Billionaire Decoded (15 page)

"Don't get all excited,
Brecken," Williams said. “We won't hurt you unless you make us."

If Brecken could have, he would've
laughed. He tried to speak again. "The hell…you want?"

Briggs stood. Together, Williams and
his old buddy stared down at him. Williams gestured with his hand. A light
appeared behind them. He saw several other figures, but for several seconds
couldn't make sense of what he saw. Then, one by one, his old SEAL team buddies
stepped forward. Rogers. Anderson. Rodriguez. What the hell?

"We thought we'd have a little
reunion," Williams said.

It took a moment, but Brecken
finally managed to get out of whole sentence. "What the hell is going on,
Captain… or wait, you're probably retired by now, aren't you?" It took
everything he had to sound like he was calm, not concerned a bit by the sudden
change in circumstances.

"You bet I am," he said.
"Making more money, too." He paused and moved behind Brecken.
"But then, you wouldn't know about that, would you, Shaw? You've got more
money than Methuselah, so you've never even had to think about it, have you?
The money didn't make a bit of difference to you that we got paid like shit for
risking our lives the way we did in Afghanistan."

He shook his head. What had
happened? Why was his captain here with his old team? What were they doing?
This wasn't a reunion. This was…

"We thought you might like to
see an old friend of yours," Briggs commented.

He stepped out of Brecken's line of
sight and gestured toward the corner. Brecken turned his head and saw a figure
sitting in the half shadows. His heart skipped a beat. He blinked. Shook his
head, trying to clear the fog from his brain. Looked again.

Shit. It was the Bolivian colonel,
staring at him, a look of boredom on his face. Brecken looked up at Briggs and
then at his former captain, waiting for an explanation.

"The way I see it, Shaw…" Williams
began. "You have two choices."

"Only two?" Brecken asked,
trying to play it cool. His mind raced a hundred miles an hour, along with his
heartbeat. What was going on? How had the Bolivian colonel found his old unit?
Or was it the other way around? What did they want?

Williams laughed. "You see, the
rest of the team, the old team, has joined a private sort-of military unit. The
only member that's missing is you. We know what you've been up to."

"And what exactly is
that?" he asked, looking up at his former commander. What the hell
happened to him? He glanced at the others. To them? How could they betray—

Again, Williams laughed.
"You're wondering how we could betray our oath? Isn't that like calling
the kettle black? What about you, Shaw? How do you explain your own actions,
selling secrets and intelligence?"

Brecken wasn't quite sure how much his
old Captain knew, but the fact that the Bolivian colonel was sitting in the
corner didn't bode well for him.

Williams continued, "You can
come to work for us, our very own private military unit."

"So, let me get this
straight," Brecken said, trying to straighten in the chair. His muscles
still protested every move. "You're now working against the very people
that we were trying to help in Afghanistan? Is that it?"

"And, what about you,
Shaw?" Williams countered. "You trade in intelligence that-"

"I don't trade in any
intelligence or secrets that puts our military in danger," Brecken said,
growing angry. "And if I have secrets that can topple a regime, make some
money, or hell, even set the enemy at each other's throats, yes, I'm going to
profit from it. But I have never, at least not knowingly, divulged any
intelligence or data that puts our guys at risk." He gazed at Captain
Williams, then at Briggs, frowning. He looked at the other members of his
former unit, shaking his head in dismay. "What the hell happened to you
guys? Why are you doing this?"

Again, Williams laughed. "You
think we care about patriotism or loyalty at this point? We got screwed, Shaw.
After putting our lives on the line, risking everything, losing our families to
divorce, whatever, you know we got for it? Nothing!"

"You had your honor!"
Brecken snapped. "Now, you turn on your own?"

"And you haven't committed any
sins?" Briggs demanded. "Are you going to tell me, Brecken, that
you’re so clean? That you have lived your life honorably since you left the
team?"

"What do you want from
me?"

