Reluctantly Rescued (The Barrington Billionaires, Book 9) Read online

  Aly pressed her lips together, then admitted, “No.”

  “And they’ve known him a lot longer. Angelina said he and Ian have been friends for over a decade. So stop judging his book by his cover. You’re more open-minded than that, Aly.”

  Aly sighed. “I am. I’m sorry. It’s just something I see in his eyes that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.”

  Joanna looked over at Bradford again. He did have a certain look in his eyes, but it was one that pulled on her heartstrings. “Someone hurt him, Aly. He needs your understanding, not your judgement. Give him a chance. He just might surprise you.”

  Out of her peripheral vision Joanna saw Dylan walk by. He didn’t stop but he did nod and smile at them.

  Joanna brought a hand to her mouth. “Did you see that? He smiled at us.”

  “Oh, boy. If you like him that much, go talk to him.”

  “No, I’m doing this the right way. If he wants to talk to me, he’ll have to come over here.”

  “He’s hitting on that woman in the cut-off shorts.”

  “That’s okay. She can be his tonight, I’ll be his forever,” Joanna said with confidence. She linked her arm with Aly’s. “Come on. Enough talk about men, let’s go find Angelina. This is her day.”

  Chapter Two

  A month later Bradford stood in the shadows of a large ballroom that would soon be packed with Boston’s rich and famous. Although he hadn’t been asked to, he’d walked the hired security company through a list of scenarios they needed to prepare for.

  Ian Barrington entered the room, spotted him, and headed over. “I knew you’d be here.”

  Bradford didn’t acknowledge his comment. He didn’t have to. They’d known each other long enough that Ian didn’t expect a response.

  Moving to stand beside him, Ian said, “We hired top-notch security for the event. You can relax.”

  “The world hasn’t become a safer place, Ian, you’ve just become soft.”

  “If by soft you mean I’m no longer willing to risk my hide on a regular basis, I concede that I have. Marrying Claire changed my priorities. I can make a difference without dodging bullets.”

  Bradford folded his arms across his chest. In their early twenties, while Bradford was still in the service, forty young girls had been abducted in a Third World country—straight out of their school. Bradford was Special Ops serving in the area as part of an off-the-record reprimand for insubordination. He’d defied a direct order he hadn’t agreed with because it had involved injuring innocent civilians. The rebel leader who decided to take those girls for his men had chosen the wrong time and place to do it. Only a few towns away, Bradford had requested leave to help retrieve the girls. When his request was denied, he’d sent a brief text to his superior telling him where he was going and exactly what he could do with his refusal.

  Ian had also been moved by the girls’ plight and had arrived with a team of young, inexperienced hired soldiers. Unaware of each other, Bradford and Ian attempted to free the girls on the same night. Ian lost half his team. Bradford had gotten stabbed. Together, though, they’d freed the schoolgirls and returned them to their families.

  Ian would have stopped there, but Bradford couldn’t. He’d hunted down the ringleaders of that kidnapping and took them out, one by one. The rebels who remained understood they could challenge their government, but death would come if they crossed the line and harmed innocents again.

  Bradford had expected to be court-martialed, but instead he received an education on the power and influence money wielded. Ian had the kind of friends who played presidents like puppets. The whole story stayed out of the news and Bradford received an honorable discharge. In his own way, Ian had saved Bradford’s life, and that was a strong foundation for a friendship.

  Over the next ten years, the two of them were offered countless missions by the US government, but took only the ones that fit their moral code. They worked under the radar, outside the normal chain of command—both willing to give their lives to protect civilians.

  Until Ian met Claire and fell in love. When Claire had asked Bradford to help Ian land a job running a top-secret foreign relations department of the CIA, Bradford hadn’t imagined Ian would actually take a desk job. It had sounded like another cover story, one that would allow Ian to continue his old ways without detection.

