The Billionaire’s Pet (A 'Scandals of the Bad Boy Billionaires' Romance) Page 22

I sank to the floor in the pitch-black room, waiting for the pounding of my heart to slow. I didn't know where the light was or how long I'd be trapped in the safe room. I didn't know what was going on in the penthouse, who the intruder was, or how he'd known my name. And I had no idea if the fire on the first floor was under control or if it was working its way up to threaten the penthouse.

  I only knew that there was a thick door between me and Big John. And that Jacob would come for me. No matter what was between us, I knew Jacob would come for me. I just had to stay safe and wait.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  JACOB

  * * *

  I should have expected Big John to make a move. I had expected it, just not this soon after the ambush at Shaded Glenn. If the Sinclair team hadn't been covering the building, we might have had casualties from the car bomb in the street. As it was, there was plenty of property damage and a few minor injuries, but no deaths. Not yet.

  The second the building shook from the bomb, I wanted to go straight for Abigail. Our fight had been absurd, mostly because I was being an ass. I loved her. I knew she loved me. All I had to do was tell her, and we could move past this bullshit. Instead, I'd played it safe and depended on our arrangement to keep her with me. The bomb shocked me back to my senses.

  This was no game. I loved Abigail, and Big John would stop at nothing to take her from me. To destroy her. It was time for me to man up and stop being such a pussy. I checked the window and saw the burning car and the people running in the street when my phone rang. Cooper. I put him on speaker, my hands occupied with getting my gun from my desk drawer and shrugging into the shoulder holster. I had a license to carry concealed, but I almost never used it. Pulling on my jacket, I said,

  "Cooper. Report."

  "You okay?" he asked.

  "Fine. In my office. Abigail?"

  "She's covered. I have men in the stairwell, men on the penthouse doors. No one is getting in. But we've got problems down here."

  "Another bomb?" I asked, already moving for the door. I was the only one left in my office at that hour. At least Big John had picked a time when the building was mostly empty, except for the residents.

  "Fire. We're not sure if it's from the explosion or a secondary source."

  "I'm coming down," I said, taking the stairs three at a time. "Tate and Holden?"

  "Both out at Manna with their women. We're evacuating the retail level and the residents. The sprinkler system is going off. Watch out for the water. Meet me out front."

  I was almost to the first floor. As soon as I checked in with Cooper, I'd be up to watch over Abigail. If Big John had set off that bomb, he was here for her. Cooper's men were better protection than me, but I'd feel better if I were with her.

  Until I could get to her, she should be in the safe room. I called her, relief spearing through my heart at the sound of her voice, concerned and confused but not frightened. I filled her in on what I knew, told her to get into the safe room, and hung up. Talking to her just made the urge to go to her that much stronger.

  But this was my building. I had to check on the evacuation and make sure the fire was under control before I went to Abigail. Everyone here—the residents, the people stopping by for a coffee, anyone still working in the offices—were my responsibility. Abigail had a whole security team watching over her. She was safe.

  I knew she was safe, but my gut didn't believe it. I pushed open the door to the street to see Cooper pacing and barking into a phone, Griffen directing traffic, and police cars racing down the street. I was grateful for the officers’ quick response, but I didn't want to talk to them. They'd try to keep me from going back in the building, and nothing was going to keep me from Abigail, not even the police. Through the shattered front windows of the building, I could see the fire on the retail level. It wasn't raging out of control. That was something.

  "Evacuation?" I asked. Cooper dropped the phone from his ear, but he didn't end the call. "We're double-checking the retail, but it looks like everyone got out in the first few minutes. We've been bringing them out the back exit, away from this." He gestured around him at the shards of glass in the street and the burned-out shell of the car that had exploded. "I've got men clearing the office and residential levels. We've been tracking everyone who goes in and out, and we're clearing them as they evacuate."

  "So we're good? I want to get upstairs."

  Cooper gave a short nod. "The fire was more smoke than anything else. The flames aren't spreading. The evacuation is mostly a precaution, but—"

  Cooper's hand shot to his ear, pressing an almost invisible earpiece as he said, "Say again?"

