Complete We (A Her Billionaires Novella #4) (13 page)

Josie swallowed, hard, and said, “You know Alex and I would raise her. If you…you know.”

“Died?”

“If you wanted me to raise her,” Josie said, clearing her throat gently. Tears sprang in her eyes, surprising her. In that moment her heart felt too tight and too big all at once, like it was being squeezed and peeled open at the same time. She didn’t like thinking about her best friend being dead. But she also realized that her offer was a sign of progress, too.

She and Alex, acting as parents…

“I love you,” Laura said sweetly through the phone, her voice shaking slightly. “I know what it means to have you make that offer.”

“But you don’t think I’m capable of raising a potted plastic plant, much less your child,” Josie said, a joke in her voice.

“Ha ha. No, it’s that you’re not a blood relative. To any of us. Frank, Dylan’s parents, even Mike’s parents, have more legal claim than you.”

“Not fair.”

“I know,” Laura sighed.

And then it hit Josie. “I think I know a way you can get the highest degree of legal protection for Jillian. And keep her and your future children together in case you and one of the guys dies.”

“How?” Laura’s eager voice made Josie’s heart flail in her chest.

“Have them get married.”

“Them? Who—oh. Oh, God…no. Josie, no.” A series of weird gasps and groans, chokes and sputtering noises filled Josie’s ear. Had Jillian wrestled the phone from Laura?

“Laura?” she asked.

A great whoop of laughter was her reply.

“Josie! Oh, oh, oh you’re crazy! Mike and Dylan get
married
?”

“Why not?” she answered, a defensive tone in her voice. “It’s legal in Massachusetts. And then each guy would be the legal stepfather to the other’s kids.”

The laughter stopped abruptly.

“You sure about that?”

“Um, pretty much. That’s how it works in hetero marriage, right?”

Laura went quiet. Josie’s brain raced. Maybe this could work. Perhaps this was the answer.

“I don’t know,” Laura said, voice filled with skepticism. “But I do know the number for the lawyer we used for the wills and trusts. I think it’s time for a brief consultation.”

“Just do me one favor,” Josie begged.

“What?”

“Don’t tell them this was my idea.”

Laura sucked in a sharp dose of air, the sound splitting Josie’s eardrum. “Right. Dylan will shit a brick if you bring this up.”

“I think he could shit enough to build a tornado shelter with this idea. Then again, it’ll be pretty obvious it was my idea, so forget what I said. I’ll take the hit.”

Laura looked like she was a million miles away. “I still wish I would have them both.”

“You
do
have them both,” Josie said in a soothing tone. Funny how she couldn’t care less about being married to Alex. The institution itself didn’t seem to matter to her. If they were together, it was enough, and she didn’t need a piece of paper to prove it.

Yet…when she put herself in Laura’s shoes, and imagined being told she couldn’t marry the person(s) she loved, a fireball of resentment and sorrow filled her.

“If they marry each other it’s to show that what all three of you created is so real they have to find a crazy legal maneuver to protect it.”

“That’s one angle I hadn’t thought of.” Laura’s voice turned from despondent to pensive.

“In the end, it’s all about love,” Josie said, feeling like a Hallmark card.

“Love. Right.” Laura made a dismissive noise. “Then why is this so hard?”

“Because love is never enough.”

“Thanks, Ms. Merry Sunshine.”

Josie smiled even though Laura couldn’t see it. “I don’t mean that love isn’t amazing. Just that it’s work. Hard work. And when you do the hard work together, you create even more love.”

Laura went silent. Seconds ticked by, making Josie wonder if she’d said the wrong thing.

A long exhale, and then:

“The Beatles had it wrong.”

“Can we go anywhere
but
Jeddy’s for once?” Alex asked in a voice that brooked no argument. “I do not relish hearing Madge talk about the latest unicorn butt plug she bought.”

“How about we just talk while we lift? Blow out our bodies then hang in the sauna?” Dylan answered as he finished putting forty-fives on the olympic bar, locking in a good three hundred pounds for squats. To start.

“They have a killer smoothie bar here, too,” Mike added.

“What about an espresso bar?” Alex asked.

Dylan forced himself to take a deep, invigorating breath. Nothing like being in a gym to give you the feeling like you were swimming through testosterone soup. He considered himself a fairly strong guy, but felt like a wimp as he took a good look around the room.

He was smack-dab average.

“You need protein and amino acids after you blow out your quads, dude,” Mike said, wiping his face with a hand towel. He’d looked like he’d just gone for a five-mile sprint in the rain, and his biceps bulged, veins like extension cords slid under tanned skin.

“And caffeine,” Alex answered mildly.

Dylan laughed. “Last thing you want after you puke your guts out from doing squats is caffeine.”

Alex began to fidget nervously, making Dylan laugh inside. Laura and Josie joked about Dr. Perfect and how unflappable he was. Good to see the man could be rattled.

Without having to run into a parking sign to do it.

The scar above Alex’s eye was mild, but Dylan could find it easily, and as Mike eased into the squat cage, Alex spotting him, Dylan marveled at how different life was now for everyone.

Every damn one of them.

Including Frank.

Mike made it through seven squats before Dylan and Alex helped lift the bar for him. Alex took some of the weight off and did his own lunges, making it through three sets of increasing weight, though never reaching Mike’s power.

Dylan, on the other hand, blew Mike out of the water.

“How in the hell does he
do
that?” Dylan heard Alex’s voice rise with surprise.

“He eats his Wheaties,” Mike joked. Dylan was shorter than Mike but came damn close to matching him in weight, muscled body holding so much restrained molecular power. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t grin—as much as he wanted to—but instead popped back up to rack the bar and move slowly until the black pinpricks left his vision.

The adrenaline rush was worth it.

