Billionaire Decoded (6 page)

After three laps around the track,
he pulled into the pit stop and then glanced at Heather. Soon, another car
raced around the track past them, engine roaring. She stared straight ahead,
her hands tightly grasping the harness that strapped her into her seat. Then,
she glanced at him, eyes wide.

"Oh my God, that was amazing!"

He laughed and nodded.

"While I certainly don't find
it relaxing, I could see how it might appeal to you."

"Do you really?"

"Well, it's not exactly what I
would've thought as a mode of relaxation, but it certainly does get the
adrenaline going and the immediacy of it does prevent other distracting
thoughts from coming into play, doesn't it?"

"Exactly," he grinned.

He unbuckled his harness and came
around to her side of the car and then unbuckled hers, as well. He helped her
out, and then gestured toward the low building a short distance away.
"There's a bench over there. Let's sit down for a minute, let you get your
land legs under you again."

She laughed. "You saw my wobbly
knees, didn't you?"

She captivated him. Nothing seemed
to faze her, and she had this unique ability to laugh at herself.
How utterly refreshing
, he thought. They
sat down on the bench as he removed his jacket, pulling his phone from the
pocket and placing it on top so that it wouldn't fall out or inadvertently get
sat on.

"I try to get out here at least
once a week to blow off stress," he commented.

Heather said nothing, but merely
nodded as she glanced around the track, the spotlights that lit it up every
fifty feet or so, the buildings around it, and the darkness that encompassed
them. She didn't seem uncomfortable, but he didn't want to prolong the evening
to the point that she would. "If you'll excuse me, I just need to hit the
restroom, and then I'll be back to take you home."

She nodded. "All right. I'll
just sit here while you're gone and try to get my heart rate down."

He laughed as he walked away from
the bench, shaking his head. Beautiful. Smart. Funny. There was something about
Heather that was irresistible. So down to earth. So…
normal
. He quickly
used the bathroom and then returned to the bench, only to find Heather's
demeanor different from when he had left. In fact, she seemed to be flustered
and angry. He frowned. He saw the she held a phone.

"What's wrong?"

Without saying anything, she turned
the phone in her hand to show him. He realized it was his phone. On the screen
was an image of an impressive cleavage. Beneath it was a text message in all
caps:
Call me back. I'm warning you
.

"Heather-"

She handed the phone back to him and
he took it. She stood with her arms crossed her arms over her chest. "I
don't know quite how to put this, Bracken, but I'm just going to say it. I’m
not up for grabs. I have no desire to become someone’s plaything. You hired me
to do a job and I'm going to do it. Nothing more. Just don't expect any racy
pictures from me anytime soon."

He frowned, baffled. "I don't
understand, Heather. I haven't done anything to offend you have I?"

"Can you explain that?" she
said, gesturing to the phone.

"That's Alyson," he
sighed. "My ex-fiancée, remember? My business partner. I already told you
she's crazy. She leaves me text messages like that all the time. I typically
just delete them."

She seemed to hesitate and then
looked down at the ground. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed-"

"Don't apologize, Heather,"
he said. "The truth is, I am attracted to you, but I certainly understand
if you want to keep our relationship professional. But before you do make that
decision, I want to do one thing."

"And, what's that?"

"I want to kiss you."

He leaned closer to her, placed his
hands gently on her shoulders, and pressed his lips against hers; so soft. At
first she froze and stiffened in his arms, but then she relaxed, even began to
kiss him back. No tongue, but nevertheless the simple kiss got his blood
racing. He felt his dick began to harden and reluctantly ended the kiss. He
smiled down at her.

"There, I got that out of the
way," he smiled. "Again, I want to tell you that I enjoy your
company, but I'm not going to put any pressure on you. You don't have to worry
about your job if you decide you want to keep a hands-off policy going between
us.”

Heather shifted from one foot to the
other. He could tell that she was taken a bit aback. "Come on, let me get
you home." He ignored the received text message and then texted his
driver, who had pulled up to the front of the private drag strip by the time he
guided Heather through the building and out the front door. They walked side by
side to his car, and then climbed into the back seat.

