The Missing Billionaire (The Tycoons #2) Read online

  He grumbled and pulled out a rolled up magazine that had been in his jacket pocket. It was one of those popular tabloids. On the front cover in bold letters was written Missing Billionaire, and had his picture plastered across the cover.

  “Apparently,” he said, “the world thought I was missing or they wouldn’t have published this. But now after your display a few minutes ago with everyone taking pictures and videos on their cell phones, I’m quite sure my cover will be blown. No thanks to an FBI agent, of course.”

  She rolled her eyes and tried not to feel embarrassed. Was he right? Would this be all over the media, now? Inwardly, she groaned. Captain Bott would have her badge for sure on this mistake.

  “Unfortunately, the mistake has been made, so now we just need to fix it.” She grasped the handle of his wheelie suitcase. “Come on, let’s go out to my SUV so we can talk in private.”

  His hand gripped the handle, too. His piercing glare challenged her.

  “Sorry, lady, this is your mistake, not mine. I’m getting on that plane and flying to Hawaii for some R and R.”

  Her temper turned hotter. “Hmm... sorry, but you’re not. You’re coming with me.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  Captain Bott is going to kill me! “If you don’t, then I’ll arrest you.”

  He chuckled. “For what?”

  “Resisting an FBI agent, that’s what for.”

  His expression softened slightly and his grin reappeared. “But I didn’t resist you, Agent Lawson. You were the recipient of my kiss, so I’d think you’d know there was no resisting at all.”

  Heat flooded her face, and she was sure it was redder then a ripe tomato. She needed to calm down and talk sensibly to him. That was the only way. Either that or tell him an enormous lie.

  “Zack, the truth is... We have reason to believe a hitman knows where you are.”

  He gave her a nonchalant shrug. “Again? If you remember correctly Agent Lawson, I was shot two months ago, which was why the FBI thought they had to step in and help me.”

  “Of course, I remember. But this time is different. He knows... eh, he knows you’re going to Hawaii. In fact,” she glanced over his shoulder toward the line at the baggage claim section, “he might be one of those people checking in their luggage.”

  “If the hitman is here, why hasn’t he shot me, yet?”

  “Seriously? Out here in the open where everyone could identify him? Yeah, that’s not going to happen. He’s going to wait until you’re in a quiet spot with very few witnesses. So the way I see it, you have two choices. You come with me willingly, or—” she reached behind her and unhooked the handcuffs around her belt and brought them into view, “I’ll cuff you and take you back un-willingly.”

  Zack sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Fine, I’ll go with you, but,” he stepped closer, bringing his face a half-inch away from hers, “you, or the FBI, owes me a first-class ticket to Hawaii.”

  She couldn’t stop the snort coming from her laugh. “Yeah, okay. Like you’re going to miss a couple hundred dollars from all your billions.”

  Pushing past him, she led the way out of the terminal. Neither of them spoke as they neared her SUV, which happened to be closer than his truck.

  “My truck is just over there,” he said.

  She nodded. “And we’ll pick it up later.”

  “No,” his voice turned sharp, “we’ll pick it up now.”

  Just as she opened her mouth to argue, gunshots popped through the air from out of nowhere. Her first instinct was to protect Zack. She grasped his arm, and pulled him down, ducking behind a parked car. She fished in the back of her slacks to pull out the gun from her holster.

  “Keep down,” she instructed, and she was relieved Zack did as he was told this time.

  With the gun in her hand, she peeked over the edge of the car. Whoever was shooting at them was hiding really well.

  She glanced toward her SUV. Only two vehicles away. They could get there. She’d make sure they arrived safely.

  She reached into her pocket and pulled out the keys, and then clicked the remote to unlock the doors. “On the count of three,” she said in a quiet voice, “we’re going to run to that black SUV. Got it?”

  “Yes.”

  She counted it out, and together they darted toward the SUV. More gunfire came from one direction, but thankfully, they made it to the vehicle and hopped inside.

