Billionaire Ransom (2 page)

She loved that Morgan was a bad boy, loved that he was so in charge and so unlike every other man she’d ever known, but she also knew that the very things she loved about him were things that could separate them. Like for fifteen to twenty years.

She sat down at the small kitchen table. His lifestyle left him in danger of being arrested. Katie had to realize that the sexy bad-boy biker- image also came with complicated strings. There was stuff going on in his life that was highly illegal, and if he got caught he was going to prison.

And where would that leave her?

She sighed. She wanted things out of life she hadn’t considered before. She wanted kids and a home. She wanted to raise her children in a house filled with love and laughter, something she’d never had growing up. She wanted to spend her life with a man who wasn’t cold and distant. She wanted to live a life that wasn’t about money. Yet how could she have that with Morgan? His job wasn’t exactly the nine to five kind of living in the country with a couple of kids setting.

She stood and started pacing.

They had heat, a physical attraction that drew them together like a moth to a flame. However, what else did they really have?

There were too many variables in their relationship. She was an analyst and she knew the odds of them making it weren’t high, not with the way things were right now.

She could just leave. Simply disappear and never speak to or see him again. It would suck for both of them for a bit, but they had barely been together. Morgan would move on.

Could she?

What if things changed? What if Morgan changed? What if they just packed up and bolted together—went somewhere and became somebody else? Completely different people? They could just lie on warm beaches all day and toast each other.

She had enough money…

Except Morgan would never do that. What was more, she wouldn’t want him to. It would alter everything, and she didn’t want him to change. She wanted him. She just wanted him with her.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t pay close attention to the slight scraping sound at the front door. In the back of her mind she assumed it was the mail or something.

It took her a moment to connect that Morgan’s place didn’t have a mail slot. It would be in the drop-off box at the end of his driveway, or the in the mailbox. No, he definitely didn’t have a mail slot.

She had her back to the door and, as warm arms wrapped around her, for a single second she thought it was Morgan.

But Morgan smelled different. His arms felt different. The body against hers felt different and she knew instantly it wasn’t Morgan.

Panic flared and she struggled, her arms flailing and her feet kicking backward. She got loose and spun around just in time to see a gun pointing at her.

Her gaze flicked from the gun to the stranger’s face. “Craig?”

“I want to do this as easily as possible,” he said, his tone low and firm, “but if I have to kill you, I will.”

Her heart dropped to her stomach. Sickness floated up from her belly and lodged in her throat. “What do you want?” she choked out.

“Revenge, of course.”

“Morgan’s not here.”

He scoffed at her lame response.

She shot a wild look around her, hoping to find something to use as a weapon but, when she moved, even slightly, Craig clicked the safety off and cocked the gun, freezing her in place.

She said, breathlessly, “Morgan’s going to back any moment.”

“No, he won’t.” The knowing look in his eyes terrified her.

His words and expression had more of a crippling effect than the gun pointed at her chest. What had he done to Morgan? Had he ambushed him? Killed him? Her tongue came out and wet her dry lips. “Wh-What d-do you m-mean?”

“He’s tied up.” He burst out laughing. “Not by me, bitch! He’s busy with shit from the club. He’s not coming back here anytime soon.”

Relief made her legs weak as water, but she didn’t put too much stock into his words. Craig might have killed Morgan just for spite. He also might not tell her the truth just so he could keep whatever leverage the gun didn’t buy him.

“I don’t know that.”

Craig’s thin lips lifted away from his teeth. He growled as he raised the gun. “I should just go ahead and kill you.” He smirked suddenly. “But I’ll wait. I have something better in mind.”

Her stomach sank even further. “Wh-What do you mean?” Damn! Did she have to keep stuttering? She’d kill him before she let him touch her.

“I mean the only things Morgan really cares about are the Orphans…and you. I think I’ll take both.”

She stared at him, not sure how to respond.

Craig was an attractive man, not as handsome as Morgan, but still good-looking. His dirty-blond hair, cut short, and the pointed angle of his chin and his dark brown eyes were all intriguing, but his nasty attitude stripped away any charm he might have had.

She needed to use it against him, to play his strength against him and turn it into a weakness. Maybe if she flirted with him…
Stupid idea! It won’t work!
“Morgan’s not going to care a smidge about me.” As she spoke, she discreetly pressed the record button on her phone still in her hand, hoping desperately to leave behind a clue in case Craig did shoot her. “I’m just a piece of ass. Nothing more.”

“Just a piece of ass?” He barked out a laugh. “The hell you are! And I’ll be the judge of that! You’re coming with me, or I’ll kill you right here in Morgan’s fucking kitchen! Let him clean your brain splatter off the walls! I don’t give a shit.” He glared at her and raised the gun.

“You won’t shoot me! There’s no leverage with a dead body.” She heard the desperation in her own voice. She looked around again, hoping for a weapon. “You’ll have to drag me out of here, kicking and screaming.”

He chortled. “Not if you’re knocked out.”

“Knock me out? I’ll be useless on the back of your damn bike.” She was arguing with the mad man?