He gave the driver Heather’s address,
and they sat quietly as the car took a few side streets before taking a ramp
onto the freeway, exiting about fifteen minutes later in her neighborhood. They
didn’t speak, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. Occasionally, he glanced
at Heather. She seemed quiet, contemplative. He hoped he hadn't come on too
strong. By the time they pulled up to her apartment building, he had decided he
wouldn't kiss her again. That might be overdoing it. To his surprise, she
glanced at him with what he could only describe as curiosity. Did she want him
to kiss her again? He couldn't tell.

"I had a nice time,” she said.
“Thank you for taking me there."

Her voice seemed a little stiff,
cordial almost. "I had a nice time, too, Heather. You’re good company. I'd
love to take you out for a Valentine’s dinner. What do you say? No one as
pretty as you should be alone on Valentine's Day."

She appeared to be thinking about
it. "Can I give you an answer tomorrow?"

He was rather surprised by that, but
he grinned and shrugged. "Of course." He got out of the car and then
came around the back and opened the door on her side. He didn't move from the
car, but stood there with her for a moment, feeling awkward, which rather
surprised him. He felt like he was out on his first date with his first girl.
"Well, thanks again for joining me, and I guess I'll see you at the office
tomorrow."

Again, she seemed to hesitate, gave
him an odd look, and then nodded. "Goodnight, Brecken," she said and
turned and walked toward the main doors of her apartment building.

He got back into the car, waited
just long enough to make sure that she got inside her building okay, and then
told his driver to take him home. His blood boiled. That message had not been
from Alyson. Alyson wasn't his only problem. That message could ruin his life.
It could put him in jail, for good.

His past kept coming up to haunt him.
That message had originated from a very bad man. A very bad man who didn't get intimidated,
but one who rather preferred to do the intimidating. He came from Bolivia. Just
thinking about him made Brecken uncomfortable, and he was used to dealing with
a lot of different people.

Still, there was something about the
Bolivian that literally chilled his blood.

The traffic on Monday morning was
horrid. Well, at least more horrid than usual. There was some kind of accident
between a delivery truck, a taxi, and an SUV. Traffic was backed up at least
four stoplights before Heather would have asked the driver to drop her off on
the east side of her building. She decided she might as well just get out and
walk. She said as much to the driver and asked how much she owed him. After he
told her, she dug in her wallet, gave him a fare and a tip and then got out.

She quickly stepped onto the
sidewalk and began to walk, thinking that it was a lovely morning that she
didn’t mind. The air was brisk and sharp, but she knew that spring was just
around the corner. She was ready. At any rate, she decided that she would enjoy
the walk. She might be a couple of minutes late to work, but not much, if at
all. She glanced around; admiring the way the early morning sun glinted off the
sides of the buildings, her eyes passing over a number of pedestrians already
on the street.

Some looked like they were on their
way to work or school, carrying briefcases, satchels, and backpacks, while
others looked to be just enjoying time with friends or family, sipping coffee,
checking text messages on their phones, and generally enjoying what the morning
had to bring.

Heather's gaze passed over a tall
man holding a camera aimed in her direction. Wait. Could that possibly be the
same man she had seen a couple of days earlier when she had been taking care of
errands? She glanced behind her to see what was going on but she saw nothing
unusual, just pedestrians like her, minding their own business. Could he
actually be taking pictures of her? She saw a Starbucks on the corner and
decided that she would pop in, get a cup of coffee, and see if the man was
still lurking about when she emerged.

She ducked into the coffee shop and
joined the line, trying not to appear anxious as she casually glanced over her
shoulder, pretending to look at customers behind her even though she was
actually trying to get a peek out the window toward the opposite side of the
street where she had seen the man before slipping into the coffee shop. By the
time she got to the front counter, she had forgotten why she was there.

"Can I help you?" the
frazzled barista asked, gazing impatiently at her.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Heather
said, quickly glancing up at the menu. Hell, she was already here; she might as
well indulge. "I'll have a tall espresso macchiato," she said.

"Name?"

She stared at him a moment,
surprised, and then remembering that they wrote the customer’s name on the cup.
"Heather."

She quickly paid for her coffee and
then stepped to the side to wait for her coffee, again resisting the urge to
peek over her shoulder. Because the place was so busy, she waited about five
minutes before she heard her name.

“Heather, Espresso Macchiato!”

