Retaliation: An Alpha Billionaire Romance

* * *

* * *

Book 3, Retribution, will release September 30th.

“
I
n the history
of business law, there are many unique and interesting clauses that have stood up in court,” I mutter as I read my textbook. I know it's a bad habit, but when I'm trying to slog my way through dull text, I can't help it. When it gets really boring, I start using different voices as well. “With the rise of Internet-based intellectual property, and the accompanying, more laid-back culture of Internet users, clauses using terms such as 'jerkface,' 'luser,' 'troll,' and even 'Leeroy Jenkins wannabe motherfucker,' have all been deemed acceptable in court.”

I slam my book closed, shaking my head and wishing I could find and strangle the idiots who wrote this. Seriously, I can understand the fact that textbooks want to be interesting. I've spent years of my life absorbing an entire library's worth of information on more than just business. And textbook companies want to be able to constantly keep their books up to date, if for no other reason than wanting to be able to sell you a new edition. But when the writers try to make it funny or cool, what they forget is that unless you actually know what the fuck you're talking about, you come off as... well, as a
jerkface
luser
.

I laugh at my own little joke, and push the book aside for a little bit, getting up to stretch. My tiny studio apartment is nothing compared to what I used to have, with no real walls except for the shared half-wall between the bathroom and the kitchen area. It's nothing like living at the DeLaCoeur plantation house, but at the same time I like it more than where I was raised for most of my life.

First off, I'm in the real heart of New Orleans. Bourbon Street is only a block away, and most nights I can keep myself extremely entertained with the sounds drifting over from the nightly craziness. Sometimes I even join them, normally to see how much I can cut horny guys to the bone with my tongue. It's not too hard since most of the time they're drunk. Even if they weren't, very few of them can handle me anyway, despite my smaller size. Actually, I could use a new challenge on that front. Maybe it's just where I live, but I've grown tired of guys thinking “Hey babe, show us your tits!” is a good pickup line.

Second, the apartment is mine, and it's my first place where I'm standing on my own. Sure, I used Peter DeLaCoeur while I lived with him since he's my father, at least biologically. Yes, I knew his money was dirty—hell, the man was probably involved in having my mother killed. I was using him, biding my time to get the necessary information to finally take him down. He used my presence as a way to constantly remind his wife of at least one of his many affairs. After the way she treated me from the minute I first came to live with them, she didn't get much sympathy from me either. I would've felt bad for her and her shitty situation, but I'm sure there are mangy stray dogs that get more kindness than what I got from Margaret DeLaCoeur.

When my half-brother Jackson and his childhood friend Katrina, now his wife, launched their own plan to take Peter down, I used it as my chance to step away and get out clean. Thanks to the fifty thousand dollars and bag of jewels I took with me when I left, I've been able to spend the past year and change on my own, and I'm grateful for that. I've learned more about my inner strength, and I take pride in knowing just how much I'm capable of when pushed.

The noise from Bourbon Street is starting to pick up, and I know I won't be getting a lot more done tonight. Even with my noisecanceling headphones I know more studying's just not going to happen, so after I finish my stretch I sit back down, pulling my laptop over. I open my TOR browser and wait while my connection stabilizes before I log into my favorite hacker board. The alt-net is wooly, twisted and complicated. Constant flame wars occur at levels as epic as the fantasy books most of the hackers are into, but the alt-net is still the source for some of the most interesting and knowledgeable people on the Web.

I check to see who's online, and grin when I see a familiar name. We've only met a few times in person, but it's good to see Darcy around cyberspace, or BlakDhal1A as she's known in hacker circles.

BlakDhal1A- Hey kid. How's the studying?

Blue Sakura- Not bad. Bored tonight. I hate biz law.

BD- That's just because you know how easy it is to break it.

BS- LOL. True. Hey, did you hear? The Black Man's back in town.

BD- You know I hate it when you call him that.

BS- Yeah, but that's why I do it.

BD- I know. But yeah, I know about Nathan. He's been back a while, keeping it really DL. Jeff actually met face to face with him.

BS- And you're not a widow?

BD- LOL. Nah, Jeff went unofficially, not on NOPD time. He did say that Nathan was, quote, unsettling.

BS- He's got that effect. You heard from Kat recently?