"I already told you,"
Williams said. "You can join our private military unit and work with us,
for whoever pays the highest, no questions asked…"

"I'm not a mercenary,"
Brecken said. There was no way in hell he was going to join his old team. They
weren't his old team anymore. They weren't the buddies that he had endured so
much with. They were strangers. Every single one of them.

How had Williams managed to convince
all of them to go along with this? And even more importantly, why hadn't he
known about it? He knew why. Because he had been too busy fucking Alyson,
starting his own company, embroiled in his own acts of deception and
subterfuge, finding and revealing secrets, buying and selling information. No
matter what the reason, his hands were just as dirty as theirs. He shook his
head.

"Really?" Williams asked.
"Fine. Then you can give us access to your data servers, all of the dirty
information you have on your targets, and then we'll make it easy for you. We
might have a few other chores for you, but in the end, you'll die."

Brecken couldn't believe this. He
turned to the Bolivian. The man smirked. They were working for the Bolivian
colonel? He was trying to bring the colonel down and his old unit was backing
the bastard? He glanced again at him, now making a show of cleaning his
fingernails. Prick.

"Can I think about it?"
Brecken asked sarcastically. His calm tone belied his fury. He couldn't believe
that his formerly honorable and very brave team members had turned into nothing
more than mercenary thugs. Even while that thought raced through his brain, he
wondered how the hell he would get out of this. He was in trouble and he knew
it. His only option, at least as far as he saw, was to play along with them.
But it had to be convincing – very convincing.

He stared at each of them, as if
contemplating his options. He relaxed his expression, hid his anger and disgust,
and acted like he was actually contemplating it.

"The money is good,"
Briggs shrugged. "There was no way in hell I was gonna get by on my lousy
Navy pay. Not even a pension if I survived that long. And, after everything we
did. After everything we sacrificed. Can you believe that? The stupid
government is cutting benefits left and right. But you never cared about money,
did you, Brecken? You never had to worry about money."

He gestured toward the others.

"You know what these guys have
been doing the past few years? Scrambling to get by. Every single one of them.
And you. All you had to do was start your own company with old family money.
Computer programming my ass. You've got it made, Shaw, and you always have. But
the rest of us? We don't have it so good. So don't act so high and mighty. Your
hands are dirty and you know it. Don't try to deny it."

Brecken didn't. In a way, come to
think of it, he had behaved somewhat like a mercenary himself. Selling his
information to the highest bidder. Holding information and threats over
people's heads. Did it really matter who he worked for? What made him so
different from Briggs, Captain Williams, or the others? For the first time in
years, he was disgusted with himself. There had to be better ways to seek
justice than the way he had been going about it, or the way that his former
unit was going about it.

He realized he couldn't contemplate
such thoughts right now. Right now, he had to figure out a way to get out of
this. Unless he did, there was no point in analyzing where he was in life or
what he was doing with it. He glanced up at Williams.

"What's in it for me?"

Williams laughed. "Fifteen
percent cut on drugs smuggled from Bolivia to the States. Ten percent on arms
deals brokered with your contacts."

Brecken pursed his lips and
considered. Fifteen seconds. Thirty. Make it convincing. "You're only in
on drugs and weapons?"

Williams stared at him, assessing.
"We've dabbled in a few other endeavors," he said with a shrug.

"Like what?" Brecken
asked. Williams hesitated. "If you want me to join you, I'll need to know
what you're into." He shrugged. "Besides, I have contacts in a lot of
places. Remember that a little bit of information goes a long way."

"A little bit in international
prostitution-"

Brecken turned to Briggs.
"Human trafficking? Is that what you're saying? Human trafficking? Since
we’re talking about whose hands are dirtiest, let's at least be honest with
each other, shall we?"

Briggs scowled, but after glancing
at Williams, offered another shrug. "Okay, Brecken. Sure, human
trafficking. With Russia, the Middle East, South America…"

"Children?" Brecken asked.
His blood was boiling.

Briggs made a face. "Not
typically, but it’s happened on occasion."

He felt sick to his stomach. What
had happened to his old unit? They were hurting for money so bad that they
would stoop to sex trafficking children? He schooled his expression,
maintaining a sense of calm that he didn't feel inside. He remained silent for
several moments, eyeing Williams, Briggs, the Bolivian colonel, and then every
member of his former unit.

