MC Romance: Ride of Their Lives (BBW, Military Romance, Alpha Male) (Bad Boy Motorcycle Club Romance Book 1) (15 page)

“I’m a traveling entrepreneur. I find investors that provide financial support for companies all over the world. Monaco is overflowing with potential investors.”

“This is true.” He pursed his lips. “I don’t like Americans. You always bring trouble.”

“I promise,” Lydia smiled. “I’m the furthest thing from trouble.”

His eyes narrowed. Lydia watched the hazel eyes beside her flit back and forth between her own and Renaldo’s.

“We shall see.” He moved to step away but turned back. “Travis, you keep an eye on this one.”

Lydia stood in shock as the great beast of a man walked away.

She turned to Travis.

“What did I do to piss him off?” she asked.

He was laughing. “You showed up.”

If there was anything positive about the encounter it was that it had initiated a conversation with Travis Larkin about his potential contributions to not one, but two, of her current clients. They had agreed to meet the following day at a nearby restaurant to discuss further details.

Lydia had gone to bed so excited about the prospect of multiple investments that she had thoroughly put Renaldo Jaquiennes from her mind.

The following afternoon, Lydia entered the quaint bistro and joined Travis Larkin at the intimate table at which he waited.

He was more attractive than she had realized the night before. He was clean cut but had rugged features. His eyes looked greener in the daylight but the inner line around the pupil remained flecked with blues and greys. He was tall, muscular, and of course there was the sexy drawl of an accent.

She pulled a leather binder from her purse and set it on the table between them. She had gone over the figures and was ready to present this man with an offer that he could not refuse. The profit margin was the best that he could hope for in the current market. It was practically a sure thing, very little risk, very high return on investment.

When she began to open the binder Travis laid his hand on top of it, stopping her.

“You need to leave Monaco.” He informed her in hushed tones.

“Excuse me?” she laughed. Was he joking with her?

“I’m serious.” Travis leaned forward and whispered so softly that she could not even be sure she had heard him correctly. “There are people that want you dead. They think you are someone else, a threat, and they will not allow you to stay here.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Why would I be a threat?” She asked. “Let me speak with them and it can all be cleared up. If anything, I might be able to help them make more money.”

“They aren’t going to talk to you, they are going to kill you. Do you think this is a joke?” He was clearly agitated.

She sighed. “Let’s for a moment, pretend that what you say is true.” She crossed her hands over the binder. “What would make these people want to kill me, or, whoever they think I am?”

“They think you’re a spy, an American agent sent to ruin them.”

“First off, what would I be spying on them for? Secondly, if I were an agent, why would I be acting as myself?” This was all rather funny to Lydia. Clearly this man had lost touch with reality. She realized that this entire meeting was a waste of time. He was not taking her seriously and there would be no investment.

“The what-if’s aren’t important. What matters is what they believe. Renaldo Jaquiennes decided last night that you were trouble. That is enough to put a price on your head.” He placed a hand over her own. “Please, leave Monaco.”

“This is absolutely ridiculous.” She pulled her hand out from under his and shoved her binder in her purse. She threw the strap over her shoulder and stood to leave when Travis sprung at her and tackled her to the ground.

The large window front, beside which they had been seated, exploded as gunfire from the street peppered the bistro. Patrons ran screaming from the store, some clutching at their wounded bodies.

Travis was sprawled on top of her, his body covering her own. He lifted his head an inch to look into her eyes.

“Do you believe me now?”

Lydia nodded. Her entire body was shaking. She could feel the sting of the glass shards as they cut into her arms.

“We have to get out of here, are you ready?”

“Who are you?” she cut off his questions with her own. She was not going anywhere with this man until she knew who he was.

“I’m a gambler, who wins money for Renaldo. But, right now, I’m just a man trying not to get killed.” Lydia searched his face but could find no sign of artifice. “We need to go.”

“Alright.” He rolled off of her and stood in the center of the demolished bistro. He offered her a hand to pull herself up with. “Are you crazy? What are you doing? Get down here!” 

“The shooter is gone.” He informed. “That was only meant to scare you.”

Lydia heard sirens in the distance.

He offered his hand once again.

“We need to leave before the police arrive.”

With the hope that she was making the right decision, Lydia placed her hand in his and allowed him to lead her from the wreckage.

“I need to go get my luggage.” Lydia broke the silence that filled the black sedan which Travis was maneuvering with careful precision through the crowded streets.

“You can get new luggage.” He replied as if it were only that simple.

“You don’t understand.” Lydia crossed her arms. “My entire life is in those bags. Every worldly possession that I own fits into four suitcases. I need them.”

He dropped his head back and sighed at the smooth ceiling of the vehicle.

“You have four suitcases?” his tone suggested that he found this entire situation to be a great test of will.

“Yes.” She waited.

He ran a hand over his face as he thought about her answer.

“Do you need all of them?”

Lydia gritted her teeth. One suitcase was full of all of her most treasured and useful items. The other three contained her entire wardrobe.

“I could manage with two.” She hated the idea of leaving behind half of her belongings. She reminded herself that she could always have the hotel forward the spare luggage to her sister in Vermont.

“One.” He instructed. “The rest you can arrange to have sent to another hotel somewhere far away. Don’t send them to anyone or any place that is connected with you. Renaldo will have them followed.”

