The Billionaire's Dare (Book 4 - Billionaire Bodyguard Series) (16 page)

Hot wind slid through his hair like fingers of molten metal. Not for the first time he silently thanked Trey for moving the family out of the scorching desert and into the Rockies. At first he’d missed the weather, the kind of intense heat that tanned his skin within minutes of exposure and almost hurt to breathe, but this trip reminded him how much he treasured the clean, crisp mountain air. Much better for riding.
And trees.

Damn, he missed the shade. By the time the sale ended, the handlebars of his motorcycle had been so hot he’d needed to wear gloves, sweat making his hands slippery inside the leather casings. He might also be a little concerned about Marissa’s upcoming response to his suggestion.

But he couldn’t leave this town’s fate to Butcher.

All during the sale, people—complete strangers—came up to him asking about the auction. If he planned to stay. If he planned to bid should Butcher slam down a stack of cash for Tate’s property.

Why the house? The mystery gnawed at him. Greenberg, the lawyer, dropped hints to him about what Tate would’ve wanted.

For reasons he had a hard time pinning down, Adam felt he owed these people, the man who’d been a legend here, and Marissa the peace of mind that they wouldn’t fall victim to gang crime again. The scared, hopeful, nervous looks in people’s eyes had latched onto him. He couldn’t shake the sense of responsibility.

He’d created a made-up identity and it haunted him now. He guessed a part of him wanted to play hero. Even though he was the furthest thing from it.

Through the round disks of his rearview mirrors, he noticed two motorcycles on the road following him, gaining on him.

Had Butcher sent his henchmen to chase him down and threaten him?

Best not to do this at the motel, he thought. Too close to precious cargo.

Pulling off into a parking lot alongside a row of stores, he felt a spike of adrenaline careened through his veins.

Just like old times.
He couldn’t help the grin sliding onto his lips.

He parked his Harley off to the side, strode to the center of the lot, crossed his arms and waited for them. He didn’t bother removing his gloves. The extra padding would protect his knuckles, so he didn’t have to explain the bruises to Marissa.

As he predicted, the henchmen rolled up, sandwiching him between their motorcycles. They parked. He took three steps back into a more open space. He needed room to maneuver.

The henchmen left their rides and stalked toward him, menace rolling off, evil in their expressions.

He tossed his hair back and smiled. “Butcher only sent two of you?” He shook his head. “That was his first mistake.”

“You made the mistake,” snarled the scrawny guy missing his two front teeth.

The heavier set dude cracked his meaty knuckles. He wore a folded black bandana around his bald head, soaked with the sour stench of sweat.

Adam inhaled a hot gust of air and exhaled through a smirk. “You didn’t come here to talk. So bring it on.”

A familiar calm came over him, concealing the fiery ball of aggression building deep inside.
He flicked his fingers in a come-get-me invitation.

The chunky guy lunged first. Adam drove his shoulder into the guy’s chest, the tackle sending the man flat on his back. Chunk blinked up, sweat rolling into his eyes before he crouched, lunged again. Adam easily ducked the fist flying at him, spun around and put a choke hold on Chunk.

The man flailed and sputtered, drool sliding down Adam’s forearm. Adam tightened his grip. Chunk elbowed him twice in the ribs. So Adam sent his steel-reinforced boot down hard on the side of the man’s ankle. A sickening crack spit the air. Chunk howled in pain and dropped like a lead balloon, rolling on the ground clutching his shattered ankle.

Adam set his hands at his waist. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Then he heard the unmistakable swish-click of a switchblade. He looked over in time to see Scrawny dive at him with the knife.

A quick sidestep, and he used the guy’s momentum to send him to the ground face first. Turning him over, Adam squashed Scrawny’s wrist under his heel until the man’s hand flexed and released the weapon. He spat curses through his missing front teeth.