  As quickly as she could, she started the car and took off. Seconds later, a white truck came into view, barreling toward them, picking up speed.

  Her heart sank. Out here in the airport parking, where were they going to hide?

  TWO

  Zack struggled to fasten his seatbelt. The difficulty didn’t come from the crazy driver of the SUV speeding away from the shooter, but it came from the stinging pain in his arm as his limb gradually numbed. He didn’t dare look. He already knew the verdict.

  He’d been shot.

  It wasn’t the first time a hitman had tried to end his life, but he’d hoped to never have to endure this agony again. The first time he was shot was in his leg. Being a physical guy, he didn’t let it slow him down as he ran out of the restaurant after being caught in the mob’s crossfire. The authorities had explained that the gunman hadn’t been targeting Zack, but he’d known better. Because of what he’d witnessed and overheard the senator say during a supposedly private meeting, Zack’s life was in jeopardy.

  Agent Lawson grumbled and stomped her foot on the gas pedal, and at the same time, made a sharp turn. His injured arm bumped against the door. He clenched his teeth against the pain. His long-sleeved shirt was quickly getting soaked with blood. But he couldn’t say anything. It was more important that they get away from the white truck following them.

  Overhead, an airplane with a very loud engine flew by. Agent Lawson’s gaze jumped all around – from the parking lot to her rearview mirrors, and then to the road ahead. Zack figured she was searching for someplace to hide, but of course, they were in the wrong location for that.

  The more his shirt-sleeve soaked with his blood, the colder his body turned. He rested his hand on his lap but still didn’t dare to look down at the damage.

  Up ahead, a car slowly pulled out of a parking lot. “Watch out!” Zack shouted, pointing toward the vehicle.

  Agent Lawson sucked in a quick breath, yanking on the steering wheel. The SUV jerked to the side, barely missing the other car backing into their lane. Zack glanced behind them. The white truck following them screeched to a stop barely in time before it hit the other car.

  The SUV tilted again around another bend, now heading for the tollbooth. On his side of the road, was the entrance to an underground parking. That would be the perfect place to hide for now.

  “Turn there,” Zack instructed, pointing toward the entrance quickly coming upon them.

  She threw him a scowl. “No. I want to get out of here. Not hide.”

  She focused back on the road in front of her, periodically checking the mirror to see if the white truck was gaining on them again. Zack growled. Stubborn woman! He grabbed the steering wheel and pulled it to the right toward the underground parking.

  “Stop it,” she snapped.

  He hung onto the steering wheel, ignoring her protest. Once inside, she slowed the SUV. Blinking, he tried to adjust his sight to the sudden change from brightness to semi-darkness.

  “Over there.” He pointed. “Park there.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding. That’s the first place the gunman will look.” She glared at him as she drove up another level.

  This woman irritated him more than he could imagine. Of course, the pain in his arm wasn’t making him a pleasant person, either. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked accusingly.

  She huffed. “If you can’t tell by now, I’m the driver. You’re the passenger. So, shut up and let me drive.”

  “I don’t care if you’re the driver. You’re going to get us both killed.”

 
Ignoring him, she continued at a slower speed, looking for someplace to park. Up ahead was an empty spot in front of a cement column. As she pressed on the brake to turn, he yanked on the wheel again, moving the SUV away from the spot.

  “Are you blind?” he snapped. “If you park there, we’ll be closed in.”

  Agent Lawson’s expression tightened. “Listen to me,” she glared at him. “I’m an FBI agent. I know what I’m doing, so let me drive.”

  He leaned closer to her. “And I know my way around parking garages. Park there, instead.” He pointed to an empty spot. “That way, you’ll have a better view of the truck if it comes this way. And...” He pointed to the road, “you won’t be blocked in like you’d be if you had parked in front of that cement column.”

  She pulled in the empty stall he had indicated and turned off the engine. He sighed, knowing he wouldn’t have to argue with her about that any longer.