  "What?" I demanded. "What's going on?"

  "There's no response from the two guys I have in the stairwell on the east side of the building."

  I took off at a run, not waiting for him to finish. Cooper's guys were closer to the east stairwell then I was, but I wasn't heading to the east stairwell. I was going straight for Abigail.

  The elevator would have been fastest, but it would have been shut down when the sprinkler system went off, and I didn't have the time to bypass the system. I pounded up the stairs, cursing myself for living on the top floor. Too many flights of stairs, too far away. I was in good shape, and I was fast, but not fast enough. The top of the stairwell stretched above me, further away with every step, a funhouse tunnel of railings and endless stairs mocking me as I climbed faster and faster.

  I should have passed people evacuating the building or Cooper's security. The floors went by in a blur, all of them ominously vacant. My lungs heaved for air by the time I got to the penthouse level. I cracked the stairwell door and risked a quick look. In the narrow gap, I couldn't see everything, but the bodies on the floor and the streaks of red staining the carpet told me I shouldn't expect any help from the security team.

  Fuck.

  Movement at the door caught my attention. Someone was there, watching but not moving. For a second, I thought it was Big John until I realized this man had black hair and he was bigger than the elder John Jordan. Bigger than Big John. That was a terrifying thought. Over his black leather jacket, he wore a biker's kutte covered with patches, in its center, the image of a hawk poised for attack, its exaggerated claws dripping blood.

  A Raptor's kutte. That meant his size was the least terrifying thing about him. Before I could figure out a plan, Abigail's scream for help sliced through the silence, spurring both of us into motion. The Raptor, already at the door, beat me through. A thud, then someone shouting, "Abigail!"

  I pushed through my ruined front door just in time to see Abigail disappear into the safe room. Big John lunged for the door, but she must have turned the lock because his meaty fists pounded uselessly on the thick barrier. I drew my gun and pointed it at Big John, ready to swing it to the Raptor if he made a move for the safe room.

  The Raptor drew his own gun and leveled it at Big John, ignoring me. Big John turned, bracing his back against the safe room door as if protecting his prize, and stared at the Raptor with a look he probably thought was defiant. He didn't look defiant. He looked scared. Shit. The Raptor wasn't just bigger than Big John Jordan. He scared the hell out of him. Not good. Whatever happened, they weren't getting Abigail.

  "What are you doing here, Lucas?" Big John asked, his voice thready with nerves. "I've got this under control."

  "Yeah, I can see that," the Raptor, Lucas, said, his voice holding a note of amusement. "Winters, for your own good, I hope that gun is trained on Jordan."

  "It is," I said. "For now."

  "Good. But don't shoot him. Big John is mine." He hadn't taken his eyes off his prey, but I could tell he was talking to Big John when he said, "I've been waiting for this for a long time."

  "Don't!" Big John shouted. "Take out Winters, and we can get Abigail. We'll make our deal, and everything will go the way we planned."

  Lucas laughed, a chilling sound that was distinctly unamused. "I don't want Abigail. I only asked for her to get he
r away from you. She's better off with Winters. You fucking think you know everything, Jordan, but you're a fucking moron. You still don't know who I am, do you?"

  "What?" John spluttered, his face paling. He leaned against the safe room door, more in need of support than as a mark of possession. "What are you talking about? You're Lucas Jackson."

  "Remember your son? The job that took him out? You sent your assassin after two men that night. Who were they?" The Raptor's voice was low and deadly.

  "I gave you everything," John protested. "If I hadn't had Gunner killed, you wouldn't be leading the club now."

  His entire body a rock, Lucas didn't move except to squeeze his trigger finger. Big John screamed and fell to the floor, blood pouring from his leg.

  "I never wanted the fucking club. I was only there for Gunner. Gunner Jackson. My brother. I took over the club to help them take you down. Killing you is just the beginning. We're going to dismantle your entire organization until what's left of your family has nothing."

  "No, please, Lucas. I didn't know. He didn't go by Jackson. I didn't know he was your brother." Big John blubbered, but as far as I could tell, it had no effect on Lucas.