“What the fuck? You think I’m an idiot?” He reached for her, and she jumped behind the chair. “I drove a damn car, bitch!” He raised the gun again, this time aiming at her leg. “I can shoot you and not kill you.”

She froze, knowing he would do it and not bat an eye.

Craig reached out and gripped her neck tightly.

“Morgan’s going to kill you for this.” She fought against him, the terror that he might strangle her becoming too real as her windpipe felt crushed.

“I don’t really care.”

He didn’t. She saw it in his eyes. “He’s your best friend,” she gasped.

“Was, thanks to you.” He jerked her toward him and her phone slipped out of her hand, luckily landing on the counter without much of a sound. He let go of her throat and jerked her around, pressing the gun into her back. “He exiled me from the club so he could fuck you. Now I’m going to fuck him over.”

Craig was a killer, and she knew it.

“Move.”

She had no choice. If she fought him, he’d shoot her and drag her out of the house. If she tried to run, she’d either end up shot… or worse. She took a small step forward. “I hope Morgan kills you.’

“Shut up.” His hand gripped her arm, and the barrel of the gun dug into her side. She cried out involuntarily, the fear and the pain combining to cause that exclamation. Craig opened the door and pushed her through.

A sports car sat at the curb, the engine running. Craig walked her to the driver’s door and barked, “Get in!”

She blinked. “What?”

“You’re driving.”

She caught a breath. Could she speed away and leave him standing? He dangled the keys in front of her. “Don’t even think about it. You won’t get a foot before I hit the remote start and cut the engine off. Then I’ll kill you, and instead of just shooting you in the head I’ll shoot you as many times in as many non-vital places as I can before I kill you.”

She swallowed, her mouth as dry as a desert. He wasn’t kidding, and it showed on his face. The idea of being tortured that way was entirely unappealing. She had no choice. She got into the car and he slid into the passenger seat. Her hands shook as she set them on the wheel. “Where are we going?”

“Drive toward the highway and I’ll give you directions from there.” The coldness in his voice hadn’t abated.

Terror kept her in its grip.

What did he plan to do to her?

Tears started but she blinked them back. Shoving the car into drive, she pulled away from the curb.

Morgan was irritated when he pulled his bike up to the bar. The other bikes sitting outside warned him something serious was going on, and when he entered, the solemn faces of his crew confirmed his hunch.

He didn’t bother with preliminaries. The crowd that day was solely his crew, no weekend warriors or stockbrokers masquerading as bikers were in yet, and wouldn’t be in either. A member locked the door the second Morgan crossed the threshold.

“What the hell’s going on?” His voice carried across the barroom.

Clive stepped forward, his face wearing a tight expression of worry. “We got trouble, boss. Big time.”

“So explain it to me.” He lifted his chin at Jack, who promptly poured him a short glass of whiskey and slid it across the bar. It was early to start drinking, but way too early for serious trouble.

Clive cleared his throat. “The DEA’s in the yard.”

Morgan swore loudly. Trouble? That was putting it mildly. The last thing they needed, on top of Craig’s exile, a major fight with the Orphans, and long days spent beating the streets to come up with the money to make Craig’s actions right was the news that the DEA was hitting the streets. Theirs in particular.

That meant a lot of things. A cut in income. The possibility—a high likelihood—that someone at the street level would rat out someone on a hierarchal level, and that particular little shit snowball would roll right downhill and land them all in jail.

Damn it! “Shit! Then we have to pull everything. Now! Not fucking tomorrow, now! Get our biggest guys in line with what’s going on. Clean it all up. Erase whatever we have to.”

Clive shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “Everything?”

“Drugs and money, dickhead,” Morgan snapped. “You know we don’t do murder.” Morgan drank his whiskey, his mind trying to work out all the particulars. “Anyone know who the DEA sent in?” Craig had probably ratted them out. Or the OutKasts. There was a piece of shit that needed to be cleaned up somewhere.

Clive shook his head. “No. We just know there’re three of ’em.”

“We need to figure out who it is, and find out what the hell they know.” He slammed his glass on the bar counter. “What the fuck are they after?” he shouted. “Nobody touches anyone with intent. Do you hear me? Rough ’em up if you have to, but the last thing we need right now is murder, or attempted murder, on our hands. And make no fucking mistake: if we fuck this up and someone gets killed, the DEA’s already in our ranks AND WE’LL FUCKING GO DOWN FOR IT!” He grabbed his glass and drilled it against the wall, shards of glass exploding everywhere. “Someone’s after our ass and I’m going to fucking find out who!”

His chest heaved as he stood glaring at everyone. They were on the brink of losing everything. Stupid Craig and his need to be a weasel. Had he just kept his head down, they probably wouldn’t be in this mess right now. He inhaled a sharp breath and let it out slowly, lowering his voice as he spoke, “We need to know who the cops have already gotten shit on, and find the rat. In order to do that, we have to make all of us sparkly, fucking clean.  Get the damn DEA out of here as fast as possible!” Fuckin’ drug enforcement administration! Morgan didn’t want to have to deal with drugs. He was hoping to push the club away from all this kind of shit. Now it might be too late.

