The Wicked Billionaire--A Billionaire SEAL Romance Read online

  Truth was, the news of Griffin’s illegal business venture had come as a huge shock to Lucas, since laid-back Griffin Riley was the last man he would have picked to have gotten involved in the arms trade. Worse, he’d had no clue of his friend’s illicit dealings. Griffin had been a solid friend, a decent guy, a great sailor, and even now Lucas couldn’t imagine what had made Griffin think that working for de Santis was a good idea.

  The only thing that made any sense was money, yet Lucas hadn’t been under the impression that Griffin had been hard up. Though maybe it was just plain old greed. Growing up as the child of a very rich man, Lucas had certainly seen a lot of that in his father’s social circle.

  Grace had gone pale, her gaze shocked.

  A kinder man might have given her some time to process what he’d just told her, but Lucas was not a kinder man. He was not a kind man, period. Kindness wasn’t going to save her life, and besides, she needed to know what she was facing and the quicker the better.

  “The important thing to know,” he went on, “is that some very dangerous men want their money back and since you’re Griffin’s wife, they’re probably going to try and get it from you.”

  Her face went even paler, her freckles standing out against the ashen color of her cheeks. Even her little reflexive movements had ceased, her whole body settling into the stillness of shock. “But … I don’t have any money.”

  “That doesn’t matter,” he said implacably. “If you don’t, they’ll use you to try and get some from someone else.”

  She was clutching her tumbler very tightly, her fingertips white. Her fingers were very long, very elegant, and he couldn’t help noticing, though why he should notice he had no idea. “Use me how?”

  “As a hostage.”

  “But … I don’t.…”

  “Even if you have no family members willing and able to pay for your safe return it won’t matter to them. They want their money and they’ll try and get it out of whoever they can.”

  “A hostage…” Grace blinked at him, rapidly. “I’m sorry, but that sounds … insane. Griffin would never, ever do anything like that, for a start. He loved his job. He loved serving his country. I can’t imagine him … s-selling weapons for God’s sake.”

  The color had crept back in her cheeks and clearly she was now in the process of denial. That was fine, he’d expected that.

  Reaching into the pocket of his leathers, Lucas pulled out his phone and swiped across the screen, pulling up the text messages from the file that had been e-mailed to him.

  He put the phone down on the table and pushed it toward her. “Take a look if you don’t believe me.”

  Again she blinked, her reluctance obvious.

  “They’re text conversations, Grace.” He made his tone hard, leaving her no room for hope that he might be wrong, because there was none. “Griffin was arranging secret meetings with several high-profile arms dealers. I also have photos of him making a delivery. And if that’s not enough for you there are details from a couple of bank accounts that were in his name. Payments from various Swiss bank accounts. Large payments.”

  She didn’t look at the phone. Instead she lifted the tumbler and drained it, then put it with exaggerated care back down on the table. “My husband is dead,” she said quietly. “You know that, don’t you?”

  Lucas frowned at her, not really sure what her point was, since it was pretty fucking obvious that Griffin was dead. “Yes, of course I know that.”

  “It’s been six months, Lucas. Only six months. And now you’re telling me that he wasn’t the hero I thought he was, that he was selling weapons to some dangerous people and now those people are coming after me.…” She shook her head and gave a small laugh. “It’s … ridiculous. I’m sorry, but I haven’t got time for any of this.” She pushed her chair back and stood up. “Thanks for the drink, but I’ve got to get back to Craig and change the dates for my exhibition.” Her mouth, wide and somehow fascinating, turned up in a faint smile. “It was nice to see you again.”

  Wait a second. She was leaving?

  “Grace,” he said patiently. “I don’t think you quite understand what’s going on here.”

  “Oh, I understand. Some people are coming to take me hostage or something. Well, thanks for the heads-up, but I’m sure I can deal with them myself.” She was already turning toward the door to the bar, wrapping her black leather coat more firmly around herself. “I’ll be sure to let you know if I run into any difficulties.”

  And before he could say another word, she started moving in the direction of the door.

  * * *

  Grace didn’t want to stick around and hear another word, not one. None of it made any sense. She’d only just gotten her head around the fact that Griffin was dead and not simply away on deployment like he’d been for the past year, let alone that he’d been dealing in … weapons or whatever.

  And then there was the fact that she was currently in danger from people who wanted to extort some money out of her.…

  No, it was crazy. And so was Lucas Tate.

  “Grace.” The sound of his voice was cold, clear. Saying her name with so much authority that she found she’d stopped dead in her tracks before she was even conscious of doing so.

  It was vaguely enraging. Because if there was one thing she couldn’t stand it was being ordered around by arrogant assholes. She’d had enough of that growing up with a control freak father. She didn’t need it from anyone else.

  He hasn’t actually ordered you to do anything, so how about you calm down?

  Calm down? Why the hell did she need to calm down when she was perfectly calm already?

  What she needed to do was keep on walking. Head straight out of the bar and go back to the gallery and see if she could talk Craig round. What she did not need was to go back and sit down and listen to more lies from crazy Lucas Tate.