She stepped to the counter and
grabbed the cup, delaying only long enough to slip the Starbuck’s logo sleeve
on her cup so she wouldn’t burn her hands. She didn't want to be late to work,
but she also needed to know if she was being followed. She had no idea why
someone would want to follow her. Still, in a city this size, it was rather
startling to realize that the man she had seen this morning could indeed be the
same man that she had seen on Saturday.

It was highly unlikely. She shook
her head. She was being foolish. She casually walked out the coffee shop,
carefully sipping her coffee while her gaze quickly perused pedestrians on this
side of the street, and then across. She sighed with relief when she didn't see
the man.

She shook her head, scolding herself
for being so silly when her gaze ventured up the next block. There, just across
the street on the opposite corner, she saw him leaning casually against the
building, near a doorway. His camera was aimed in her direction. Shit. It
was
the same man. Her heart began to trip-hammer in fear as the hair on the back of
her neck stood on end. Why would somebody want to take pictures of her? She had
never noticed it before, so why now?

She quickly continued on to her
building, trying to keep her head down, careful to keep pedestrians between her
and the man taking photographs. She only glanced up a couple of times at
crosswalks, ostensibly checking to make sure that nobody turned the corner when
she stepped into the street. She did get a glimpse of him a couple more times.
He was about twenty feet behind her on the other side of the street. It
appeared to her that he was pretty much doing the same thing as she – trying to
meld into the crowd.

She couldn't fathom why anyone would
take an interest in her. As she reached her building, she could only come to
one conclusion. Was it because she was working here? At Shaw & Burks? She
had never noticed anyone following her before, let alone taking pictures. So
why now, only a few days after she had started working at the computer
programming company?

She felt uncomfortable and just a
little bit frightened. Who was that taking pictures? A private eye? A
competitor? The cops or perhaps someone in the government?
Why?
She didn't know, but the more she thought about it, the more
uneasy she became. She needed to see Brecken, let him know of her concerns. He
probably wouldn't be able to do anything about it, but she needed to tell
someone.

By the time she reached the floor
where her office was located, she was definitely shaken. Without stopping by
her office, even to drop off her purse, she instead changed her mind and took
the elevator up to Brecken's office. His secretary Cynthia Meadows, a woman who
appeared to be in her early forties, sat at her desk in the outer room.
Actually, because Brecken’s office took up nearly the entire northwest corner
of the building on this floor, Cynthia’s office space was open, located about
fifteen feet or so from the elevator doors. She had decorated her space with a
number of potted plants; all looking well cared for, glossy green, and happy.

"Is Mister Shaw in yet?"
Heather asked. "I need to speak to him if he has a couple of
minutes."

The secretary stared at her a moment
and then appeared to remember who she was and nodded. Instead of accessing a
phone line like Heather thought she would, the secretary instead stood, walked
to the inner office door and knocked two times. A deep voice mumbled something
behind the door. The secretary opened the door, went in and closed the door behind
her. Heather shook her head in surprise.

Computer programmers were by nature
a suspicious lot, and she supposed that Brecken preferred face-to-face when it
came to personal business. But inside his own building? He was cautious of
what? Wire taps? Hackers? At any rate, the secretary emerged a moment later and
told her to go right in, Mister Shaw had a few minutes to spare before morning
meetings.

Heather thanked her and then quickly
stepped into his office, closing the door softly behind her. Brecken leaned
back in his chair, smiling.

"Good morning, Heather, is
there something I can help you with?"

"Actually, there is, but I'm
not quite sure…"

"Just spit it out," he
encouraged. He leaned forward and placed his elbows on his desk, his chin
resting on one palm. "That coffee smells wonderful. What is it?"

Coffee? Then she remembered that she
still carried the coffee she had gotten at Starbucks. "Oh, um... it's an
espresso macchiato… Brecken, I think there's a man following me."

He absorbed what she said and frowned.
"What do you mean?"

"On Saturday, when I was
running errands, I saw this tall guy with a camera. He appeared to be taking
pictures of me, or at least, he was aiming in my direction." She shook her
head. "I didn't think much of it…thought he was just a photographer taking
pictures of the crowd or maybe even the buildings." She paused, trying to
gather her thoughts. It was hard when she was looking at someone as handsome as
Brecken. She tore her gaze away from his hair and her admiration for the slant
of his jaw. She blinked as she felt her heartbeat accelerate and this time it
wasn’t from her fears.