“What do you want us to do with the stuff we have on hand?” one of the bikers asked quietly, as if scared his question might set Morgan off.

Morgan ran his fingers through his hair. “We need to get rid of whatever we have. If the DEA’s already documented sales of illegal substance,” he said and sighed again, “we’re screwed. Let’s minimize the impact as much as possible. Maybe, if we’re lucky, they’re just snooping. They might not have anything on us—yet.”

“Got it.” Clive nodded. “We’re on it.”

Morgan clenched his jaw. They needed to get this shit sorted right away. “Okay, let’s ride. I’ll take the south end. Clive, you and a few others take the north. Billy, you and Arnie take the east end, and the rest take the west. Comb through everywhere! We need to get our ears to the ground and get some shit figured out, and fast. If dealers have our shit, get the cash and dump whatever you can. Whatever the hell you do, don’t get fuckin’ caught!”

He spun around and headed out the bar, the rest of his crew in tow. He swung his leg over his bike and dropped down heavily on it. His good morning had evaporated into a terrible day. He thought of Katie, glad she hadn’t come in with him. At least she was safe, and protected from this shit raining down on them. He kicked the bike to life and headed out, determined to put a band- aid across whatever might be bleeding in his small empire.

**

Morgan, exhausted from trying to fix what he didn’t know was broken, headed into the parking area of his condo. It was late, but at least he was done for the night. A frown creased his face when he saw Katie’s car still in the driveway, where it was when he’d left this morning. He glanced at his condo and wondered why all the lights were off. It was full dark, and she should have turned on a few lights.

Unless she was setting the mood for something.

He grinned, but the corners of his mouth dropped back down. It hit him that he hadn’t heard from her all day, despite her saying she’d text or call. He’d been too busy and stressed to think about it earlier but, now, faced with the dark house, his gut tightened and he knew something was wrong.

His hand went to his hip and the gun concealed below his leather jacket. He paused, one foot still on the bike pegs and one on the ground. He knew if anyone was in the house, the sound of his engine and the single headlight pulling into the drive had already alerted them so there was no sense in trying to sneak up on them now.

He climbed off the bike and headed for the condo, his senses tingling. He didn’t go to the front door; he stayed in the puddles of darkness made by the shadows and lack of streetlights and then he headed for the back entrance.

He paused there, back against the wall, listening hard. He didn’t hear anything but that didn’t assuage his fears; it just made them worse. It shouldn’t have been so quiet; there should have been some sign of life. Normally there wasn’t any sound or light to greet him when he came home, but normally there wasn’t anyone waiting for him.

His thoughts went back to Katie’s car in the driveway. It hadn’t moved at all, and he knew it. So why would she be sitting in the house in the dark and the silence?

She wouldn’t be.

That was only one answer.

Something had to be wrong.

He opened the door, cautious and ready to fight. The door was unlocked and slid open easily, disturbing him further. He slipped inside and stood silently, reaching out with his senses to try to find any clue as to what was going on. He tread lightly through the house in the dark, easily finding his way past furniture and other obstacles.

Nothing.

Anywhere.

Katie was gone.

In the living room, he flipped on lights and dialed her number. Her phone rang but he could hear the shrill ring of it, and he turned in a circle until he located the direction the sound was coming from.

Katie’s phone lay on the kitchen counter, like it had been dropped carelessly there. Uneasiness turned to real fear as he picked it up. The battery was almost dead and there was a warning flashing. The recorder had reached its limit.

Swallowing against the sudden dryness in his throat, he hit play on the recorder and listened intently as Craig threatened to shoot Katie, and forced her to go with him.

His stomach knotted and his chest ached.

Katie!

Where anger had filled him earlier with the news of the club, panic spread through him like wildfire. He had to find her!

He called Clive.

Clive answered on the first ring, “Morgan?”

“Craig took Katie.” Morgan wiped the sweat from his forehead.

Clive swore loudly and hissed, “When?”

Morgan looked at the date stamp on Katie’s phone. “Early this morning. Damn it, Clive! I have to find her. I need your help.”

“You got it, man.”

Morgan closed his eyes and shoved the gun back into his waistband, “Shit! I have no idea where Craig would take her, except his house. I’m heading there first.”

“He won’t take her there. You know that already.”

“Maybe. Katie recorded his break-in to my place. I don’t think he knows she recorded it. He might think I don’t know it’s him yet.” He replayed the recording so Clive could hear it.

“Oh, hell, Morgan.”

His fingers clenched at the sympathy in Clive voice. It grated at him and pushed his level of panic up a notch. “I’ve got to find her fast! Shit! There’s no telling what Craig might do to her.” He swallowed back the bile pushing up his throat. He didn’t want to imagine. She’d already been with the ass-hat all day. He shuddered and forced his shoulders back.

“Katie’s tough. We’ll find her.”

The words didn’t help soothe Morgan; all they did was inflame his worry. Craig had always been good to the women he was with. He wasn’t violent towards them, but Katie wasn’t his; she was Morgan’s, and Craig’s anger, once unleashed, could be deadly.

He knew that first-hand.

He hung up and headed out the door, determined to find Katie and kill Craig in the process if he had to.