  Come on, that man is the opposite of crazy.

  Grace swallowed, staring at the door. The back of her neck was itching like mad and she knew it was because Lucas Tate’s icy gaze was currently boring a hole right through her. And as much as she didn’t want to listen to what he had to say, she couldn’t ignore the fact that not only was Lucas far too cold and logical to waste time lying to her, he also had no reason to.

  Which makes it all true.

  Fear gathered like a hard, round stone in the pit of her stomach, which she hated. So she did what she always did whenever she was afraid.

  She turned around and confronted it.

  Lucas was sitting at the table where she’d left him, leaning back in his chair with his arms folded. His tall, powerful figure was so still, that icy gaze of his unwavering as it met hers, his features betraying absolutely no emotion whatsoever.

  Even now, even when he was turning her world upside down, his beauty struck her like an almost physical blow. He looked like some kind of stern warrior angel. All he needed was a pair of white wings and a flaming sword and he could have been a stand-in for the archangel Gabriel.

  It made her want to throw something at him, mark him in some way, disturb that icy, perfect beauty.

  “I know this is hard to hear,” he said without inflection. “I know this is a shock. But I’m not a liar. Every word I said is true.”

  Dammit. She did not want to deal with this. Not now. She didn’t have the time, let alone the emotional energy, not when she had a piece to finish for her exhibition.

  That’s really all you can think about? Your piece? When your dead husband was apparently dealing in illegal weapons and your life could be in danger?

  Well, she only had Lucas’s word about that. Not that she disbelieved him actually, it was just … crap.

  “Sit down.” He nodded at the chair she’d just vacated. “We need to figure out how we’re going to deal with this.”

  Grace hated giving in, every part of her rebelling against doing exactly what he told her like a good little girl. Then again, she wasn’t stupid either.

  �
�Okay, fine.” She shifted on her feet, then reached up to her hair, pulling it over one shoulder, the movement soothing. “We can deal with it tomorrow. I’ve got a few things I need to handle right now, and quite frankly, I’m going to need a bit of space to get my head around everything you’ve just told me. So how about—” She stopped dead as Lucas pushed his chair back and rose to his feet in a smooth, fluid movement. He skirted the table, coming toward her so fast he was suddenly right in front of her, looming over her, before she’d even had a chance to draw breath.

  She instantly wanted to take a few steps back to put some distance between them, but there was no way she was going to give ground to him or let him know he’d surprised her, so she stayed where she was.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded, still finding having to tilt her head back to look up into his face something of a novelty. Even with Griffin she didn’t have to do that. When she was in her heels, she and Griffin were exactly the same height, and she’d always found that cute and reassuring.

  She did not find that with Lucas. There was nothing cute or reassuring about him.

  “I can’t force you to sit down and talk if you don’t want to.” His tone was uninflected. “But I’m not letting you walk around unprotected either.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means you’re stuck with me until the men coming after you have been neutralized.”

  Grace lifted one hand to her temple, rubbing at it, feeling a vicious headache beginning to pulse behind her eyes. “Hang on, back up a second. Stuck with you?”

  He glanced away from her, scanning around the bar as if he was checking for threats already. “You can continue doing whatever you’re doing, but I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

  Wait, what? Not let her out of his sight? “I hope when you say that, you don’t mean you’re going to follow me around all day. Because if you are that’s not going to work for me.” Good God, she didn’t want him following her. She didn’t want him around, period. She had stuff to do, and besides, there was too much about him that made her uncomfortable. And all this … stuff with Griffin didn’t make it any better.

  Actually, now she thought about it, why would Lucas want to follow her anyway? What was he getting out of this? And how did he know about Griffin in the first place? Had Griffin told him?

  Maybe you should talk to him?

  Lucas glanced down at her. “I don’t care whether it’s going to work for you or not. I was told you needed protection and so I’m going to protect you.”

  “Yeah, and who told you that?”

  One blond brow rose. “So you do want to know after all?”

  She found herself coloring, which irritated her. “Fine. You can do what you like, but I have to get back to the art gallery.” Without waiting for a response she turned and headed toward the bar’s exit, not waiting to see if Lucas followed her. Pushing open the door, she stepped out onto the sidewalk, the icy wind whipping underneath her leather coat. But as she walked back to the art gallery, it wasn’t the wind that made her shiver. That prickling sensation was needling at the back of her neck again and she didn’t need to turn around to see what it was. She knew. He was following her.

  Apparently, when he’d said he was sticking around he’d meant it.

  Trying to ignore both the man and the sensation on the back of her neck, Grace approached the gallery door, only to find a small handwritten note stuck to it: Back in an hour.

  Oh great. This day was getting better and better.

  Again there was no sound behind her, but she knew Lucas had come to a stop. She could almost feel him, his presence dense and cold like a heap of snow caught in the bough of a tree, ready to fall on some poor unsuspecting person passing beneath it.

  “I guess you don’t want to wait an hour.” His voice was smooth and deep, but she didn’t miss the faint edge of sarcasm in it.

  It did not help her mood any.

