Anything He Wants 4: Collateral Damage (Dominated by the Billionaire) Read online

  When Lucy Delacourt signed a contract with billionaire Jeremiah Hamilton to be his new assistant, she never imagined she’d be thrown into an assassination plot, almost succumbing to poisoned champagne meant for her boss. Now a killer is on the loose and Jeremiah whisks her back across the Atlantic to his huge estate in the Hamptons. There, protected by a small army, Lucy is kept under lock and key against the shadowy thread of the assassin, but learns more about the enigmatic Jeremiah. The CEO is determined to protect his assistant from all enemies, even himself, but his methods cause friction within the tenuous relationship. When matters come to a head however, could the threat be much closer to home than anyone thought?

  Anything He Wants 4: Collateral Damage

  By Sara Fawkes

  Copyright 2012. All rights reserved.

  *

  1

  I was eight years old the first time I got the flu. It was bad, enough so that I had to be rushed to the hospital. While I couldn’t remember much, I did remember vividly the aches and pains as my body struggled to rid itself of every last vestige of the foul disease.

  Waking up in that hospital room felt similar, like waking from a painful dream. Eyes still closed, I turned my head to the side, the simple movement making me dizzy and nauseous. At my moan there was a commotion next to me then a strangely familiar man’s voice said, “Get the doctor.”

  Why was that voice familiar? Who... Thinking made my head hurt so I gave up for a while, trying to keep as still as possible. After a moment the nausea subsided and I cracked open one eye, then the other.

  I was in a well-lit room, the bright fluorescent lights above like knives in my skull. Figuring for the time being it would be better to keep my eyes closed, I listened as several people filed into the room.

  “Ms. Delacourt, my name is Doctor Montague. I’m going to need you to open your eyes.”

  “Hurts,” I mumbled, my tongue stinking to the roof of a dry mouth. I tried opening my eyes again and it was a little better this time. The room and its occupants were fuzzy; the tall figure beside my bed leaned in close and shined a light in my eyes. I flinched but the pain from before was already subsiding and he only did a few sweeps before pulling the pin light away.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Like I’ve been hit by a bus.” The doctor spoke very good English but I could hear the slight French accent in his words. “Am I still in Paris?”

  “Oui, you were brought here soon after your little incident.”

  “Where’s Jeremiah?” I struggled to pull myself upright, ignoring the explosion in my head and the doctor’s restraining hand. “Is he okay?”

  “He’s been coordinating with French officials on investigating what happened,” a different voice stated. “Discreetly.”

  It took me a moment to recognize the familiar form beside the bed. I barely made out Ethan’s bald head through blurry vision. “So he wasn’t...?”

  “No, he wasn’t poisoned,” he replied, correctly guessing my unspoken question, and I let out the breath I was holding. “He’s been going through various channels to try and find the culprit. I sent word that you’re awake, he should be here any moment.”

  Hearing that Jeremiah was okay and on his way eased a burden inside my chest. The doctor handed me a glass of water as I glanced toward the clock, then the dark window. “How long was I out?”

  “Three days,” Ethan replied and I coughed on the water I’d just swallowed. The big man shifted. “We didn’t know how it would end up. Lucky for you, Jeremiah has some medic training.”

  “I almost died?” My words were a whisper and I found it difficult to come to grips with the idea.

  “Officially, you did. Twice.” The doctor took my cup and set it on the table beside me I finally saw clearly. “If not for the, hm, insistence of Mr. Hamilton we may not be having this conversation.”

  I stared at my hands for a long moment, emotions all jumbled together in my head. “I’m tired,” I murmured, sliding back down the bed.

  “Before you sleep,” Ethan said, stepping toward me, “I’d really like to ask you a few questions about the man who brought the bottle to your room.”

  Everything in me went cold. “You think he was the one who...?”

  “That’s what we’re trying to find out.”

  The familiar deep voice made my heart leap. Jeremiah walked into the room and stood at the foot of the bed before looking at the doctor. “How is she?”

  “Awake, and that is a good sign. I’d like to keep her at least another day for observation.”

  Jeremiah nodded at the doctor, who returned the gesture and silently left the room. Fear settled over me like an oppressive blanket and I blindly reached for Jeremiah’s hand when he took the empty spot beside me, not caring who saw the action. Someone tried to kill me. The very thought made my heart race.

  “What do you remember about the man who delivered the champagne?” Ethan asked as I clung to Jeremiah’s hand.

  “He was ordinary,” I said, then winced at the phrase. Way to be unhelpful. “He was white, dressed like a hotel employee, and had medium brown hair and brown eyes I think.”

  “Hair and eye color can be changed,” Jeremiah interjected. “What about facial features? Any scars or moles?”

  Thinking made my head ache and I closed my eyes, trying to picture the brief glimpse I’d had of his face. “He had kind of deep set eyes, thin lips and was a couple inches taller than me. Um, I think he had a mole on his left temple and a scar on his chin, but I don’t know how much of that might be makeup.”

  Jeremiah and Ethan’s gazes met briefly and my heart sank. I probably just described half the country.

  “What did he sound like?” Ethan asked finally after scribbling notes on a small notepad.