Keeping his boot on the guy’s wrist, Adam slid the knife into his back pocket then wedged his knee into Scrawny’s chest, resting all his 220 pounds on the man.

Scrawny gasped and used his free hand to punch Adam in the side. Adam grabbed the guy’s fingers and bent them back at an impossible angle.

“I’d like to see you use your clutch hand now, asshole.” Adam drew the point of the blade along Scrawny’s neck, leaving a faint red line from ear to ear. “This is when I’d throw your in a van and haul losers like you back to jail. But that ain’t happening. So you’d best tell Butcher to stay the fuck out of my way. I’d hate to put more of you out of commission. But if he tries something stupid like this again, I will. Without hesitation.”

Adam stood. Scrawny’s wrist crunched under his boot before he stepped away.

Shaking off the residue of aggression, he strolled to his motorcycle. He heard the creak of leather and the scratch of fast-moving footsteps. Glancing at his mirror, he measured the speed of Scrawny’s approach, saw the wild hatred contorting the man’s face. And he spun just in time to ram his fist into the man’s skull.

In slow motion, Scrawny went airborne before landing in a heap on top of Chunk. Knocked out cold.

Returning to hover over the henchmen, Adam folded his arms. His shadow covered them. He glared at Chunk. “Get your busted asses out of this town. And don’t bother going to the cops.” He pointed at the storefront windows to their right. “Because all those women getting their hair done will vouch it was two against one. I acted in self-defense.”

He glanced up at the wide-eyed women with their faces plastered against the glass of the beauty parlor. A wall of hair curlers and tin foil and gaping mouths.

Adam kissed his gloved fingertips and held them out to the female onlookers. He could almost hear their whispers flying behind cupped hands. He flashed them a winning smile. “Have a nice day, ladies.”

He straddled his motorcycle, started the engine and left Butcher’s henchmen in a cloud of exhaust.

A minute later, clamping the brake, he steered into the motel lot and parked in front of their door. He stripped off his gloves, inspected the knuckles of his right hand and nodded. No visible damage. He strode to the door, letting himself inside. Shoving his sunglasses to the top of his head, he waited for his vision to adjust to the dim room.

Marissa glanced up and closed the photo album in her lap. Beyond her long, dark lashes the skin looked puffy. But her eyes were a clear, deep blue and she smiled. “How did it go?”

“Fine.” He tossed his keys onto the bedside table. “No incidents.” No need to mention the past ten minutes and risk upsetting her.
“Butcher and his crew didn’t even set foot in the house, but they made their presence known all damn day.”

A groove of tension formed between her eyebrows. “How strange.”

“So I’m starting to think it’s not Tate’s stuff they want. It’s the house itself.”

She frowned. “That makes no sense.”

“Tell me about it.” He exhaled and ran his hands through his hair, the strands still hot from the beating sun. “Will you be pissed at me if I want to stay for the auction?”

For a moment her hands tensed on the leather binder, then she set the album aside, the old glue on the pages crackling with the motion. “Funny you should say that. Brittany told me to do the same.”

“Brittany?” He racked his brain. “The bartender at Tate’s?”

She nodded. “Don’t be mad. She came to the motel room. We had kind of a reunion. It was nice,” she whispered, her face softening.

Suspicion lifted the hair on his arms. “Why would she tell you to stay?”

“She thinks she might know someone who can provide the link between Butcher and Grandpa Tate. Something the gang held over him.”

“What’s it about?”

“I have no idea, but she seemed confident she could find out by tomorrow.”

He grunted. “The lawyer laid it on me pretty thick.”

She patted a place on the bed beside her. “How?”

“Using slick words and a guilt trip.”

“Wait.” Her eyebrows lowered. “You aren’t thinking of bidding…are you?”

“Maybe. Hell, I don’t know.” He tugged off his boots, dropped them to the floor, set his elbows on his knees.

“Adam, that’s too much to ask.”

