Heart of Money (Alpha Billionaire Bad Boy Romance Thriller) (5 page)

“I can’t believe how hard I’ve fallen for you.” His voice sounded like music to my ears. We were buzzed off two glasses of wine each and he was stroking my hair by the fireplace. The TV wasn’t even on and I didn’t care. I was never bored with him. The crackling of the wood and the smell of cedar filtered through the room as I turned my head to look at him. Instead of answering, I simply kissed his gorgeous lips.

He returned the kiss with a quick thrash of the tongue into my mouth and I smiled and giggled excitedly before pushing him away, “I’m all sexed out, Mister.” I rolled my eyes at him and thought about it for a moment. I was true, in all honesty. I was
so sore
down there, and I didn’t know if I’d be able to handle any more sex for the next day.

“I’ve got a bit of a surprise for ya tonight, if you’re not sleepy?”

“Well, I am, because it’s eleven o’clock… I’m a ten o’clock kinda girl when I comes to falling asleep. But does it require being wide awake?”

“You can drift through it, so no,” He gave me a warm smile and spoke slowly, continuing to run his fingers through my hair, “I rented out a penthouse restaurant in town. A private dinner for the each of us, three courses. You up for it?”

My eyes widened in unison with my stomach grumbling, and there I was wondering why we hadn’t eaten dinner that night, “Heck yes!” I laughed and kissed him, rubbing my hands over his chiseled stomach as he lightly bit my lip.

“Throw something on that looks casual. It’s normally formal but hell, I rented the place.”

“What are you wearing?”

“We’re in Hawaii baby. Cargo shorts and sandals.”

We got ready in fifteen minutes – scratch that –
I
got ready in fifteen minutes, which is record time for me considering I’m a high maintenance kind of girl. After three minutes Brad was ready, but that wasn’t surprising considering he’s a guy. All he had to do was throw on a pair of shorts, a button up shirt, and slip his feet into some flip flops.

“You done yet?” He asked comically as I rushed to put my earrings in. I hurried down the stairs and he took my hand before opening the front door. The limousine was waiting for us, parked right out front. Its headlights blared off into the darkness and I smiled as the driver opened my door.

“Thank you.”

When we got to the restaurant the streets were mostly empty. The town apparently wasn’t much of a party place and I looked up at the top floor of the ten story building and could see the lights on. Brad led me into the building and we took the elevator to the penthouse restaurant.

Upon being seated by the window I looked out and could see the faint outline of the ocean off in the distance. We ordered crab legs and full lobsters and they were served within ten minutes. Melted butter was spooned onto our plates and I ate ravenously, feeling like a fat girl at heart who didn’t have a care in the world. Desert was served and I picked fried ice cream while Brad went with the forty dollar ‘gourmet banana split’. We laughed and teased one another and when we were done we were heading back to the beach – or so I thought.

Brad’s driver led us further downtown to a hopping part of town and we got out in front of a big club, “I actually am partial owner of this place – it gives me a nice supplemental income.” He said, and I could see why. The place had a line stretching down the street and it appeared to be a mostly late twenties crowd. Lots of high heels and short skirts and there I was dressed in blue jean shorts and tank top.

“So why didn’t you tell me we were going
out out
? I would’ve completely worn something else.”

“We can wear whatever we want here and be treated like
gods
,” Brad said coolly, “Watch this.” The driver double parked the limousine and then hopped out to quickly open our door. Brad stepped out confidently and straightened his shoulders as he walked toward the unassuming crowd. After a few steps, heads began to turn, followed by more heads.

“Oh my
God
.” A shrill female voice rang out as fingers began to thrust towards Brad’s direction. I trailed behind him feeling like a dog with its tail between its legs, unaware of the fact that Brad was somewhat of a celebrity at least in these parts.

“Brad Stone.” A drunken male began to chant, “
Brad Stone, Brad Stone
up in
here
!”

Voices were drowned out by other voices, screams by screams, and laughter and cries filled the air as Brad took my hand confidently and smirked at the swarm of onlookers as we passed through the claustrophobia inducing crowd and walked through the tinted front doors; both bouncers with stern but friendly grins on their faces as they held them open for us.

“Good to see you again Mr. Stone.”

“Indeed.” Brad’s grip loosened on my hand as he pulled a cigar out and lit it calmly, briefly observing the gawking onlookers who sat twirling their drinks

The club was busy, and loud with techno sounding dubstep and people of all ages bouncing their heads to the rhythm while trying not to spill their drinks. Heads turned at the two long bars and we walked with the confident step one has when they seem to be heading somewhere important. I straightened my neck and held my shoulders back, suddenly feeling
cool
for once in my life as Brad led the way to a secluded little alcove in the back corner where a table sat oddly empty.

“You’d think this would be taken, it’s so busy in here.”

“No,” Brad bowed slightly as I took a seat, “It’s always empty unless I’m sitting here. It’s my table.”

“Your table?”

“Yes. I own the club after all, and that’s not all I own in this town.”

“What else?” My eyes widened with interest. I was fascinated by the idea of how seemingly
famous
he was in here in Hawaii, and yet I realized in Los Angeles the only time I’d been out in public with him was when I met him in the bar, so perhaps it was exactly the same there.

“Public wise, I own four restaurants and three other clubs besides this one. Other than that I’ve got ten properties for passive income.”

“So why are you so famous here?”

“Because I’m from California. They see me as some rich Californian playboy. I’m considered
exotic
, as silly as that sounds.”

As the waitress took our drink order I finally began to relax. Slouching back and taking in the sights of everyone dancing, lounging, and generally enjoying themselves, I started feeling confident and happy. Everything was okay – I was just trying to adjust to this rapid change in lifestyle. And then a shrill voice rung out, following a loud gunshot.

“Where’s Brad Stone?”