"Well?" William asked
after waiting impatiently for all of a minute.

Brecken raised an eyebrow. "I
want twenty percent on the drugs and ten percent on the arms, but I don't want
a cut on the human trafficking."

Williams stared down at him for
several moments, and then glanced at Briggs, who shrugged. He turned to look at
the others, but no one said anything. Did they believe him? Why shouldn't they?
As they had said, he wasn't exactly clean himself. At this moment, more than
ever before, he felt a surge of shame. They were right. He was no better than
them. But shit…human trafficking? He had his standards.

Suddenly, Williams laughed and
clapped him on the shoulder.

"Welcome back, Shaw," he
said. The others, barring the Bolivian colonel, laughed and welcomed him back
to the old team.

Heather was growing increasingly
annoyed and frustrated. These two guys wouldn't leave, no matter how much she
tried to convince them that she would be perfectly fine in her own apartment.
She even promised them that she wouldn't leave her apartment until Brecken – or
someone – told her she could, but they just stared at her. She had asked them
repeatedly where Brecken was, but they didn't reply. They had even asked the
question of her, so did they know or were they just testing her?

She didn't want them in her apartment.
She didn't even want to be here, anymore. She wanted to be back at the house
with her parents. She wanted to call them, too, but every time she pulled the
phone from her pocket, one of the men gave her a look. Suddenly impatient and
frustrated with the entire situation and annoyed because she didn't know what
the hell was going on, she stood and began to walk away from the couch. She
didn't head toward her bedroom or the bathroom, though, but toward the front
door.

Immediately, one of the men standing
by the window hurried to stop her.

"Where are you going?"

"Outside! Away from you!"
She reached for the front door.

He stopped her, placing a hand over
hers as she touched the doorknob. She gasped, took a step back, and jerked her
hand away from his. "Are you part of Brecken’s security team?" she
demanded.

"Yes."

"Are you acting as my
bodyguards or as kidnappers?"

"We're not kidnappers,
Heather," he said.

He glanced at his partner, who still
stood by the window.

"We were assigned to keep an
eye on you, and we will continue to do so until we get our orders to stand
down."

Orders? Assigned? Stand down? She
frowned up at him. "I don't know what's going on, but I'm telling you
right now that I don't like it and I have no intention of staying in this
apartment with you two goons for the entire night. You've been here all day!
You call Brecken right now and tell him that I want you to leave!"

"You have a phone. You call
him."

"I've tried!" she snapped.
"He's not answering." And that infuriated her. Why, just last night
they had been entangled with each other, having had sex on the floor of Mabel's
Bed and Breakfast! What the hell was going on? She didn't know, and at this
moment, she didn't care. All she knew was that she didn't want to be stuck in
the apartment anymore with these two somber and rather intimidating men.

She continued to glare up at the
bodyguard or whatever the hell he was, but he stared calmly down at her. He was
at least six inches taller and at least one hundred pounds heavier than she
was, so knew that there was no way she was going to be able to physically move
past him. She stamped her foot in frustration. She was fit to be tied, and
spitting mad. She wished at this moment that she had never agreed to work for Brecken,
had never been captivated by his good looks, his sexy charm, and his charisma.

She glanced between the guard
standing in front of her and the one by the window. They both watched her
carefully, as though afraid that she would explode at any minute and do
something unexpected. And, that was just a problem, wasn't it? She couldn't do
anything. She certainly couldn't fight them. She was no match for either of
them. Her calls to Brecken were not going through, so what was she supposed to
do? How long did they have to stay here? She didn't want them here anymore!

"Can't you just leave?"
she practically begged, cringing at the sound of her whining voice.
"Please? Can't you just go away and leave me alone?"

The man standing in front of the
door just stared down at her and didn't answer. He didn't have to. She turned
and walked back to the couch, picking up her phone from the coffee table.

"You said you weren't able to
get through to Brecken," the man standing by the window said.