  "Like it would make a difference. Gunner was in your way, so you killed him. You killed your own son the same night, you twisted fuck. The thing is, family means nothing to you, but it means something to me. My brother was a criminal, but he was family."

  My head spun. All this time, I'd seen the Raptors as an equal threat to Abigail, but if Lucas was telling the truth, he wasn't my enemy. He claimed he'd been protecting Abigail. I wasn't ready to believe it was going to be that easy.

  Big John tried to get to his feet, slipping in his own blood, his injured leg unable to hold his weight. He aimed his weapon at Lucas and pulled the trigger, the shot going wild as he slid to the side, his knee buckling beneath him. Lucas, apparently done with his revenge scene, shot three times in rapid succession. The first opened a neat hole in Big John's wide forehead. In case that wasn't enough, the next two drilled the left side of his chest. Big John slumped to the side, his gun falling from his hand. That quickly, it was over.

  Lucas Jackson turned to me, shoving his own gun in a holster at the small of his back. I lowered mine, but didn't put it away. I wasn't ready to trust the President of the Raptors. Not yet.

  "Keep that pointed at the floor, and we won't have any trouble," Lucas said, turning his back on Big John's body.

  "You were playing Big John this whole time?" I asked. Lucas lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug.

  "Gunner wanted to get in bed with him. That part was real. After he died, we voted to use the deal to take him down."

  "So why bring Abigail into it?" I asked. "You made her a target."

  Lucas let out a bark of laughter, both bitter and amused. "I fucking kept her alive. As soon as Big John figured out she wouldn't whore for him, he was going to get rid of her."

  "Why did you care?" I had to know what his interest in Abigail was. Now that we had Big John out of the way, I needed to know if anyone else was coming after her.

  Lucas shook his head. "Relax, Winters. Your woman isn't my type. She's gorgeous, but the last thing I need is a society girl."

  "Then why put yourself out there to save her?" I asked, a little relieved that Lucas wasn't going to make a play for Abigail. She loved me, not this oversized biker, but his ease with killing Big John, and his obvious size, meant I'd have a fight on my hands if he decided she was going with him.

  He sighed, as if he'd hoped to avoid explaining. "She was nice to me, okay? Big John had us over a few weeks after it all went down, and he made her play hostess. It was obvious she didn't belong there. I knew her husband was dead, and she was terrified—of Big John, of a rowdy group of bikers in her home. But she treated us like honored guests. She was gracious. Like a flower in the midst of a cesspool." Lucas looked away, embarrassed at his poetic turn of phrase. "She deserved better than to be stuck at Big John's mercy. I looked into her and didn't like what I found out. We decided to make her part of the deal after Big John said he was done with her."

  "So what happens now?" I asked, looking at Big John's body on my office floor, his blood staining the handwoven rug.

  "I'm heading out," Lucas said, turning for the door. "When the cops make their way up here, tell Detective Ryan Brennan what happened. He knows where to find me for any follow-up."

  I watched Lucas leave and pulled my phone out of my pocket. Voices filtered in from the hall, but I wanted to check on Abigail before anyone else showed up. The safe room was almost impenetrable, but I'd made sure a phone could get a signal. I didn't want to be stuck in there, safe but with no way to communicate.

  "Jacob?" Abigail said, her voice low and hesitant.

  "It's me. Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

  "No, I'm fine. I'm in the safe room."

  "I know. I got here just as you locked yourself in. Big John is dead, but I want you to stay in there until we confirm the building is clear." A long silence. "Abigail? Say something."

  "Big John is dead?"

  "He is. I promise." Cooper entered through the smashed doorframe, several policemen and a man in a brown blazer trailing behind him. "I have to go for a few minutes, sweetheart. I'll call you back as soon as it's safe."

  "Okay. But first, can you tell me where the light switch is? It's too dark in here."

  Too dark would be an understatement. Had she been sitting in there in the pitch black this whole time? The switch was hard to find, a design flaw, but I'd created the tiny room just for me, and I knew where it was, so I'd never bothered to fix it.