  “He spoke English really well; I thought he sounded American.” I thumped my hand on the mattress in frustration. “I don’t know. He seemed like a normal hotel employee and I didn’t think to look that hard.” A thought occurred to me. “What about the security cameras? There has to be something on them.”

  Both men shook their heads. “We already checked,” Jeremiah said. “Whoever it was knew exactly where even hidden cameras pointed; we never got a face shot.”

  I slumped in the bed. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Jeremiah’s phone went off, and he pulled it out to check the screen. “I need to take this,” he said, pulling his hand free from my grasp. “Ethan, see if you can find an artist to draw what she remembers. I’ll be back.”

  Tears pricked my eyes as I watched him leave the room. Silly girl, I chided myself, blinking hard, he still has to do his job. It still hurt to have him gone however, there was security in his presence that I didn’t feel with a simple bodyguard.

  “You know, this whole deal hit him pretty hard.”

  I looked over at Ethan, wiping at my leaking eyes. The bald man wasn’t looking at me, too busy typing into his phone, but I could still sense his attention. “What do you mean?”

  He didn’t answer for a moment, intent on his phone, then clipped it to his belt and looked at me. “How long have you two known one another again?”

  The question felt like an interrogation and I frowned. “A few days, why?”

  Ethan grunted. “He’s pulled out all the stops trying to find out who did this. I haven’t seen him this motivated in a long time; even the last time someone tried to kill him he wasn’t this driven for answers.”

  My mouth dropped open. “What?” I said, voice barely a whisper.

  Ethan shrugged one shou
lder like it was nothing. “A man like Jeremiah, given the cutthroat business he does, gets a lot of threats from all quarters. It was just after he agreed to sponsor my company that someone tried to shoot him outside his building.” Ethan snorted. “Jeremiah had already broken the man’s wrist and taken the gun by the time I got close. Turns out the gunman wasn’t even the person with a beef, he’d been hired to do the dirty work.”

  “What happened next?” I asked when Ethan lapsed off, looking at his phone again.

  “Nothing. The boss told me to find out who was behind it and let him know, then got on a plane for Dubai. Didn’t seem worried in the slightest.” Ethan peered at me. “Maybe it’s because you got hurt on his behalf. Either way, Celeste has taken over business operations while he focuses on this manhunt and tries to keep the press from getting wind.”

  “So, the person on the phone...?”

  “Was probably one of his contacts. If he didn’t want us to listen in, it was probably one that I don’t approve of. Either way, he’s gone to extremes on this one.”

  Jeremiah chose then to come back inside, stowing his phone in his pocket. I got my first glimpse outside the door and saw two men dressed in black standing on either side of the entryway before the door closed again. Even has guards posted at the entrance. How much trouble are we in?

  “I have the boys looking for an artist now,” Ethan said. “Hopefully we can get someone up here within the next few hours.”

  “Good.” Jeremiah moved to my bed then frowned down at me. “You should be resting.”

  “Who was that on the phone?” I asked bluntly. When his eyes narrowed, clearly annoyed with the question, I persisted. “If it has something to do with me then I should know. Who tried to kill us?”

  Jeremiah glared at Ethan but the big security expert had his eyes back on his phone, deliberately ignoring our conversation. “I’m not sure yet,” Jeremiah finally said. “I gave them the description you provided and they’re hopeful. Now, rest.”

  My body demanded I follow the order – I’d been fighting to stay awake anyway, but I still struggled to keep awake. “You won’t leave?” I asked, pushing myself deeper under the sheets.

  His eyes softened a bit. “I’ll be nearby,” he promised, and at his words I finally closed my eyes, letting my exhaustion overwhelm me.

  *

  I stayed in the hospital for three more days under observation. The doctor seemed optimistic about my recovery, but I felt weaker than a baby. Needing help to do simple things like walk proved frustrating and I was determined to do it on my own. After I slipped and nearly fell trying to get myself to the attached bathroom however, Jeremiah ordered that I have constant help available, whether by nurses or bodyguards.

  Most of my days were spent sleeping, but it quickly grew boring staying in the hospital bed. When I mentioned this to Ethan, the bodyguard an ever-present fixture in my room, a brand new tablet, still in the box, appeared beside my bed soon afterward. The device gave me something to do with my spare time, and I spent most of it researching my new boss.

  I’d joked before that I knew the Wikipedia version of his life, and as it turned out so did the rest of the world. There were articles on him that mentioned his time as an Army Ranger, talked about his charity work, and went into detail on his business ventures, but I knew all this already. The media threw out words like “mysterious” and “enigmatic” when they described him, and the words seemed appropriate given the lack of any in-depth information through nearly all channels. Articles on the corporate changeover after his father’s death were similarly shallow, mainly analyst predictions where the company would go under new management, if a man who had minimal business education could really take over for the tycoon Rufus Hamilton, and so on.

  By day four of my stay I was walking on my own again, just in time to leave the hospital. Our exit felt like an espionage movie: I was shuffled to the basement garage by the bodyguards and carefully packed into a waiting limo that I assumed would take us to the airport. Jeremiah watched over everything, never leaving my side, even maintaining a possessive grip around my shoulders as we drove out of the parking garage.