I recognized the voice, and then another shot rang out which caused me to jump upright in my seat. Brad scurried across the table and shielded me with his large muscular body, and before we had a chance to make another move, Daniel stepped into view. Holding a rifle, he had a sickly twisted grimace and was drenched in sweat. He was wearing tattered blue jeans and a fraying t shirt. The gun shined in his grip and he aimed it slowly for Brad who clenched his jaw in anticipation of the shot. He knew he had a good chance of dying, but he had to let out a final plea before the shot came.

“Spare her. Don’t hurt her, please.” He motioned his head back toward my trembling frame. I wished at that moment that I could’ve busted out from within his shielding body and tackled Daniel, sent him spiraling toward the ground as the gun dropped out of his hand and battered his face in with my fists. But he was a man who was much larger than me, and that was the stuff of fantasy. The cold truth was that he was standing right before us; gun raised and aimed directly at Brad’s chest. The sickened smile twisted even larger around his cheeks, and his eyes blazed with psychotic intensity. A tear fell down his cheek and landed on his lower lip, and sweat had soaked through his t-shirt. His lip quivered slightly, as if he was reconsidering his options. Then his face suddenly hardened and he readjusted his aim on the gun, slightly higher.

He slurred drunkenly, “I have no interest in hurting anyone but you. In fact, before you showed up I was finally adjusting to being fucked over by you. I was getting back on track, getting my anxiety in order, getting new business ventures started. And then…
You had to fucking show up and remind me of the shit I went through
. I’d have been worth
billions
if it weren’t for your backstabbing.”

The shot fired immediately afterwards, and I barely registered it. The next thing I knew I was staring wide eyed from the back seat of an ambulance, not remembering any of the details before Brad was shot.

He was dead, he
had
to be. I remembered feeling his body slam backwards into me from the position he’d been in; crouched down with his back pressed against my front side, his arms stretched wide in a peaceful gesture. Then I heard the blast of the rifle and felt him thump backward; the back of his head smacking against my lip and the taste of blood in my mouth. It was my own blood, but it was merely from a busted lip.

Brad got it worse. I doubled over and held my face in my hands, tears streaming out of my eyes before a small framed paramedic who looked more like a kid playing dress-up rushed over to me.

“Ma’am?” His soft voice tried to sound soothing but his voice had a frantic edge, “Your boyfriend’s in critical condition – he is your boyfriend, right? Anyway, Brad’s on his way to the hospital, which is where we’re going to take you now. I think you may have a concussion.”

My head slowly raised, eyelids stretched apart. It was too painful to speak, but I had to know, “Is he going to live?”

“The gunshot hit him in the shoulder. It was just a few inches above his heart. He’s bleeding a lot, but I think…” He knelt down to a whisper, “I think in my opinion he’s going to be okay, sweetheart.”

“And the man?”

“The man who shot him? He unfortunately wasn’t caught, as far as I’m aware of. Police are scanning the entire area now; it’s turning into a manhunt from what I’ve gathered.”

“Thank you so much doctor.” I said, dazed and weary, my heart thumping out of my chest.

The paramedic blushed, “I’m not a doctor, ma’am, but hopefully one day. Now you just stay calm, okay? We’re going to get you into the hospital now and everything should be
okay
.” He smiled, thin lips giving way to a big toothy grin.

“Thank you.” I repeated slowly.

I was raised onto a stretcher and the ambulance whisked me away. Mind racing, heart pounding, and skin drenched in sweat, all I could think of was my sweetheart. Was he going to be okay?

**

The stitches didn’t hurt badly. They numbed my lower lip and then sewed up the inside. It seems gross to think about now, but at the time I could’ve taken the pain without even being numbed, because I already felt numb. Numb to the world around me, and I knew I would remain that way until I could see Brad. I had to see what his condition was, though a nurse whispered to me in secrecy that he’d been lowered from critical to stable. I breathed a sigh of relief and turned my head wearily, looking out at the night sky. It must’ve been two in the morning, and yet I didn’t feel tired in the sleepy sense whatsoever. My body was still pumping and my mind was racing, though it had calmed slightly. I sat on the edge of the bed and shook my head in disbelief.

Now that I knew Brad was going to be alright, my attention shifted to Daniel. The son of a bitch would get what was coming to him, I just didn’t know how or when. Would the cops catch him? Would Brad and I team up and hunt him down? I managed to giggle softly at the thought; the idea of us as two vigilantes taking down the bad guys. My thoughts were interrupted by a light tap at the door.

My thoughts were interrupted by a light tap at the door. I turned and saw a doctor walking in. He was a tall slender man in his early sixties who wore glasses with circular lenses and looked like he was an ex hippy. He smiled and pulled up a stool.

“I’m Doctor Johnson, and I’ve been treating Brad.”

“How is he?”

“He’s…” A long pause.

“
What
?”

He sighed, “His shoulder is going to need surgery, which we’re doing tonight. It’s going to be a long road to recovery including lots of regular rehabilitation, but we’re confident that we’ll get him back to ninety percent. It could have been a lot worse,” He twirled a pen thoughtfully around his chin and stared off into nothingness, “The man could’ve aimed a little lower and, well… We both know how that would’ve turned out. Nonetheless, Brad is thankfully doing very well. He’s sedated, so he doesn’t know what’s even going on. The surgery should last two hours and after that he’ll be in a cast for about a month to restrict movement. The bullet shattered bits of his bone.”

“Why couldn’t you have just said he’s
okay
to begin with?” I asked angrily, “Why do doctors always seem to try and build up tension? I could’ve had a heart attack.”

Doctor Johnson grinned, “You’re right, I’m sorry. I should’ve begun my speech by telling you simply ‘
he’s fine
’, which he is. You’re very, very lucky, Courtney. The both of you.”