He gestured for her to continue.
"Brecken, I saw him again this morning as I was coming to work. I got out
of my taxi early because of the traffic jam. I saw him on the street-”

"Are you sure it was the same
man?" he asked.

He didn't look too concerned. She thought
that maybe she was just overreacting. She pressed on. "Yes, it was the
same man. I even stopped in at Starbucks to wait and see if he moved on, but he
hadn't. He followed me for three blocks." She shook her head, her worry
causing her heartbeat to accelerate again – this time in fear. "Brecken,
I've never had this happen. Why would anyone be following me, let alone taking
pictures-”?

"It's all right, Heather,"
he said, lifting a hand in a calming gesture. "I'll get someone to do some
surveillance, find this guy, determine if he is indeed following you, and
confront him about it."

She frowned. "Just like
that?"

"Just like that," he said.

She wasn't sure whether she felt
better or worse. While she appreciated the fact that Brecken was a man of
action, she also thought it somewhat strange that he would offer to have
someone surveil her when she was out of the building in order to find someone
who she felt was
suspicious
and
taking pictures of her, but with no hard proof to offer him to back up her
claims.

"If that's all, Heather, I
really need to get to my morning meeting," Brecken said, standing.

She shook her head and turned toward
the door. "No, that's all, thank you…"

She opened the door, stepped out,
and after offering a brief nod to the secretary, made her way to the elevator
and her own office. The incident with the photographer was scary enough, but
Brecken's reaction was also startling. She had expected more questions. Perhaps
even a little disbelief, some explanation that what she had seen was something
innocent and explainable. But no, he hadn’t said any of those things.

Why had he so quickly believed her?
She was glad he had, but she had only known him for a short time. If she had
been the boss and some new employee had come up to her and made such a claim,
she might think he was nuts. But not only was he quick to believe that someone
might be following her, but that someone would be taking photographs of her as
well. Had this happened in his company before? She wasn't sure if she wanted to
know the answer to that.

She also started to wonder about
Shaw & Burks. How could she not? Was Shaw & Burks involved in something
secretive? Maybe not illegal, but off enough to garner the attention of
someone? She forced the thoughts – no, the wild imaginings – out of her head
and decided she was allowing her imagination to run away with her. Thinking of
Brecken, she felt that he was the farthest thing from a crook she could
imagine. But how much did she really know about him? Not a lot. Had she allowed
the perks of this job and her expected raise in pay to blind her to red flags
and warning signs? If something is too good to be true, wasn’t it? She didn't want
to think so. She had finally gotten to the point where she felt as if she were
making strides in her life rather than baby steps. This job would allow her to
tuck some money away, start a retirement fund, a pension, and all the perks
that she had worked so long for.

Shaw & Burks was a reputable
company and had clients all the over the world. If they were involved in
something illegal, she would've thought that the FBI, the DEA, hell, even the
CIA or DHS would be all over them. They weren't. Besides, she hadn’t seen
anything mysterious or concerning in the spreadsheets that she had been working
on, except of course, the massive amounts of money that came in and out.

Just because she wasn't used to
working with such large figures didn't at all imply that they were suspicious.
After all, Brecken was a billionaire. A few hundred thousand dollars to him was
a drop in the bucket. Chump change.

She entered her office and sat down
at her desk, placing the now cold Starbucks coffee on the table beside her.
While she did her best to get to work and focus on what she was doing, she
couldn't help but wonder if Brecken had told her everything about his company
that she needed to know.

She couldn't help but get the
feeling that he was not telling her something, and that left her feeling a
little odd. She tried to ignore the uneasy feeling she was getting, determined
not to overreact to something that probably had nothing to do with her
whatsoever. The uncertainty made her stomach knot with tension. That sense of
tension didn't leave, in spite of the fact that she saw no sight of the man
with the camera when she left the building at the end of the day.

*

The week passed. Heather hadn't seen, let
alone talked to Brecken since Monday morning. She didn't see anyone following
her
,
either, although throughout the week she kept glancing over her shoulder
everywhere she went, scanning the streets, shops, and
area
around her apartment
building. To say the thought of someone taking photographs of her left her
feeling a little jumpy was an understatement.