“I’m not saying this town needs me. God knows.” He rolled his eyes and huffed a self-deprecating laugh. “But it sure as shit doesn’t need people like Butcher tearing it apart.”

Lost in her thoughts, she walked a semi-circle around the bed, biting her thumb nail. “I don’t have that kind of money. And how would I get a home loan on such short notice?”

He grabbed her wrist and tugged her back to the bed next to him. “I have the cash, sugar. That’s not the problem. Besides, your name can’t be on any of the paperwork. Nothing can ever be traced back to you.”

She stared at him dumbfounded. “But, why would you buy my grandfather’s house, just to keep it from falling into Butcher’s hands?”

A slow smile crept across his face. “Because I
can.
” The decision settled inside him, and he liked the feeling that came with it. “Shoving that up Butcher’s ass is all the reason I need.” He launched to his feet. “I have to make a call.”

“No, Adam, you can’t—”

“It’s all good.” He kissed her soundly on the lips. “I promise.”

Twenty minutes later he hung up with his broker. “The money’s transferred. Now we wait for the auction tomorrow.” He couldn’t describe the jittery, good feeling inside him. Like he drank too much coffee before going on his favorite roller coaster.

“I don’t feel right about this. You didn’t sign on for this, Adam. I’ve put you in a terrible position. You’re not even related to the man.”

He knelt in front of her and wrapped her cold hands in his warm ones. “Sometimes things are about doing what’s right. I haven’t been in that position many times in my life.”
Or ever.

“But you—”

“This is my choice. I’ve made my decision. Let it go. It’s not about you.”

Hurt pinched the corners of her eyes.

“Okay, it’s not
all
about you. Better?”

“No, nothing about this is good. You shouldn’t take on a responsibility this great. It’s too much.”

“I’m a grown man, Marissa. I’ll figure out what I can or can’t handle.” He grinned. “And right now I can’t handle us being near a bed and you wearing all those clothes.”

Her eyes sparkled, but she pulled her hands from his. “Don’t change the subject. This is serious. Possibly life-changing—”

He cupped her chin. “The only change you need to worry about is how I’m going to get you naked and rock your world.”

She squealed as his lips crushed hers, and the force drove her shoulder blades down to the mattress. He kissed her neck and slid his hand under her top.

He loved the different textures of her skin, every subtle curve and dip of her body. He’d memorized them all yesterday. Now he wanted to explore her even more in depth.

Starting with her mouth.

Something greater than lust, deeper than desire, rolled through him like a dense wave. Sensation didn’t concentrate just in his cock. It spread to every crevice of his body.

He wanted her to understand she was more than a fuck to him. Way more.

Already he felt the intensity building inside him. He wanted to go to places he’d never been with a woman, and take her with him into this unexplored realm. Sex with meaning. He wanted to consume her, and let her consume him, until he didn’t know where he stopped and she started.

“Do I get all of you this time?” she asked in a husky voice that made him rock hard.

“All of me,” he promised in a heated whisper.

She raked his shirt up over his head, lightly scraping his back with her nails. He shivered and sucked her lower lip into his mouth, flicking it with the tip of his tongue.

The blood thickened in his veins as he peeled off her clothes one piece at a time, losing himself in the seduction. He left her panties on for now, absorbed in the brush and glide of skin against skin.

Sweeping his tongue into her mouth, he savored her sweet taste.

The reins on his lust began to loosen. His hips rocked against hers. This was why he hadn’t kissed her last night. He couldn’t have held back and made it about her pleasure. But he refused to lose control now. He had plans for her.

Straightening his arms, he grinned down at her. “I’ve got an idea. Wait right there.”

As he left the bed, she rolled to her side, propping her chin in her hand. “I wouldn’t dream of going anywhere.”

The sight of her mostly naked, lounging like a lingerie model—and all
his
—unleashed a powerful hunger inside him. He tamped it down and went to the air conditioner, snapping it off.

Confusion touched her delicate features.