  “We really need to make one thing clear,” she said angrily, turning to pierce him with her scowl, but as soon as she took a breath to continue, her gaze dropped to his arm. She gasped. “You’re bleeding.”

  “Yeah. I was shot.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” She pulled back her seat and reached underneath.

  “Well, you were a little busy trying to get us away from that truck.”

  She withdrew a first aid kit. She reached toward him, but then shook her head before climbing out of the SUV and hurrying to his side. He opened the door. Looking over his bloody arm made him cringe.

  “Do you know where you were shot?” she asked.

  “Just below my shoulder.”

  She groaned. “Take off your shirt. We might need it to use as a tourniquet.”

  She assisted him in removing his jacket. Then, with his left hand, he started to unbutton his shirt, but dizziness assailed him from the loss of blood, making him weak. Silently, he commanded himself to stay alert, but for some reason, his body didn’t want to listen.

  “Here, let me do it.” Her voice came out higher than normal.

  Agent Lawson practically ripped his shirt open. He wanted to chuckle but didn’t have the energy. That was the first time a woman had ripped off his shirt, and he wished he could actually enjoy it right now.

  Staring at the FBI agent’s worried face, he realized that she was rather pretty in her own little way. She had her long, straight brown hair in a ponytail, and she didn’t wear a lot of make-up – if any at all – unlike most women he knew. But she had the cutest little nose, and her lips weren’t so bad, either. In fact, the kiss they’d shared earlier was still on his mind. She also had very pretty hazel eyes. Right now, they were more brown than they were green.

  She must have ripped his shirt into pieces without him realizing it, but as she wrapped one of the strips around his upper arm, relief eased his mind. Agent Lawson knew what she was doing, and he wouldn’t die under her care. At least not this time.

  Once the tourniquet was in place, she ripped open a bandage and some ointment packets. Using a wet-wipe, she tried to clean off the blood. After she was finished with that, she applied the bandages, wrapping the gauze around his arm tightly.

  Her pretty hazel gaze lifted and met his stare. She offered a weak smile. He didn’t have the strength to return the gesture.

  “How are you holding up?” she asked.

  “Well, I’m still talking to you, right?”

  She nodded. “Yes, and I want you to keep talking, even if you feel like arguing again. At least I’ll know you’re still conscious.”

  He chuckled lightly. “Oh, believe me, I can definitely do that.”

  “Good.” She focused back on wrapping the bandage.

  “So, Agent Lawson, did you really think you could outrun that truck?”

  Her pretty eyes lifted and met his stare again. “Yes... And call me Whitney.”

  “Whitney? That’s really your name?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “You don’t look like a Whitney.”

  She arched her well-shaped eyebrow. “And how are women with that name supposed to look?”

  “Like... a hot babe.” He chuckled weakly.

  Laughing, she shook her head. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I skipped the hot babe class in college and went directly to the more intellectual courses.”

  He liked the fact that she enjoyed teasing. He could definitely become used to this. “I’m sorry you didn’t pass those courses. I’m sure they would have made you a better FBI agent.”

  The humor of the situation disappeared in her eyes. She scowled and tightened the wrap around his arm. So perhaps he shouldn’t have been so rude.

  “For your information, I aced every single class.”

  “My apologies. I was trying to joke with you.”

  “Whatever.” She moved back and closed the door. Moments later, she climbed in the driver’s seat. “By the way, the bullet passed right through your arm. As long as the bleeding stops, you should be all right.”

  “Thanks... Doc.”

  She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I’m not a doctor.”

  “What’s a shortened name for agent?”

  “There isn’t one,” she snapped and looked out the window, watching closely as vehicles entered.

  She didn’t say much for the next few minutes. Of course, he wasn’t really in the mood for conversation, either. At least he wasn’t bleeding to death.

  “You’d probably like to know,” she finally said without looking his way, “that we’re stuck in here now.”

  “Why? Are you out of gas?”