It was becoming more apparent by the minute that Lydia would be lost without the help of this stranger. She did not want to think about what would have happened if Renaldo’s men had followed her bags to her sister’s isolated, country home. 

Travis cruised by the hotel without stopping.

“That was the building, you missed it.” She informed him, looking for a place where he might be able to turn around in the chaotic traffic of this densely populated streets.

“I didn’t miss it.” He continued to watch the road as he spoke. “Two of Renaldo’s men were waiting outside of the main entrance. I guarantee that there are more already in your room.” Travis paused at a stop light and turned toward her. His eyes, more than anything else, conveyed how serious he was taking the situation. “You can buy new clothing.”

Lydia began to protest when the door beside her was thrust open and a tall man in a charcoal gray suit leaned down to speak with her. He was standing in the middle of the street, speaking as if this were the most natural place to be having a conversation.

“Miss Berkshire,” he grasped her arm with a force that caused fear to pulse through her veins, “You’ll need to come with me.” Lydia sat frozen. Sheer panic kept her body immobile. It was at that moment, as the man leaned forward, in an attempt to undo her seat belt, that he noticed Travis in the driver seat.

“Larkin.” He hissed, his French accent making the brusque English nearly incomprehensible. “What are you doing?”

“I’m taking her to Renaldo.” Travis replied with easy confidence. All the air expelled from Lydia’s lungs. She felt the tremors ripple through her body and any form of coherent thought was replaced with complete terror.

“Good.” The man released his hold. “We’ll go together.”

Before he had a chance to shut the door and climb into the back seat of the sedan, Travis had pushed the gas pedal to the floor, jerked the wheels into a sharp turn, and launched them directly into the flow of traffic. Lydia had been in the process of turning to look back at the stranger left standing in the intersection when Travis grabbed the back of her head and pushed it down against her knees. Seconds later the rear window exploded.

Lydia heard screaming. She was fairly certain that it was coming from her.

Forty-five minutes later they were checking in to a small hotel on the opposite side of the city. Lydia held the small duffle bag of clothing, which Travis had acquired for her, to her chest. She had been too shaken to enter the shop. That, in combination with the tiny shards of glass that still stuck to her skin from the bistro window, made it too risky for her to enter a public venue.

“I think we’re being followed.” She worried.

“We were.” He shut the door and slid the chain in place. “Not anymore.”

This room was nothing like the elegant suite that she had rented in the upscale hotel just down the road from the Monte Carlo. It was clean and functional, but that was all the positives that she could come up with. The room was small, dimly lit, and of the mediocre price range of what she liked to call budget-travelers. Not that Lydia was frivolous with her money, but these places were her temporary home and she generally liked them to have a more comfortable feel.

“I don’t want to be on the run.” She blurted. “Why can’t I just leave and go back to my life as if this never happened?”

“Because those men have hands that reach all the way across the world. They won’t stop searching just because you left the country. You won’t be safe until they are stopped.”

“And how long might that be?” She could hear the resignation in her own voice. She had no experience with violent people. She did not know how to function in this questionable world.

“Not long. They know that the Americans have been on to them for a while. It’s only a matter of time before they are caught.”

Lydia did not like the vague answers that he kept providing.

“What is it that they actually do?” she asked. If she was going to be blamed for spying on these criminals she at least wanted to know what it was that they were being accused of. What kind of scum were unscrupulous enough to make attempts on the life of an innocent woman?

Travis stared at her skeptically. Lydia could tell that he was contemplating whether or not to tell her.

“They just destroyed a restaurant and wounded dozens of people to scare me, I think I have a right to know.” She crossed her arms over her chest and waited for his answer.

“They’ve been counterfeiting American currency and smuggling it into the States. That does not include their criminal enterprises here, along the French Riviera. They have quite the extended network, but their most profitable is the counterfeit operation.”

“How do you know all of this?” Lydia was having a hard time trusting this man, who seemed to know so much about these Monacan criminals.

“I told you, I worked for Jaquiennes as a gambler. I’m not involved in his seedier activities, but that does not mean that I’m unaware of them.”

Lydia took a step back.

“Why should I trust you? Why didn’t you take me to Renaldo if you really work for him?” Her breathing was ragged and she was rapidly becoming overwhelmed with the situation.

“Because I know that you aren’t a spy, and because I can help you.”

“How can you help me?” She did not believe that there was anything that could be done. If these men wanted to find her, what would stop them?

“I can get you to the Americans.” He stated as if it were a non-issue.

“Oh? How are you going to do that? Do you think that shooter is going to let me get on a plane?” She knew that she was being difficult but her nerves were on edge and the reality of what had occurred at the bistro was finally catching up to her.

“There’s an American Special Forces team waiting just outside of the borders of Monaco. If we can get to them you will be safe.”

“How do you know all of this?”

Travis stared at her with his eyebrows raised, waiting for Lydia to come to the conclusion on her own.

“What?” she snapped. Her brain was too frazzled, too overwhelmed to make that connection that he was expecting of her.

“I think you know.” All traces of his Irish accent were gone. Instead, he spoke with the crisp tones of Midwestern America.

Lydia swore and took two quick steps backward to get away from him. The movement resulted in her tripping over the small ottoman that stood on the edge of the small seating area. She landed on her backside and scuttled a few feet further until her back pressed against the dresser.

She held both hands over her mouth and glared at him. It made her angry that he stood there with such nonchalance. As if what he had just told her was not another dramatic discovery that was wreaking havoc on her day.