BD- She and Jackson are doing well, I heard. So is little Andrea.

BS- I still geek out over that.

BD- I know. Still, u OK? I mean, you seem pretty lonely. We haven't even met for beignets in what, six months?

BS- Yeah, just before Kat gave birth. I'm a bit lonely, but I'm getting along. Just gotta finish this degree, and see that Peter DLC is put away for life. Jackson and Kat started it, but I want to see it through before I can move on.

BD- I gotcha. Keep your head down, kid.

BS- Stop calling me kid! I'm 21. I can drink legally and everything!

BD- Well, sometime maybe let's get together and you can prove it to me.

BS- We'll see. All right, back to contract law!

BD- Yay. TC, Andrea.

BS- You too, Darce.

I close the window and think about what to do next when thunder rumbles, and I grin. While I think there were still idiots partying on Bourbon Street when Hurricane Katrina rolled through town, the rain does at least kind of keep the crowds down, and I've always loved the sound of the rain.

“Fine, I'll try and actually study,” I grumble to the heavens, reaching for my textbook. Before I can get started again though, there's a knock on my apartment door, which surprises me. I'm in a tiny third floor walk-up, and even Jehovah's Witnesses don't bother making their way up my narrow staircase. The last person to come up these stairs was my landlord two months ago when I asked him to take a look at a wonky light switch. Being in a location that's not so accessible affords me a lot of privacy. I welcome that, but it also means I'm isolated, and while maybe isolation's not what I want, at least it's safe. And safety is very important when you've got a father like Peter DeLaCoeur.

I go over to the door, picking up the baseball bat I've got stashed behind it just in case, and look through the peephole. What I see surprises me so much that I drop my bat, yanking the door open quickly. “
Oniichan!
”

I grab my half-brother in a tight hug. It's been over a year since we've seen each other in person, our contact limited to photos we've sent each other and the occasional video chat. Even though there's only a two year age difference between us, we weren't particularly close growing up. When I made up my mind to see our father brought to justice for his crimes, I hadn't factored Jackson into my plans. We irritated each other more than we bonded as siblings, and I'd never thought Jackson would be someone I could rely upon. But once Katrina was back in his life, he proved me wrong, and we bonded quickly over our shared disdain for Peter DeLaCoeur. I love my brother dearly.

“Hey Andrea,” Jackson says, hugging me back and lifting me off the floor in the process. He's still big, easily a hundred and ninety pounds, but he's slimmed down some, lost some of that bodybuilder muscle that he used to carry all the time. The difference now is that Jackson is carrying around a lot of lean muscle, and his frame reflects that. He doesn't look like a gym rat anymore, but he doesn't look soft or weak either. “It's so good to see you.”

“And you,” I groan slightly when he squeezes me tight before setting me down. “Mercy...”

Katrina shakes her head when she hears me call her by her alias and closes the door behind her as she cradles a tiny little bundle in her arms. “Only in business, Andrea. Say hello to your niece.”

Katrina turns the bundle toward me and my heart melts. Andrea Hart is just a few months old, and as she stares at me with her big blue DeLaCoeur eyes, she blinks at me solemnly, like she recognizes something about me, but isn't sure what. “She's beautiful, Katrina. Absolutely amazing. It's... it's so good to see you guys!”

Katrina hands Andrea off to Jackson before hugging me, giving me a squeeze that's nearly as rib-crushing as her husband's. Seriously, how does a woman who's five ten and only a buck twenty-five have the strength to squeeze like that? “Ouch, you're gonna break something!” I protest.

Katrina laughs and lets go, patting me on the head. “So you're stopping the
oneechan
stuff, then?”

I grin and shake my head. Jackson and Katrina are the only people I've ever considered family, and the terms are my way of demonstrating both my respect and affection. But they like to tease me for using them on occasion. “Never. But what are you guys doing here? Jackson, you dropped off the face of the earth so hard I would have lost you if it hadn't been for Baby Girl here. I mean, after everything went down at the house, I figured it'd be a while longer before we all saw each other again. At least until Peter's safely locked away and his associates aren't looking to take our heads.”

“Actually, that's why we decided to come here,” Jackson says, patting his daughter on the back. Andrea yawns and closes her eyes, and I'm reminded she's only a few months old, and that for her, sunset is close to bedtime. “We had another member from our strange little group track us down the other day.”