  When she tossed him another glare, he realized that he enjoyed seeing her temper. It was fun to get her riled.

  “No, I’m not out of gas.” She motioned toward the entrance of the parking. “Because now the gunman will be waiting for us to leave.”

  “Unless he doesn’t know we’re hiding,” he reasoned.

  “Of course, he knows.”

  “Why are you so sure?”

  She huffed and turned fully to face him. “Because people like the hitman are determined to end your life so that you can’t testify. I’ll bet the hitman is a professional, too, which tells me he’s waiting for us to leave. After about an hour, he might come in looking for us.” She shrugged. “How many SUV’s do you think are parked down here? Especially ones with bullet holes in the side?”

  Zack shook his head. “The way I see it, I saved our hides by coming in this underground parking.”

  “Of course, you would,” she answered in a sarcastic tone. “Because you know everything about staying away from the bad guys, right?”

  He chuckled, not believing her attitude. “I stand corrected. You know everything. After all, you’re the FBI agent.”

  Shaking her head, she peered out the window again. “All I know is that we have two options. We either wait here until the hitman comes to find us. Or we steal a vehicle and get out of here. But yet, we can’t do that because it’s against the law.”

  “What if you call one of your agent friends to come and rescue us?”

  Her back stiffened and she looked over her shoulder at him. “I don’t think so. This is my case, and I’ll get us out of it one way or another.”

  Zack didn’t like the tone of her voice. There was a reason she didn’t want to call her agent friends. After all, the FBI agents were supposed to guard each other, weren’t they? The vibes he received from Whitney were not good at all. There was a specific tone of desperation in her voice. Even the look of fright in her eyes didn’t settle well with him.

  His heart twisted. Was she in as much trouble as he was? Now he wondered if being with her would be just as dangerous as being followed by a hitman.

  Zack was afraid to find out.

  THREE

  There’d be no living with Zack now.

  Clenching her teeth in irritation, Whitney glanced across the seat at Zack. They’d only been waiting in the SUV for fifteen minutes before a man and woman walked into t
he parking garage to pick up their car. Whitney had thought by flashing her FBI badge at them that they would want to help them out. Nope. It was Zack flashing his money – five hundred dollars, to be exact – that convinced these strangers to give them a ride into town. He’d given the excuse that their car broke down, and they couldn’t wait for a tow truck.

  The middle-aged couple, Mr. and Mrs. Boatright, were kind people who liked to playfully tease each other. They were friendly, as was Zack, but Whitney just couldn’t open up like Zack had. Thankfully, he never mentioned how rich he was. It was bad enough that Whitney had nearly jeopardized her assignment thanks to that little kissing scene that was now taking over social media.

  Zack had given them directions to a townhouse in Manhattan, and it surprised her that these strangers would gladly drive out of their way to take Zack to this place. What people would do for money...

  Strange, but the couple didn’t ask about the bloodstains on the arm of Zack’s jacket. Then again, because the leather was black, the stains were hardly recognizable as blood.

  Mrs. Boatright peeked in the backseat at Whitney. The curly brunette-haired woman smiled. “How long have you two been married?”

  Heat crawled up Whitney’s neck and exploded in her face. Zack glanced at Whitney and chuckled before turning back to the woman.

  “We’re not married,” Whitney quickly answered.

  Confusion marked the woman’s forehead with wrinkles. Whitney tried to think of something intelligent to say, but for some reason, today was the day her mind had decided not to deal the smart-card in the game of chance going on in her head.

  Zack laughed and leaned over to Whitney, grasping her hand in a loving gesture. She sucked in a breath. What was he doing?

  “That is a good question, Mrs. Boatright,” he said, keeping his stare on Whitney. “You see, I’ve been trying to get this beautiful lady to marry me for several months, but she thinks her job is more important.”

  Shock slapped Whitney in the face like a two-by-four wooden plank against her skull. Obviously, he was playing the role she’d started at the airport, but it would have been nice of him if he’d warned her about it first.