Billionaire Season 3: Summer Ablaze (Billionaire Season Trilogy) (9 page)

Allie stirred on the cot and her eyes flickered open. She saw William looming above her holding a gun to Beth’s head and a tear trickled down the side of her face as she felt the cold steel of the blade at her throat.

“Hawk, listen to me,” William said, he exhaled at last when Allie’s eyes opened and he backed up a step to try and reason or beg for Allie’s life. “Let her go and I’ll send her away, I’ve made a terrible mistake. You can come live in the new house with me, run my life again, just like before. But let her go, she hasn’t done anything to you.”

“Hasn’t done anything to me? The little bitch took you away from me. It was only a matter of time until you would have realized you love me just like I love you, William. You made a mistake, that’s all. This little nobody trapped you didn’t she? You married her because she got knocked up. Girls like that, they’re a dime a dozen. Tell her you don’t love her William, tell her now or I’ll cut her belly open and remove the little seed you planted,” Beth’s voice was wavering and more frantic by the minute, her eyes darted between William and Walden and the police chief. She moved the razor quickly, and swiped a shallow, neat X near Allie’s naval and blood ran down her sides and belly.

“Stop. Fuck. I don’t love her, goddammit. I don’t love you, Allie, do you hear me? Now come over here with me, Hawk, please, come with me, we’ll leave this place and go home.”

“We’ll have to leave the city, William, I might be in trouble because of this stupid girl. How do I know you mean what you just said? Prove to me that you love me and not her. You’ll do anything for Walden won’t you? You should have let him have her for good, now it’s going to cost the both of you. I want you to kill your brother, don’t look so fucking shocked, I want proof that you love me. You kill him and we’ll have to run away, we’ll both be in trouble then. Shoot your fucking brother or I will gut this girl right here on this stinking mattress!” Beth screamed and Walden walked toward William and said, “Do what she said, Wills.”

Allie fought against her restraints and tried to cry out and William lifted the gun and pulled the trigger. The force of the bullet threw Walden back several feet before he crumpled to the floor with blood spilling out around him.

“You do love me!” Beth said and she rose from the bed and wrapped her arms around William.

“No. I don’t.” He said, lifting the gun to her head as he stared at his brother’s body on the floor and then at his pregnant wife. Allie was wide-eyed with horror as she stared at him, and the police chief was talking a mile a minute, telling William to drop the gun or face the consequences, did he want to go to prison or go home with his wife. William let out a long sigh, turned the barrel of the gun away from Beth’s head and knocked her unconscious with a swift blow from the butt of the weapon.

William took the knife from Beth’s hand and cut Allie lose and she fell against him, held tightly in his comforting arms, wailing, her tears flowing down his chest as her face pressed into him. He held and rocked her and whispered that it was over, everything would be fine, he’d make sure no one would ever hurt her again, he should have already hired a fucking bodyguard.

When Allie could finally speak she assured him she was alright, Beth hadn’t hurt her, not yet, she’d just slipped a tranquilizer of some sort into a cup of tea.

“Perfect shot,” the chief said as he helped Walden sit up and examined the bullet hole in his shoulder. “The round went straight through, he’ll live and have a helluva story to tell. The ambulance is on its way and my men should be here any minute. I think I’ll fire every damn one of them, slow sons-of-bitches should have been here before us.”

“Don’t blame them, William’s a fucking good driver and he’s got a damn good memory for the trails through these swamps.”

“Yeah well, some things stay seared into your memory, but I think we should let them go, little brother. How about you fix it so we never have to think of this place again,” William said, taking off his shirt and helping Allie put it on as sirens echoed in the woods outside the shack.

“Will do,” Walden said, and as soon as William carried Allie out to the ambulance he told the chief to go with them, he was okay and he’d be right out.

There were two kerosene lamps lighting the interior of the shack and although Walden’s shoulder hurt like a motherfucker and had started to bleed again, he shook off the pain and let the adrenaline of that old fear carry him. He emptied the kerosene from the lamps onto the wooden walls and floor and soaked the cot’s mattress, then he flicked his lighter and tossed it flaming into the middle of the room as he walked out the door.

Walden let a paramedic patch up his shoulder but he refused to leave even after the ambulance and the line of police cars were long gone. Allie was fine, the paramedics had said, and she and William were melded together in an unending embrace, talking and laughing and calculating how many months it would be until they’re baby arrived. Beth Hawkins was taken into custody and there was no doubt that she would go to jail or a high security mental facility for a long, long time—probably for life if William Warfield exerted his influence in the State of Louisiana.

Ah, it was a beautiful thing indeed to know that bad memories were going up in flames and soon would be nothing more than a pile of ashes. Walden got in his truck and drove away from the Bayou Lafourche, he wasn’t ever coming back again, no need to. In the rearview mirror he watched the fire that consumed the shack burning so bright it made the black, midnight sky appear to be ablaze.

