Babysitting a Billionaire #3 - Taking Control(11)

The police were examining the bomb now. Apparently, something had gone wrong and triggered it early. So someone incompetent was trying to kill him. That was maybe even worse.

He'd been trying to work, but couldn't settle and in the end he gave up. It was nearly time for the meeting with the security company, anyway. Jess. Heat coiled in his belly at the thought of her.

He'd gotten lucky today, but how long would that last? He hated to admit it, but his father was right; he needed some protection. He'd given in and told him to arrange a meeting. But he was sure of one thing: any protection he accepted would not include Jessica.

And it wasn't because he didn't believe she could do it. He'd gotten the background report on her and it was seriously impressive. She was UK champion in unarmed combat, whatever that involved. She'd competed in the Olympics for shooting and won a medal. No, he was sure she was competent and while she said she hated him, he was also sure that she wouldn't let that influence her doing her job.

That was all irrelevant, because no way was she putting herself in danger to protect him. Just the thought of Jess stepping in front of a bullet meant for him made him reach for the scotch.

Never going to happen.

He'd have to find another way to get her to come to him. Because he wasn't letting her disappear from his life. Not yet.

He'd woken that morning with a sense of anticipation he hadn't experienced in years. He felt vital, alive, and randy as hell. Yesterday had only whetted his appetite for more.

Obviously all those years ago, he'd walked away from her before their somewhat explosive relationship had run its course. They'd been so volatile, always arguing, fighting, making love. It had been the best sex ever, before or after, but he'd pushed that to the back of his mind. It had only taken one meeting to make him realize that he'd never forgotten her. 

She was unfinished business. And he meant to finish it. And enjoy the process. And she would, too. Though he'd have to wait until his little problem was fixed, no way was she being anywhere near him while some asshole was trying to blow him up. Afterward, when it was over, he would find a way to reel her in. Once in his presence he was pretty sure she wouldn't be able to resist. The reeling in was going to be the hard part.

He relaxed back in his chair and sipped his scotch, a smile tugging at his lips just as the door opened and his father stepped into the room, Paul behind him.

"Why the hell are you looking so cheerful?" his dad said, throwing himself onto the leather sofa. "Didn't someone just try to blow you up? And why are you drinking at eleven in the morning. You never drink in the office."

He raised his glass. "Just celebrating being alive."

"Hmm." His father didn't look convinced. "Well, I came to tell you that the problem is sorted."

"It is?"

"I told you I could sort it out. You should have let me do that from the start, and then you wouldn't have gotten in this mess."

"You were the one who wanted the company respectable," Declan pointed out. "That means leave the criminals to the police. So who was it?"

"You don't need to know, but I pulled in a few favors and they won't be bothering you again."

"And they admitted it?"

"Well, the shooting they did, though they wouldn't own up to the bombing-probably some overambitious underling wanting to impress his boss and taking things into his own hands. But the bottom line is they're not coming after you. We can cancel your babysitters."

Declan sat back and considered the information. Yeah, it would be good to get back to normal. Or would it? "Normal" hadn't been that great; in fact it had been bloody boring. The last couple of days, he'd actually felt alive. There was something wrong with his reasoning, but he still couldn't deny it.

"You don't look too pleased," his dad said.

He gave himself a mental shake. "No, I am."

"Good. Well, I'll call up and cancel the meeting with the security company."

Which meant no Jess for lunch. He couldn't believe the stab of disappointment right to his gut at the thought.

It occurred to him that now there was no danger, there was no reason to keep her at a safe distance. Problem with that logic was, that with no danger there was also no reason for her to come anywhere near him.

"Don't cancel the meeting."

"What?" His father had been on the point of rising. Now he sank back down.

"I think I'll feel safer with some protection for a little while." Declan rubbed his arm over the bandage. "Just until we're sure I'm in the clear. You said it yourself, they didn't admit to the bombing. What if that overambitious underling decides to try again?"