"I'm not calling Brecken,"
she snapped at him.

"Who are you calling?" the
other guard asked, moving away from the front door.

She punched in three numbers.
"I'm calling the police." She had just lifted the phone to her ear
when the guard by the window reached her side. He snatched the phone from her
fingers and pressed the end button. She shot to her feet. "What the hell
do you think you're doing?" She reached for her phone but he held it away
from her.

"You can’t call the
police," he said.

"And, why the hell not?"
she demanded. "You're keeping me here against my will!"

"It's your apartment," he
shrugged. "You want to go somewhere else?"

That gave her pause. "Can
I?"

He glanced at his partner. "It
depends where you want to go."

Fighting back tears of frustration,
she threw up her hands. "I just want to go outside, maybe for a walk, just
to get out of here. I don't know what the hell is going on, and you guys are
making me nervous."

They said nothing.

"I swear to you, if I can’t get
out of this apartment, I'm going to freak. And, you don’t want to see me
freak.” She didn't think she would, but she was losing her sense of control,
and she didn't know what she would do. She knew if she started screaming,
someone in the apartment building would hear her, wouldn’t they? Call the
police?

Not only was she worried about her
own safety, but she was worried about her parents. They wouldn't let her call
them, either. So why did they even allow her to keep her phone? To call
Brecken, who wasn't answering his calls? She watched as the guard tossed her
phone back down on the couch. She eyed it and then him. He was staring at her,
his gaze inscrutable.
What the hell?

"You want to go outside? Okay,
we can go outside, but only toward the back of the apartment building. Not on
the street."

"Fine!" she snapped.

She followed one of the
"bodyguards” as he returned to the front door. The other one followed. She
was in the middle between them. They made their way out of the apartment. To
her surprise, they didn't walk to the elevator, but rather toward the stairs,
which was fine with her because she didn't want to take the elevator anyway,
the gravelly old claptrap.

Her heart pounded. Should she try to
make a run for it? Could she get away? She doubted it. They looked muscular,
strong, and more than capable. She, on the other hand, wasn't. Oh, she was fit
enough, but not enough to outrun these two.

The sound of their footsteps echoed
dully in the stairwell as they made their way down three floors to ground
level. Exiting into the carport underneath the building, the guard in front of
her lead the way up a cement ramp toward what she knew to be the north side of
the building, away from the main entrance and parking spaces out front.

It was just about dusk. She was
amazed that so much time had passed. Yes, the minutes had dragged by, but had
she really spent nearly the entire day locked in her apartment with these two
goons?

She looked toward the rear of the
building and her eyes widened in surprise. Brecken was nowhere to be seen, but
she did see Alyson walking up the sidewalk toward them. She glanced at the two
men, dismissed them, and glared at Heather.

Heather was in a foul enough mood to
return her glare.
What a bitch
.

The guards stopped; Heather standing
between them. She stared at Alyson, who gave her a discerning and highly
critical body check. Annoyed beyond belief, she straightened her back and again
returned the favor. Alyson merely smirked.

"Where's Brecken?" Alyson
suddenly demanded.

Heather stared at her in surprise,
nearly choked out a laugh. "How the hell should I know where Brecken
is?" She was downright angry now and didn't care what kind of a tone she
was using. In fact, she didn't care what Alyson had to say. Brecken had assured
her that the other woman couldn't fire her. That she was a vindictive bitch was
an understatement. Still, she didn't have any control over Heather's
employment. Besides, she was seriously contemplating quitting anyway. She
didn't need this crap.

Alyson placed her hand on her lower
abdomen. "Where's Brecken?” she repeated. “You may think you’re his new
girlfriend, but you’re not. You’re nothing but a plaything. He loves me. Always
has and always will. But he’ll learn that if he isn't going to agree to take
care of his baby, then I'm not going to guarantee his safety."

What?
"What did you say?" Heather asked, feeling a cold sensation rush
through her.
Baby
? Alyson was
pregnant? Her first thought was pity for any child raised in Alyson's shadow.
Her second was pain. Brecken was going to be a father? Back at the Bed and
Breakfast, when he had opened up to her, told her about his dealings, he had
left out that very important fact?