  To Bradford’s surprise, Ian had meant what he’d said about backing away from the front lines. Unaware that Bradford had gotten him the job, Ian had negotiated for Bradford to co-head the department with him. Unlike Ian, though, Bradford had nothing he was afraid of losing.

  With that in mind, Bradford asked, “How is Claire?”

  “Great. We’re trying to start a family. Sounds easy, but with Claire it involves charts and graphs. I had no idea so much thought went into what some people come to by accident.”

  “That’s what you get when you marry a life coach.”

  Ian smiled. “I don’t mind. I’ve never been happier.” Bradford believed him. Claire was a good match for him—poised and sophisticated on the surface, strong and full of grit when she needed to be.

  They stood in comfortable silence for a few minutes, then Ian said, “Thank you for coming today. It was important to my mother.”

  He nodded once in acknowledgement of Ian’s show of gratitude, then said, “I was in the area.” He hadn’t been, but it wasn’t something he’d admit.

  Ian clapped a hand on Bradford’s shoulder. “Well, I’m glad you’re here. I should have brought you home to meet my parents years ago, but now you get to experience why I didn’t. They don’t understand boundaries. You’re one of us now, which means if I have to suffer through charity events, you do as well.”

  Bradford didn’t voice his gut response to Ian’s words. He was far from being “one of them.” Sophie and Dale Barrington were good people, which meant Bradford didn’t mind going out of his way for them, but that was as far as it went. Over the past decade, Ian and Bradford had had each other’s backs. They had an unspoken loyalty to watch out for each other and, because of that, Ian was the closest thing Bradford had to family. That feeling didn’t extend, however, to the rest of the Barringtons.

  Asher was a pompous ass. If his wife was around, he was tolerable, but Bradford could stomach him for about a heartbeat before he wanted to smash his face in.

  Grant was a financial genius but required frequent reminding as far as what was and was not his business. Ian claimed Grant asked questions because he wanted to help, but Bradford didn’t need anyone’s help in the financial department. He was already set for life. Grant’s wife, Viviana, was definitely his better half—especially since she brought with her the comic relief of Connor and Dylan Sutton, two meatheads who marched to their own tune even as they tried to fit in with the Barringtons.

  Lance—okay, there was nothing to not like about Lance. He’d married a soft-spoken woman and seemed to spend most of his days chasing their twin daughters around and looking happy to do it. Was it possible for someone to be too nice?

  Kenzi was sweet, but she’d married Dax Marshall who was another arrogant prick with the added negative bonus of being close friends with Clay Landon—a royal pain in the ass on his best day. The first time they’d met, Dax had taken Bradford aside and thanked him for watching out for Ian.

  As if I’d done it for him.

  Sure—you’re welcome. Now back the fuck up.

  Perhaps because Kade had been raised away from the family, he was the most likeable of the bunch. He and his wife went back and forth between Boston and Australia, straddling the lives they had in each country. He didn’t ask questions, didn’t look for trouble. To Bradford, he was a man who was just grateful to have survived the fallout of discovering the woman who’d raised him was not his real mother.

  All things considered, it wasn’t a surprise that the Barringtons were all fucked in the head. Still, Bradford didn’t consider any of that his business. He boxed up any feelings he had about
Ian’s family, stuffed them deep in his gut and kept his interactions with them superficial. They didn’t matter. They were part of his life, but would they always be? Probably not.

  “How long are you in town?” Ian asked.

  Bradford shrugged. He had a few things in the works, but nothing urgent.

  “The family is gathering at my parents’ tomorrow night. You’re welcome to join us.”

  “Hard no.”

  Ian sighed. “The invitation is always there. I didn’t see the lure of game night at first, but I have to admit it’s nice to see everyone in that atmosphere. The games let us gather and have something to talk about that isn’t serious. It’s also amazing to see how fast my nephews and nieces are growing up.”

  Bradford shot Ian a look and hoped it expressed how he felt.

