should be soaking in an Epsom salt bath and doing little else for the next few days.

  However, any woman who has ever been rescued by her man in a hail of gunfire will know exactly how I was also feeling. I was carnally horny.

  I ignored the sensations in my muscles as I twisted my body and climbed on top of Brad. I sat back, straddling him, as he wordlessly took off his suit coat. I pushed him back and unbuttoned his dress shirt one button at a time, locked with him eye to eye. I could see him trying to fight the urge to overtake me, to control me. He was still not used to passing over control to anyone, and I knew this was against all of the instincts that had gotten him to the status of being a world known billionaire.

  I didn’t care.

  I shifted out of my yoga pants and pulled his dress pants down, dropping them on the floor beside the couch. He arched an eyebrow at me, and I arched mine right back. You have something to say? my look said. I tore my eyes away from his to look at his cock, huge and glorious in front of me, quivering, the tip wet with anticipation. I leaned in and took him into my mouth, sliding my lips up his shaft all the way to its base. I bobbed my head forward and back, my lips in a vacuum against the skin of his shaft. I felt his cock pulsing in my mouth, and I brought my hands to his body, cupping his sack with one hand. His balls were hot and hard in my hand, the skin stretching tightly with his arousal.

  He moaned, and I quickened my pace, my mouth moving fast and smooth as I changed my tongue to my hand around his shaft, and began to swirl my tongue around the tip of his cock. I lapped up the bits of pre-cum and I looked up at him. I flipped my hair over my shoulder so he had an unobstructed view of my mouth on his manhood.

  He looked down an
d I saw his eyes roll as the pleasure of my tongue overtook his ability to speak. I flicked my tongue along the underside of his cock, twisting his shaft gently with my hand and squeezed the underside of his sack—and felt him almost immediately explode in my mouth. I drank his cum hungrily, sucking up every last drop before lightly releasing my grip to let him recover.

  I laid next to him and he stroked my breast under my shirt. We stayed like that for almost an hour. I was nearly sleeping against his warm body, being lulled by the beating of his heart, when he leaned in toward me and kissed me. He began to pull at me, his strong hands around my ribs, guiding me back on top of him.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “I don’t want to crush you,” he explained. “Plus, I know how much you like to be in charge.” He said it in a teasing tone that let me know that he was, in no uncertain terms, allowing me to play the leader for the night.

  “I do like to be in charge,” I said. Even though I should have been exhausted, I felt re-energized by the feeling of Brad under my hips. He was hard again, ready to go, and I positioned myself over him and then dropped myself down on to his cock, impaling myself and causing him to gasp, his eyes wide and alert.

  “Fuck!” he breathed, and he grabbed my hips and began to drive me back and forth. I let him, feeling his rhythm and capturing it as my clit pressed against his pubic bone, each thrust bringing me closer to my own climax. “You’re so wet!” he whispered, his eyes closed. “So wet, so hot…”

  I could feel the heat steadily rising within me, but something else, too: it was as though my body was celebrating being free from my captors. Celebrating being alive. My orgasm exploded and I felt wetness flow out of me as I cried out, energy pushing through every cell, every pore. My vision blurred and the only thing I could see was Brad, looking up at me as he came, holding me hard by my hips so he didn’t buck me off of him.

  After, we made our way to the bed so we could stretch out. He laid on his back and I laid on my side facing him, spooning his hip. My hand on his chest, I ran my fingers across the tight, smooth skin that covered his pecs.