  I dozed through most of the trip, using Jeremiah’s shoulder as a pillow. I awoke once an indeterminate amount of time later to see we were no longer in the city but didn’t think anything of it, nodding back to sleep until the car finally stopped. Jeremiah shifted under me and I lifted my head, gazing blearily out the window. This definitely isn’t the airport, I thought, rubbing my eyes. “Where are we?”

  Jeremiah didn’t answer the question, merely edged toward the door as it was opened from the outside. “Come find out,” he said, taking my arm to help me out of the car. I didn’t immediately recognize the structure. Nearby was the faint sound of water and a monument that looked vaguely familiar.

  Several men in dark suits were scattered around the area and one black man came jogging up to us. “The place is secure, sir,” he said, and as Jeremiah nodded I finally realized where I was.

  “You brought me to Utah Beach,” I whispered in stunned surprise. I’d only mentioned the location once to Jeremiah and had been certain he’d forgotten our conversation, so this was proof he had been listening to me. The wind off the water was chilly, cooling the already frosty winter air; the sky was overcast and looked like it might spit snow at any moment. Looking around at a place I’d only seen in pictures online, I found myself inexplicably tearing up.

  Jeremiah took off his jacket and slipped it around my shoulders when I shivered. “You mentioned this was someplace you wanted to visit.” He looked uncomfortable and edgy, and I wondered if it was my tears. “They have a Visitor’s Center with artifacts from the beach itself, but we can go down to the water if you’re up for it.”

  His voice was gruff and his demeanor short, but I didn’t care. Happiness suffused me at the sight of a place I’d always dreamed of visiting, and I slipped my hand around his. Jeremiah stiffened and I saw him swallow, then his fingers relaxed into mine. “Help me inside?” I asked, burrowing myself deep inside his coat.

  His gaze softened as he peered down at me, then he lifted my hand to his lips. “I’d be honored.”

  2

  We didn’t stay at Utah Beach nearly as long as I would have liked. Jeremiah never left my side as I pulled him from one exhibit to the next. I felt myself weakening after less than an hour so asked to go down to the beaches before I faded completely. He obliged me but cut the trip short after I stumbled twice and was shivering uncontrollably despite the multiple layers of clothing I wore.

  Jeremiah promised me I could come back again when I wasn’t as sick or it wasn’t so cold, and I believed him.

  I slept nearly the entire plane trip back to New York, waking only when we touched down at the airport. True to his word, Jeremiah never left my side as we moved quickly through airport security to the waiting limo which pulled out to parts unknown, at least to me. I rested my head on Jeremiah’s shoulder as his hand moved around to my inner thigh, holding fast. There was nothing overtly sexual but I could feel the possession in his grip and didn’t mind at all.

  When I saw the beautiful large homes through the windows of the limo, I lifted my head to stare at the passing scenery. Partial sunlight from the overcast day reflected off the water nearby, and we passed a marina with large sailboats and more than a few yachts. “Where are we going?” I finally asked.

  “The Manhattan loft is too public to keep secure. My family home in the Hamptons allows much more security until we get to the bottom of this mess.”

  Jeremiah growled the last part of his reply and I swallowed, reminded what was at stake. Turning my attention to the passing houses - no, mansions or estates was the better term - I tried not to think about how weird my life had become.

  Few of the palatial homes we passed had any similarities to one another besides their size, both the house and property, and grandeur. I’d never been to this section of Long Island or any of the more affluent section
s of New York, but had heard it described by friends growing up and had seen pictures on TV and the Internet. Many along the coastline had piers leading out into the waters with large entertainment areas that looked like a park, with green well-manicured lawns and tables. Despite the obvious wealth in the area, many of the older estates along the water had a homey and well-worn feel to then, light and happy – so different from the big city only two hours away.

  The property our limo turned toward however was no less grand yet more forbidding than its neighbors. The small army of guards at the gate who made us roll down the window didn’t make me feel any better, but Jeremiah seemed content with the security. “Is it always like this?” I asked as the big gates drew open.

  “I had Ethan bring in non-essential personnel from his security business to watch the premises. Most of them are ex-soldiers so know what to watch for.”

  “Oh,” I said faintly, unsure how to respond. So he does have an army. “That’s, um, great.”

  The driveway wasn’t long but lined with hedges and trees that obscured the estate. It curved to the right and I sucked in a breath at the sight. My family had been upper middle class so our home had been nice if not huge. So the fact that the house I’d grown up in, and lost to the bank after my parents died, could fit in one half of the building before me took my breath away. I could feel Jeremiah’s gaze on me and felt I should say something, but I couldn’t think of what. The house reminded me of an English castle, all heavy stone and ivy. The area was blocked off from neighbors by trees and thick brush but the grounds extended past the house down toward the water, including several structures that, while large, didn’t match the grandeur of the house.

  An expensive red car was already parked near the main entrance, and beside me I heard Jeremiah give an annoyed sigh. The limo stopped behind the car and as our driver moved around to open our door I saw a slim blonde woman step out of the other vehicle. “Who’s that?” I asked.