  Ian laughed. “Okay, so none of that tempts you yet. Someday it might. Who knows, you might find someone who makes you consider a desk job as well.”

  “Never. Going. To. Happen.”

  Ian checked his phone after it beeped. “Claire will be here, but she’s also working the event. One of her clients is terrified of crowds so Claire had my mother invite her.”

  “Sounds like my cue to leave.”

  “You can’t, everyone is looking forward to seeing you. Sneak out before my mother sees you, and you know she will hunt you down.”

  Sophie would too. Bradford growled deep in his chest.

  “Don’t worry, Mom put you at the fun table: Dylan, Connor, Angelina, Aly, Joanna, Clay, and Lexi. You might end up with Claire’s client as well. Two single men, two, maybe three, single women. How bad could it be? Aly’s a doctor, she might be able to help you with whatever has been stuck up your ass lately.”

  When Bradford didn’t say anything, Ian added, “Unless you think Dylan is too much competition for you. Movie star. Pretty-boy face. I get why you’d be intimidated.”

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  “Keep an open mind. You’re not bad-looking when you smile.”

  Bradford was about to say something cutting when Joanna entered the room in an off-the-shoulder, floor-length emerald gown. Her hair was swept up in a loose knot, revealing a long and oh-so-tempting neck. The front of her gown was tight, pushing the swell of her breasts above it. It was enough to leave Bradford temporarily unable to speak.

  Ian followed his gaze. “Oh, good, Joanna’s here. Claire asked her to come early so her client wouldn’t feel alone when she arrives.”

  Joanna looked around the still mostly empty room then smiled when she spotted Bradford and Ian. She waved.

  Bradford raised his hand ever so slightly in response before tensing as he realized she was walking over to greet them. He’d had a month to tell himself she was nothing special, a month to forget how just a look from her set his heart racing.

  She greeted Ian with a hug and a smile, then turned to Bradford. “I’m a hugger, but you can tell me no.”

  “No,” he said in a guttural tone.

  Her smile widened and she held out her hand. “Then, Mr. Wilson, it’s a pleasure to see you again.”

  He closed his hand around hers, realizing only after he’d done it what a mistake even that was. Her grip was strong, her skin rough from working on her small farm. Despite the innocence of their connection, his mind flooded with images of her running her hands all over his body. Never had he felt so close to kissing a woman he had absolutely no intention of doing anything with. He dropped her hand. “Joanna.”

  She leaned in. “The Mr. Wilson thing was a joke. You were supposed to laugh.”

  He gave her the same cold look that tended to shut most people down. In his experience silence was a formidable defense. Assholes looked for easier targets, nice people felt awkward and moved on as well.

  She didn’t do either. Instead she gave his arm a pat. “Don’t worry, I know you missed me.”

  Ian gave them both a long look then excused himself and walked away.

  As soon as they were alone again, Joanna said, “Bradford, you have no idea how glad I am you’re here. When Claire told me I’d be sitting at the same table as Dylan tonight, I started to way overthink this. On one hand, sure it’ll give me a chance to talk to him, but on the other hand what if he thinks I arranged to be seated with him? I haven’t seen him since Oklahoma and I played it cool there. Maybe too cool—he hooked up with a local woman. Angelina said he hasn’t mentioned her since so—I don’t know.”

  I always knew I was destined for hell. I earned my time there, but I had no idea my sentence would begin while I was still breathing.

  She looked around the room. “Oh, good, the bar is open. I need a boost of confidence. I can’t drink alone. Join me?”

  “Sure,” he said. Maybe a stiff drink would help his hardening cock realize she was not interested in him.

  She slid her arm through his, a move that caused his forearm to graze across the side of her breast. He sucked in a breath then told himself to calm the fuck down. If she noticed at all, she gave no indication of it. “So, what have you been up to since I last saw you?”