  "Reach into the shelves to the left of the door. Behind the boxes." Shuffling sounds, then a click. "Got it?"

  "I got it."

  "Good girl. I'll call you back as soon as it's safe to come out."

  I hung up and turned to face Cooper, ready to get the details out of the way so I could set Abigail free.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  ABIGAIL

  * * *

  I'm sure Jacob didn't leave me in the closet for too long, but it felt like hours. I could hear sounds through the thick door, muffled voices and footsteps, but nothing I could decipher clearly. Finally, he called me back and told me it was safe to come out. I unlocked the heavy door and swung it open to find Jacob standing right in front of me.

  "Close your eyes," he said, scooping me into his arms and swinging me away from the safe room door. I obeyed, but not fast enough to avoid the sight of Big John's dead body, blood soaking his shirt, a neat bullet hole in the center of his forehead. Not sure what else there was to see, I squeezed my eyes shut and let Jacob carry me away from the carnage.

  He set me down on my feet in the guest bedroom and pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly, his cheek resting on top of my head. "I thought I'd lost you," Jacob whispered. "I saw the guards and thought he had you."

  I waited for him to step back and let go, but he kept me there, tucked into his solid body, until a fist pounded on the door of the room.

  "Winters, we need to get her statement."

  Jacob raised his head and said, "In a minute." He took my face in his hands, his mouth hard as he took in the swelling on my temple where Big John had hit me. I wasn't sure if it was lucky or not that he'd struck me opposite where I'd slammed my head into the van. Now both sides of my head ached, but at least I wasn't bleeding. "We need to get ice on this," he said. "Did he hit you?"

  I nodded. "I'm okay," I said. "Really."

  Jacob made a sound in his throat that reminded me of a growl and tilted my face up to his, his silver eyes gleaming with an emotion I was afraid to read. "Abigail," he whispered, and lowered his mouth to mine. He kissed me, nipping and sucking at my lower lip until I melted into him, opening my mouth and tasting him, pouring all my fear and hope into our kiss. I was lost, and all I could do was sink my fingers into his shoulders and hold on.

  Voices filtered in from the hall, and Jacob pulled back. "The police need
you to tell them what happened. After that, we're going to go stay with Aiden for a few days while they get this mess cleaned up. But first, you can change out of that robe and pack a bag."

  I nodded, too overwhelmed to speak. I had questions—a long list of questions—but I couldn't seem to make my voice work. Instead, I went to my closet and chose a pair of jeans and a loosely woven knit shirt. I wasn't normally a jeans kind of girl, but after the past few hours, I wanted something comfortable, fashion be damned.

  I tugged on underwear, the jeans, and a camisole for under the knit shirt before I found a bag in the bottom of the closet and hastily threw together a few days’ worth of outfits. Taking the bag to the bathroom, I pulled a brush through my tangled hair and packed my toiletries. The whole time, Jacob stood by the door, arms crossed over his chest as if to ensure no one interrupted us.

  I was as ready for the police as I'd ever be. Holding an ice pack someone had brought me to the side of my head, I sat in the armchair in the corner of the room, Jacob beside me, and told the officer everything I remembered after Big John broke into the penthouse. A man in a brown blazer, who introduced himself as Detective Ryan Brennan, asked me a few follow-up questions before they both left, warning us they'd be in touch.

  "Are we in trouble?" I asked Jacob after they'd gone. He shook his head.

  "No, sweetheart. I didn't kill Big John."

  "Then who?" I remembered the dark-haired intruder. "Someone came in right before I made it to the closet."

  "Lucas Jackson. President of the Raptors."

  "Oh. He killed Big John? Why?"

  Jacob took the overnight bag from the bed, where I'd left it, and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, steering me down the hall and angling me toward the front door so I couldn't see into the office. His gym bag, stuffed full, sat by the ruined front door. He stopped short and turned to me.

  "Close your eyes, Abigail." I opened my mouth to speak, and he shook his head. "Please. I'll tell you anything you want to know, but it's a mess out here, and I don't want you to see it. Humor me and just close your eyes. I'll lead you out."