“Oh? I heard Nathan was back in town. I was just talking about it with Darcy online, actually.” I realize that the three of us are still standing in what I guess you can call my entrance area, and wave them deeper into my apartment. Well, if you can call it deeper, since the place is small enough that you could throw a paper airplane across the entire space without it touching the ground. Not that I need the space. I've never had anyone up here socially, not even any of the handful of people I can count as study buddies. We always meet at a coffee shop or in the university library. “So he found you guys?”

“He did,” Katrina says as she takes a seat on my dining room chair that triples as my spare chair and desk chair. Jackson sits on my tiny loveseat, setting baby Andrea in her bundle blanket on the cushion beside him, where she rolls into the junction of the front and back and promptly starts snoring. With no other options except my bed, which is currently folded away, I sit down on the floor in the lotus position, still somewhat shell-shocked. “He came by our dojo just a few days ago. Actually...”

There's another knock on the door just as the thunder rolls again ominously. I look from the door to Katrina, arching an eyebrow. “You're kidding me.”

“Nope. He asked us to smooth the way first, that's all. Go say hi, it's going to rain in about five minutes,” Jackson says, giving me a smile. “He's okay, Andrea. Seriously. Besides, weren't you two buddies back at the house?”

I chuckle and get up, heading to the door. “Jackson, neither he nor I had any friends at the house, at least not until the last month or two,” I say over my shoulder. I kick my home security baseball bat and pick it up, putting it back in its corner before opening my door again. “Hello, Nathan.”

Growing up, I was scared silly of Nathan Black. Because unlike Jackson, I actually knew early on who Nathan was, and what he was capable of. Even after working together to put my father behind bars, I still feel a little bit of an inner chill as the former Green Beret with the watery green eyes and grave expression comes in, dressed in his ever-present black linen suit. “Andrea. It's been a long time. You look well.”

“Thanks. Come in, you can have any of a wide array of luxury seats,” I wisecrack as he steps inside. “As you can see, you have your choice of any corner on the floor you wish.”

Nathan chuckles, his voice sounding like gravel and marbles rubbing together. He crosses the room to take a seat in front of baby Andrea, and I realize with only a little bit of surprise that he's protecting her. “That has to be the most well-protected baby in the entire state of Louisiana,” I remark.

“There is a reason for that,” Nathan says quietly while I take a seat. “Your father is getting out of jail.”

“What?! Get the fu... sorry Kat, I guess you don't want Andrea to hear that,” I quickly apologize, still shocked. Katrina shrugs, but nods gratefully. “He's getting out of jail? How?”

“The judge threw out some of the evidence related to one of his charges, so the state's case is dead in the water,” Katrina says with a shake of her head. “The federal charges still apply, but the judge already granted bail on that. It was a technicality at the time, since he was already being held on state charges, and it kept him inside the state to make the trials easier, but now...”

“Now he's getting out,” I groan, lying back on the floor hard enough to bonk my head on the thin carpet. “Ouch.”

“Andrea, Nathan found you quickly once he contacted us,” Jackson says from his seat on the couch. “You've probably been safe here until now since you registered at school under your mother’s name, but let's face it, Peter DeLaCoeur is not stupid enough to not know who Andrea Mori is. From there, it isn't all that hard to track you back to this place.”

I sigh, nodding. “And you think he's coming after us.”

“I know he is,” Nathan rumbles. “He has already contacted me about finding you three.”

“And why the hell did he do that?” I ask, covering my mouth again. “Sorry.”

“She's sleeping, relax,” Jackson chuckles. “Be yourself, Andi.”

“Thanks. So Nathan, why did Peter contact you?”

Nathan rumbles again, then looks over at Katrina and Jackson, who nod in support. “Well, as you know, after the last day at the mansion I had fully intended to start making things right. And while I did rectify some things, I kept getting pulled back here. Part of it, Andrea, is that most of the evil I did working for Peter was here in the New Orleans area, or at least along the Gulf Coast. But also, my promise to make sure Peter is neutralized is not finished. So I came back, and started reaching out to some of the former family associates. I was laying the groundwork to continue to take down the network from the inside when Peter reached out to me from behind bars. He wants blood.”