"Oh, I'm sure these people are capable of keeping their underlings in control." He studied Declan through narrowed eyes. "Could this be anything to do with your ex-girlfriend? I heard she spent a rather long time in your office yesterday."

Declan glanced at Paul, who was standing by the window hands in his pockets. He didn't say anything. Declan had always known he was his father's man but for the first time he didn't like the idea he had a spy in his territory. Maybe it was time to get another assistant.




 

 

"We were just talking about old times."

"Why do I find that hard to believe?" His dad shrugged. "We've got the money. If you want to play some sort of game with your little ex, who am I to argue?" He gave Declan one last look and rose to his feet. "By the way, your mother is coming over for my birthday in a couple of weeks."

"She is?" That was a first.

"Yes, and she's bringing Penny with her."

"What? Why the hell would she do that?"

"I invited her," he said, then hesitated a moment before continuing, "I'm worried about you."

"And how does inviting my ex-fiancé to your birthday make me any safer?" Maybe he should lay off the scotch.

"I don't mean the case." His dad shifted from foot to foot as though uncomfortable. "You need a life outside the business."

"I'm fine," he ground out.

"You're far from fine. You're a goddamn robot, Declan."

His jaw clenched. He'd done everything the family wanted of him and this was what they thought of him? Something occurred to him then. "Is that why you threw Jessica at me?"

"Maybe."

Declan shook his head. "The scourge of the East End of London turned matchmaker." It seemed inconceivable.

At the door his father turned back. "But it worked. It's good to finally see some sign that you're actually human, even if it has taken a bullet and a bomb. Your mother will be pleased. I'll see you at the club."

"Okay. I'm going to check into the hotel first, get Grunt settled." His apartment had been trashed. The damage from the explosion had been relatively small, but a fire had broken out and the smoke damage was extensive.

As the door closed behind them Declan poured himself another scotch, sat back in his chair, and considered the conversation. What the bloody hell did his mother have to do with it?

 …

Jess had a certain sense of déjà vu as the taxi deposited them outside the nightclub. This was where she'd had that final showdown with Rory McCabe all those years ago.

The place was closed, but Dave tapped on the door, and it opened within seconds. A man stood there. He was huge, a slab of steroid-induced muscle, his black T-shirt stretched tight over bulging chest. One of Rory's bouncers. He looked over them briefly and then stood aside to let them in.

They followed him through into the main area with the large dance floor and podiums scattered about. She'd danced on one of those podiums the night she'd met Declan. The place hadn't changed at all, though it appeared different in daylight, the blinds open. 

They passed the table where she'd had her last confrontation with Rory McCabe, but they didn't pause. Instead, they followed the man through a door in the far wall and into a private area with a table set for lunch. Three places.

Rory McCabe was seated at one of them, facing the door. He looked so like his son that a shiver ran down her spine. She would do well to remember the relationship. Rory was a hard-nosed bastard, and while Declan had a veneer of civilization, underneath she was guessing he was just the same. From her research, she had learned that the business was totally legit, but no one was that successful without a ruthless streak. Rory rose to his feet as they entered, his lips twitching as he caught sight of Dave and Steve behind her. "You brought your own bodyguards. I assure you, you're quite safe here."

She ignored the comment. "This is Dave Grantham and Steve Forrest. They'll be working on Declan's team if we take the job."

He nodded and spoke to the young man who'd led them here. "Could you set the table for two more and inform the kitchen."

She gave her best insincere smile. "I hope we haven't inconvenienced you."

"Why do I get the impression you don't give a damn if I'm inconvenienced?"

She didn't answer, just shrugged and stepped aside as the young man pulled up two extra chairs and repositioned the others. She took one, leaving a gap between her and Rory. Steve hesitated a second, then took that seat, and Dave took the one on her other side. Maybe they'd sensed some animosity between her and the older man.

"Drinks?" Rory asked waving a hand at his own glass of scotch. "I remember you had a thing about my malt scotch."