EPILOGUE

“I have a definite plan for The Cathedral, Walden. You’ve created a marvel and now the possibilities for growth and expansion into other cities and venues are extraordinary. With my firm hand and clear mind in control of the business end you’ll be free to concentrate on the… hmm, shall we say, the utterly filthy,   decadent heart that beats within these sordid walls. Now if you’ll unshackle my wrists and ankles, please. I have better things to do than to perform fellatio on your cock and watch you come all over my tits,” Eleanor Selig said as she lay handcuffed to Walden’s bed while listening to him hum a happy tune next to her.

“You know, Ellie, you sure as hell have one dirty, pretty mouth in that prim, proper face of yours.”

“Unlock these cuffs you sadistic asshole! I have somewhere to be this evening, you think your cock is all I think about, all I have time for? There are foreign clients interested in membership and I’m due to speak with them by phone in less than an hour. Don’t worry, I’m following your requisite safety guidelines—background checks, personal, financial, and criminal are all in the works,” she said, springing out of bed the second he freed her and rubbing her throbbing wrists. “I’m keeping one hand free from now on, you’re a fucking animal. Hand me a towel… oh forget it! I need a shower to wash your stink off.”

“So I take it we’re not gonna fuck anymore? It’s gotten too rough for you, Ellie? Fine, if you can’t take the heat stay away from the fire,” he said, catching her just above the red mark on her wrist and pulling her body against his. “I did make quite a mess on you, didn’t I? So that’s it, no more bedroom games? I’m cool with that if you are.”

She reached up and twisted her fingers in his hair, dragging his mouth down to meet hers. She bit his lower lip and then her tongue darted out to catch a drop of blood before he kissed her long and deep until she sagged against him.

“I’m sorry if you’re upset with me beautiful Eleanor. Let me bathe you, I’ll make it all better and then you can get to your business calls, partner.”

“Sounds sweet, Walden, but I have a full day today and a delicate personal matter to attend to tomorrow that doesn’t have a thing to do with you.”

“Now what could be going on in your life that doesn’t concern me, are you fucking some of our clients, I’m cool with that, whatever floats your boat.”

“Well if you must know, my daughter is coming to town and I categorically do not want her to know the true reason I’m staying on in New Orleans. She’s young and impressionable—barely nineteen, she was born the second year I was in college, which is neither here nor there. Her father was a one night stand and he’s long gone. So, I have to entertain my child for a few days and convince her all is well and send her back to school in Geneva. Violette is my daughter’s name and don’t even begin to entertain the idea that you will ever meet her, do you understand what I’m saying? If you so much as speak to her I will perform that vasectomy you’ve been dreaming of, but I will do it without the use of anesthesia.”

Eleanor showered and dressed, spoke with the foreign clients and walked through the first floor salons making sure that all was in order before she went to meet her daughter.

“Get out of my way you antiseptic smelling whore,” Abigail said, as she burst through the front door, pushing past Eleanor Selig and mounting the stairs to look for Walden.

“Mon dieu! Stop right there! Are you insane? Mr. Warfield no longer has any interest in your… companionship, and I can assure you that he and I have a legally binding business agreement and neither one of us have any wish to terminate our partnership,” Dr. Selig was so shocked to see Walden’s former lover that she stood motionless near the open front door of The Cathedral until Abigail suggested that she close it before the general public wandered in.

“Good for you, but are you certain he doesn’t want to see me? Who do you suppose gave me the key to come in here and resume my duties?”

“Where on earth did you get that keycard, did you steal it? It wouldn’t surprise me in the least. Walden doesn’t wish to see any women now, he’s… still suffering feelings of inadequacy since the girl he loves married his brother,” Eleanor said, grasping for straws until she figured out how to get rid of Abigail.

“Dr. Selig—or should I say,
former
doctor—I have a feeling today’s definitely not going to be your favorite day.” Abigail said, stepping off the stairs and returning to the foyer to face Eleanor Selig. “You see, Allie Darling is one thing, she was an innocent bystander who caught Walden’s fancy for a while. You’re quite another and I’m here to see that you pack up your crotchless panties and take your bony doctor-turned-dominatrix ass back to the fucking Alps or wherever you came from. If not, at least keep your hands and mouth and other parts off Walden’s cock, understood? He gets a little off course from time to time, Dr. Selig, and it seems like you do too. But here’s a news flash for you, I had a heart to heart with Walden at his brother’s wedding and chere, I’m back to stay.” 

“Is that right?” Eleanor huffed. “Well I’d like to hear it straight from Walden. Abigail, you’d better go sit down in one of the salons and let me have a few minutes alone with Walden.”

“Alright, but I
will
bitch-slap you into last month when your scrawny carcass was still in Switzerland if I don’t get to see Walden, and I mean quick,” Abigail said and crossed her arms menacingly, she was tiny but she was fierce.

