Taking Control (Babysitting a Billionaire #3)

For a moment, his father’s expression tightened, and then he grinned. “More likely old enemies. Let’s just say that I know the type.”


Yeah, his old dad would know the type. McCabe Industries was now totally legitimate, but it hadn’t always been that way. His father’s wealth had been built on illegal gambling, smuggling, and prostitution. That was all behind him now, but Declan was betting he still had a few dodgy contacts.

“And they will want to make an example of you,” his dad continued. “I’m doing what I can, calling in some old debts, but until I clear this up, I want to make sure you’re safe.”

“And you intend to do that by getting me some goddamned babysitters?”

“I’ll get in touch with some security firms, find out who’s the best at this sort of thing, and hire you some protection.”

Six months ago, Declan had come across evidence that one of his subsidiary companies was being used to launder money by a drug cartel. He’d gone to the police, and he’d been working with them since to uncover the assholes behind it. Now they’d succeeded, and those assholes were unhappy with Declan. They wanted revenge and to make an example of him, preferably before the case came to trial in three weeks’ time.

And this morning, he’d been shot.

That didn’t mean he had to have some crappy bodyguards shadowing his every movement. He glanced over to where his father still leaned against the wall. “I don’t need a bodyguard. I’ll be careful.”

“You’ll have them, or I’ll tell your mother about this.”

God forbid. He obviously meant business. Declan couldn’t remember the last time his father and mother had even spoken. Maybe his sister’s wedding five years ago? Even then, he suspected they’d managed to get through the proceedings without talking. Strangely, they had never divorced, but they also did their bests to never meet. As they lived on different sides of the Atlantic Ocean, it wasn’t difficult. Declan knew all about the effectiveness of putting an ocean between you and someone you didn’t want to encounter.

He gritted his teeth as the doctor made the final stitch, then released his breath. He wasn’t a baby. And he didn’t need babysitting. But maybe it wasn’t worth arguing with his dad about the matter. He’d see these security people, pay their retainer, and then tell them to keep the hell away from him.

He had a business to run.

…

Somewhere along the way, Jessica Bauer had lost the ability—and if she was honest, the inclination—to play nice. While it had started out as a cross between payback and a defense mechanism, now it was second nature. She was the first to admit it; she was a badass with attitude issues.

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t change; she was trying. Her biggest problem with that was she liked being a badass. It beat the crap out of being a pathetic wimp with a broken heart.

She drummed her fingers on the tabletop as she contemplated the man sitting across from her. Phil ticked all the right boxes. A few years older than her, handsome in a blond, bland sort of way, and dressed in a dark blue suit, he looked what he was: a successful city accountant. A nice man. In fact, just what she’d asked for.

And she was bored out of her mind.

She took a large slug of red wine, hoping to numb her senses. Just a little while longer and she could go. Cross Phil off the list. He was her third offering from the dating agency and going just about as well as the first two. She was out of practice that was all. She’d get better.

“Tell me about yourself, Jessica,” Phil said when she remained silent. “What do you like to do in your spare time?”

She opened her mouth to answer that she liked shooting guns and beating people up, when she was saved by the muted buzz of her cell phone. Caller ID showed it was her boss, Jake. Reprieve. Sometimes she just loved him.

Or she would if he’d give her the promotion she deserved.

“I know it’s your day off,” Jake said, “but we’ve had an emergency request and—”

“I’m on my way.” She slipped the phone back in her pocket and faced the man opposite her. “Sorry, Phil. But duty calls.”

“Oh.” She’d thought his smile was a permanent fixture; now it faded. “You want to meet again?” he asked.

She reached across and patted his hand. “I’ll give you a call.” Or not.



“Hey, what’s happening?” she asked as she strolled into Jake’s office ten minutes later. He was lounging in his big chair, behind his big desk. Soon to be hers.

One of the toughest guys she had ever met, these days Jake had the look of a sleepy, sated tiger. But then he was a newlywed, married to Jess’s best friend, Kim.