  Grace turned and then wished she hadn’t. Because he was standing pretty close behind her, his height making her feel weird again. As if she were being crowded against the gallery door. It made her want to reach out, put her hands to the broad expanse of black leather covering his chest, and give him a good shove.

  Maybe you should. Maybe you should see if he’s as cold as he looks.

  The thought caught her by surprise, stealing her breath for a second, and her palms itched, the urge to do just that suddenly overwhelming.

  As an artist she followed her instincts without question, her emotions the creative engine that powered her work. She followed them as a woman too, a rebellion against the repressive atmosphere of her childhood, when her father and his moods were the sun that everyone else revolved around.

  But right now, there was something about that urge to touch Lucas that she didn’t trust.

  It seemed to belong to the same fascination she’d always had with him, the need to poke at him, ruffle him. Disturb that icy calm. See if it was a mask or whether it was true that he was completely frozen all the way through.

  Not that she was interested in finding out. Not at all.

  Grace shoved her hands into her armpits instead. “No,” she said grumpily. “I don’t want to wait an hour.”

  “Then we should go somewhere that isn’t quite so public.” He glanced away from her again, up and down the street, obviously checking perimeters or whatever it was that soldiers like him did.

  Aggravatingly, he seemed totally unconcerned by how close he was standing to her, which was annoying given the urge that had come over her. No, he just stood there, a wall of black leather and lean, hard muscle. God, even if she did try to shove him he probably wouldn’t move. He’d simply keep standing like a big, dumb rock.

  Something deep inside her twisted unexpectedly, a little flare of heat. Kind of the same feeling as she’d had when he’d taken her elbow, a rush of sensation completely out of proportion to the impersonal touch. She couldn’t work out what it was, so she ignored it.

  Are you sure you don’t know?

  Grace pushed the thought away. “We? We are not going anywhere. I am going home.”

  “You can go home, but like it or not, I’m coming with you.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  He ignored her, his attention on the street. “If you’re going to go you’d better go now.”

  “You’re not coming with me.” She didn’t know why she was being so insistent. Perhaps it was the thought of him in her little apartment, the tiny, pokey one she’d been forced to move into after Griffin’s death because she hadn’t been able to afford anything more. The place was even too small for her, let alone Lucas as well, and even apart from the size, she had her art stuff scattered all around the living area because she’d had to give up her studio space.

  The thought of him surveying the apartment with those cold eyes of his, taking in all the artwork she had leaning up against the walls, made her cringe.

  But he didn’t appear to be listening. He’d gone very still again, his focus on something down the street, and Grace became aware that there was a dangerous kind of tension gathering around him. A lethal energy that made the hairs on the back of her neck suddenly stand up.

  Something was wrong, she could sense it. The stillness about him was different from what she’d seen before. The sort of stillness that settled just before an earthquake hit or a volcano exploded.

  “What is it?” she blurted out before she could stop herself.

  He turned his head so quickly it was a wonder he didn’t have whiplash, his gaze meeting hers, the expression in it so intense she didn’t know if it was icy cold or burning hot. “Don’t speak. Don’t say a fucking word. Stay calm and do what I tell you.”

  Then he reached out and, for the second time that day, curled his long fingers around her arm.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Grace stiffened, as he knew she would, but he had no time for that kind of bullshit. Down the end of the street he’d seen a guy hanging aro
und a newsstand. At first Lucas thought he was some homeless person panhandling, but the man had been moving slowly closer toward where he and Grace stood, flashing glances in their direction.

  And as if that hadn’t been enough of a giveaway, years of experience were currently whispering in Lucas’s ear that the guy was as sketchy as fuck and that Lucas needed to get Grace out of here.

  He’d always listened to that whisper and he didn’t question it now. If the guy was indeed a lookout then the first thing Lucas should have done was get rid of him. But sadly this was a public street and he didn’t have his TAC-338 with him, plus the police didn’t take kindly to murder. Which only left him with getting Grace away as soon as possible.

  Her eyes had gone large and this time he could see fear glinting in them. Clearly she’d picked up on his tension and correctly interpreted it.

  Good. She should be scared. Maybe if she was then she’d stay the hell quiet and let him do what he needed to do, which was extract her from the situation.

  “My bike is across the street,” he said. “So we’re going to cross over to it and then I want you to get on the back.”

  She shifted, the muscles of her arm going tense where he held it. “What’s happening? What do you see? Can I—”

  “Just follow my instructions,” he cut her off with finality. “I don’t want us to draw attention, understand? I’ll explain when we get there.” He didn’t wait for her to respond, he merely turned, tugging her with him, moving down the sidewalk a little way and then to the curb.

  She didn’t resist this time but kept turning her head as if she was trying to spot what was going on.

  “Eyes forward,” he ordered. “You start looking around like that then you’re going to give us away.”

  She flashed him a glance that he couldn’t interpret but did as she was told, thank Christ. He kept hold of her arm, not wanting to risk her pulling away and drawing attention, the leather of her coat soft beneath his fingertips. Her muscles remained tight as he waited for a break in the traffic before crossing the street.