“Oh, there you are Walden, this… person would like to speak with you and then I’m sure you’ll collect the keycard from her and send her on her way,” Eleanor said.

“I don’ think so doc, Abigail stated her case to me at my brother’s wedding and she made a valid point—she did help me build The Cathedral from the ground up. I am nothing if not a Southern gentleman, we’re gonna make this a three-way,” He laughed as both their mouths dropped open. “A three-way business partnership, man, you two have dirty minds. Although, the other three-way sounds good, too, we’ll have to give it a try, between partners, it’s only fair. In fact I think we should write it into the bylaws, whadaya say, are you in or out?”

“Fine with me, I’ll watch the two of you if I’m forced to, but no way I’m touching that ice-cold bitch,” Abigail said, feeling like she was home at last, as if the sexy, sordid world of The Cathedral and Walden Warfield were exactly where she belonged.

“I’ll do it if I’m forced to,” Eleanor said and she looked Abigail over and thought it might be rather interesting.

“Good,” Walden said. “This shows tremendous dedication to our partnership. It’s easy to make a verbal agreement but harder to follow through, so let’s go up to my room and see how it works”

Later, when he left Eleanor and Abigail were asleep on his bed, Walden showered and dressed in black jeans and black V neck t-shirt and headed out to the streets of New Orleans. He thought of going to the Quarter or over to the Garden District to pay a visit to the lovebirds, but he wasn’t up for either. Night time in the Quarter meant there was nothing but loud, sloppy drunks and even drunker sorority girls ready to fuck anyone, anywhere. Allie and William’s house meant overflowing joy and constant discussions about bottles versus breastfeeding and what color to paint the nursery. He liked both, but not tonight.

He walked along thinking about The Cathedral, it was gaining a serious cult following from the wealthiest and most depraved party-goers from Europe to China and other cities and countries he’d never heard of. He had loved Allie and lost, loved her angel’s face and innocent sweet/spicy essence. But the sting of loss had faded rather quickly and paying plenty of attention to the needs of his cock was good medicine.

The
Countess Warfield
loomed in front of him, he had found his way down to the waterfront without giving it any thought.

“Warfield, good to see you,” an old friend of the family waved for him to join his table in the lobby bar. Walden hated the guy, they’d played football together in high school and he was a has-been who liked to relive his glory days with anyone who would listen.

Just as Walden resigned himself to sit down and be bored to death, a young woman caught his eye. She was incomparably beautiful and young, a mere girl of eighteen or nineteen, most likely. She had hair the color of a raven’s wing, blue-black, thick and glossy, in a choppy cut that was very chic and hung to her shoulders. She was shifting from foot to foot and arguing with a testy hotel clerk at the front desk. The clerk assured her that a room had not been reserved in her name. Walden leaned against the counter a few feet from the girl and when she lifted her pale-blue eyes to look at him, his heart began to hammer in his chest.

“Can I be of service, chere?” He asked and a little laugh escaped her bee-stung lips.

“
Shar
? Is that how you say it here in the city of New Orleans?”

“Ah, you’re French? Yes that’s the way we say it, just like you say “Nyu-Or-Leeeenz” so who’s right and who’s wrong?”

“We’re both right, I suppose. But this clerk isn’t right, my mother reserved a room for me and I know this must be the right place, she mentioned the name Warfield many times.”

“And you are Violette, I assume?” He said and the girl’s eyes opened wide and he thought he might easily drown in their cool depths.

“Vee-Oh-Let,” she corrected, and he just shook his head and said he’d just call her Vy-let.

“Fix this young lady up with one of the large suites, please,” he said to the clerk and when she said, “Absolutely, Mr. Warfield,” Violette’s eyes grew wide once more.

“So that’s how it works down here in the South? Why did my mother send you to meet me, Mr. Warfield? It isn’t like her to entrust my wellbeing to a stranger.”

“Well, I’m not a stranger to her,” he said and he took the room key from the clerk and handed it to the girl.

“Have a nice stay, Violette, maybe we’ll meet again someday,” he said, not wanting to leave this beautiful creature, but she was young and her mother would probably make good on the “no anesthesia” threat.

“I’m alone in the Big Easy tonight, are you gentleman enough to take pity and show me the sights?” She said, catching his arm and running her hand over his massive bicep.

“How old are you? Too young to drink, I’ll bet, and that’s what people do in this city,” he said but her thin, cool hand felt like magic as it massaged his arm and she led him toward the hotel exit.

“I’m old enough for lots of things besides drinking alcohol, why don’t you show me, Warfield? Show me all that’s new and exotic.”

“Alright, Violette. As long as you’re sure. Did anyone ever tell you that you look like an angel?’ He said, and her hand left his arm and rested on the unhealed claw marks on his cheek.

“Poor, poor thing,” she whispered. “Someone should take better care of a beautiful man like you.”

He covered her hand with his and held the cool tips of her fingers to the fevered wound. “Yes,” he said, “you could definitely be my angel.”

END