Alyson laughed. "Let me guess.
While you and Brecken were up at that quaint little bed and breakfast fucking
each other on the floor of his room, he neglected to tell you that he was going
to be a father?"

Heather found it difficult to keep
up with every word she said. How did she know that she and Brecken had been at
the bed and breakfast? In fact, how did she know that they had had sex? Was she
the one behind her being followed? She felt horrified. "Are you behind
this? You're behind the guy that's been following me?"

Alyson gave her an impatient look.
"I don't know what the hell you're talking about, you little bitch. But
I'll tell you one thing. You can't have Brecken. He’s mine!"

Heather felt sick to her stomach.
Alyson was pregnant and Brecken was the father? She blinked rapidly, trying to
hold back tears. So much for Brecken being open and honest with her. She had
succumbed to such an instant attraction to Brecken when she knew next to
nothing about him. Was everything he had told her a lie? A way to get her to
have sex with him? But why? Brecken could have sex with anybody he wanted. He
certainly didn't need it from her.

Suddenly, Alyson reached for her.
One of the guards stepped in front of her, keeping Alyson away.

"Miss Burk,” he said, holding
out a hand. It touched Alyson’s shoulder. She stared up at him in amazement.

"How dare you touch me?"
she snapped at him.

Heather watched in stunned dismay as
Alyson made to move around the guard. Were they going to have a catfight in the
middle of the sidewalk on the side of her apartment building? She took a step
back, unconsciously balling her hands into fists, just in case. She bumped into
the solid form of the guard behind her.

Suddenly, Alyson took a step back
and smirked. She turned to look over her shoulder.

"Josh! Colin!"

In seconds, a black car pulled into
the alleyway along the side of her apartment building. It screeched to a stop
near them. She stared in frozen fear as three men dressed in black suits and
holding guns emerged. Her bodyguards suddenly pushed Heather behind them and
stood shoulder to shoulder, blocking her view of the men emerging from the
black sedan.

Suddenly, there was chaos. Ear
shattering gunfire. Shouts. Heather screamed, covered her head with her hands
and ducked, crouching low against the side of the building behind her guards.
Over the gunfire, she heard Alyson laughing. She heard a cry of pain from one
of the bodyguards, and the next instant, he was down on the ground in front of
her, bleeding from a bullet wound in his head. She stared in shock, and then
screamed again. The other guard went down after taking a bullet in the
shoulder. Eyes wide with terror, she stared at the three men standing in front
of the sedan. Where the hell was Alyson? Then, out of the corner of her eye,
she saw sudden movement.

Alyson stood just off to the side,
pointing a small, silver gun at her. She knew she couldn’t run, couldn't
escape. She would be shot down just like her bodyguards had been. She watched
in wordless horror as one of the three men who had emerged from the sedan
quickly moved toward the fallen bodyguards, grabbing their weapons away from
their hands. She knew that one of them was dead, but still saw the pulse
throbbing in the other one's throat, even though he was unconscious.

The man pointed his gun down at the
guard who was still alive.

“No!” she screamed. The man ignored
her and fired two quick shots both to the head. Heather screamed again. Warm
blood and something sticky spattered onto her face. Adrenaline surged through
her. She felt vomit rising in her throat. Then, under Alyson's eye, the other
two men reached forward, stepping over the fallen guards to grab at Heather.
They yanked her to her feet, but she felt wobbly, like her legs were made of
spaghetti.

She tried to fight them off, all the
while realizing that her fists were nothing more than a nuisance to them. They
didn't shoot her. It was then she realized that they weren't going to kill her
– at least, not yet. Her ears rang. The blood pounded through her veins so hard
she wondered why her heart didn't burst. And over it all, she heard Alyson's
sudden burst of laughter.

She turned to look at Alyson, amazed
that she was capable of such violence. She saw Alyson swinging her arm, still
holding the gun in her hand. She wasn't quick enough to halt the blow. The butt
of the gun smashed down onto the side of her head.