Gotta love endorphins. Even the ones that didn’t involve sex.

But
especially
the ones that
did
involve sex.

Guzzling half his bottle of water, Dylan took in the room while Mike racked weights for Alex, who had something to prove.

“You okay, doc?” Dylan joked. “Don’t want you to tear a nail on those surgeon’s hands.” He actually liked Alex. Stand-up guy. But he had to bust his balls a little, right? The three of them spent so much time chatting at Jeddy’s and being directed by women that it was good to be in a man’s world (female lifters excepted). Even just for a few hours.

“You’re the one who was a model, Dylan,” Alex said in a low voice as he bent down in the squat cage, squaring his shoulders under the bar and wrapping his wrists up to put his palms, then fingers, on the gnarled metal. “You know more about buffed nails and body paint than I do.”

Mike’s howl of laughter seemed to fuel Alex, and damn if the guy didn’t come a little too close for comfort to Dylan’s highest weight and rep set. Shit. He needed to up his game and lift more.

Staggering out of the cage after two sets and a failed rep that required Mike and Dylan to grab the pole, Alex looked purple. Little broken blood vessels around his eyes told Dylan the guy had been saving face. Ah, damn.

“You pushed too hard,” Mike said quietly, careful not to let any of the other lifters in the gym hear.

Alex nodded as he sucked down water Mike had mixed with an electrolyte solution. “I know. Stupid,” he added, shaking his head. “But look who I’m lifting with.”

Mike and Dylan nodded. They got it.

You had to at least try.

They grabbed their car keys and phones from the little cubbies in the free-weight room. The walk to the smoothie bar made Dylan feel like he was marching on down-filled pillows, the push of blood to the surface of his skin such a fucking awesome rush. He could forget about anything in those moments of extraordinary strength.

Anything except Frank.

Smoothies ordered, the trio drank more water and rested on barstools at the juice counter.

Bzzz
. Alex jumped and felt his own ass like a man going off to prison and touching a woman for the last time in his life. Frantic and weirdly rushed.

“What the fuck?” a disembodied man’s voice muttered.

“Is that me?” Alex hissed. “I’m on call for a case.”

“Me,” Dylan said, grabbing his phone. A swipe and—score!

“Nick’s report!” Dylan crowed as a tray filled with large shake glasses teeming with greenish-grey sludge was delivered to them.

“What’s in there?” Alex asked Mike as Dylan read the email from the private investigator:

Dylan,

See attached.

Nick

“Talkative guy,” Mike mumbled as Dylan opened the PDF, turning his phone sideways so they could read the tiny print a little bit better.

The report was astounding. Arrest records in one, two, three—Dylan couldn’t keep up—states, all for fraud or larceny or petty theft. Most involved cons, which didn’t surprise him. Frank set up fake charities and scammed people. Frank trained a fleet of kids to steal dogs and waited for the owners to post a reward and brought them back, caught only when one of the kids stole the same dog twice and Frank showed up again for a reward.

And then—

Mike’s low whistle pierced the juice counter’s sitting area. “He defrauded an heiress?”

“Don’t forget the DUIs,” Alex added, pointing to the screen. “In one…two…three different states?”

“You would never guess,” Dylan said, handing off the phone to Mike and drinking half his smoothie in one series of gulps. The cold, slightly chalky drink made him crave coffee suddenly.

Damn Alex. He was right.

“What do you mean?” Alex asked Dylan, mesmerized by what he was reading on the phone’s screen.

“Frank. He’s so…slick. Smooth. Like a well-preserved middle-aged man. More George Clooney than Bernie Madoff, you know?”

“Bernie Madoff was pretty damn slick, too. Fooled a lot of smart people,” Mike said.

“True. Frank’s just—he seems above a DUI. Or stealing dogs.” Dylan shook his head. “Who the hell steals someone’s dog for money?”

“The same kind of guy who sniffs out his niece after she’s settled into a great life with two billionaires,” Alex pointed out.

Dylan felt like a balloon with a slow leak.

“At least we know now,” Mike added. He pointed to the phone. “We need to print that out and study it. I’ll bring it to our lawyer and get his opinion. And we need to talk to Laura about it.”

“No!” Dylan could imagine it all seven steps ahead, how Laura would freak out, the way she’d feel guilty again, then angry, how this information would give them a leg up when it came to dealing with Frank but, really, no new answers. They’d suspected Frank was a slimeball. Nick’s report confirmed it.

“Why not?” Mike and Alex asked in unison.

“Is there anything violent in there?” he asked  rhetorically. Mike shook his head. “Nothing about kids?”

“Other than acting like Fagin from Oliver Twist and gathering a bunch of street urchins to go out and steal people’s dogs, no,” Alex said, scrolling through the report.

“Good. Then he’s just a garden-variety con man. He doesn’t want custody of Jillie. He wants money. He can threaten and cajole, tease and manipulate, and mindfuck Laura, but he can’t really do anything.”

Mike looked at him, jaw tight. “Good points.”

“Frank is the kind of guy who gets other people to do his bidding for him. He comes in for the kill when it suits him, and he’s looking for easy pickings. He’s not going to sweat. He’s not going to push and persevere. Once things get difficult, he’s outta there. Look,” Dylan said, taking the phone from Alex, “at what he’s actually done. He finds a way to prey on other people’s emotions and then gets what he can when they’re weak.”

“We’re not weak,” Mike protested.

“But Laura is,” Dylan explained. “She’s a lot stronger than she was years ago, but Frank has this ability to find some sweet part of her that wants to be good, and liked, and loved. And he plucks it like a banjo, damn it.”

“You’re right,” Mike said, clearly hating that it was true.

“Then you need to figure out his weakness, and his price. Pair them together,” Alex declared.