  He swallowed hard. “This and that.” It wasn’t as if he could tell her about the sniper shot to the middle of the forehead he’d given the man who’d abducted a congressman’s daughter. Neither the abduction nor the rescue would ever make the news or be tied to his name, and that was how it needed to remain.

  “What do you do?” she asked.

  He didn’t answer.

  She paused and looked up at him. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. Do you like it, though? Whatever it is that you do?”

  A man could get lost in eyes like hers—so open, so trusting. “I find parts of it fulfilling.”

  She nodded then started walking again. “I get that. I went through a lot of jobs before I found one I could say truly fit me. I never imagined myself as an author of children’s books, but it has been a game changer for me. I finally have the cash flow to do the things I used to think only other people could do.”

  He needed to know. “Such as?”

  “Ever since I rescued Betty, I’ve always wanted to help more miniature horses, but finding them the perfect home is difficult. However, since my books have done so well I’ve been able to afford to bring in incredible trainers. I’m excited to be able to say that we are now an official pre-training facility for service and seeing-eye horses.”

  Was that even a thing? “Sounds—interesting.”

  “Try fascinating, rewarding, life-changing good. Imagine seeing a throw-away miniature horse at an auction or in a kill pen. Society has decided it has little to no value. But that’s far from the truth. They have so much to give. With the right training, that little horse can open a blind child’s life. It can be a support animal for people of all ages. It’s the kind of work that makes every day a good one. I still pinch myself; now and then when I start to wonder if this is really my life.”

  She was too happy, and it made him angry although he couldn’t pinpoint why. “When you buy anything from a kill pen you’re supporting the kill lot business.”

  Her lips pursed. “I’ve heard that argument, but you know who doesn’t care about that? The minis I rescue. No matter what you do in life, someone will say it’s wrong. All I can do is follow my heart and have faith that I’m saving the ones that are meant to be saved.”

  “Faith,” he snorted. “The perfect sand to bury your head in.”

  She turned toward him again. “You don’t have to believe in what I do, but do you believe in something?”

  He could have lied, but as he looked down into her eyes he didn’t want to. “I believe we only get one ride, so we’d better make it count for something.”

  She touched his arm. “That’s beautiful.”

  He jerked away, breaking the connection almost immediately. He was torn between warning her to never touch him again or hauling her up over his shoulder and carrying her off to somewhere she could touch him as much as she liked.

  �
��This dress is being difficult. I’m more the T-shirt and jeans kind of girl.” She wiggled and adjusted the top of her dress. Then as if she hadn’t just pushed her breasts upward and given him a perfect view of a brain-scrambling amount of cleavage, she asked, “How about I buy the first drink?”

  “It’s an open bar.” He refused to think about how much he’d like to help her out of that dress, refused to let his thoughts wander to where drinking together might lead them.

  “Of course it is. I should know that.” She blushed. “I suppose I’ll have to learn things like that if I intend to marry into the family, right?”

  She’d said it as if she were joking, but it didn’t ring funny to Bradford. “What do you want to drink?” Even though people were arriving and there were others at the bar, the bartender nodded at Bradford immediately. Bradford lowered his head so he could hear Joanna’s response.

  “I should say wine,” she said tentatively.

  “You should say what you want.”

  “I may look calm on the outside, but on the inside I’m a bundle of nerves. Let’s get something stronger.”

  “A shot of tequila it is.” He expected her to refuse, but she nodded almost as if in relief. No one he’d spoken to about her had mentioned that she was a drinker. “On one condition.”

  “And that is?”

  “We do it right.”

  “Salt on the hand? Lime at the end?”

  “There’s a better way.”

  “I’m game to learn.” Her lips curled in a sweet smile that was so tempting he almost kissed her. He straightened and ordered the tequila extra añejo with salted lime wedges. The bartender held up a bottle of a top-label brand. Bradford nodded once in acceptance.

  He handed her a glass and a slice of lime then accepted his from the bartender.

  He held his shot up. She mirrored his stance. “What’s the first thing you notice?” he asked.

  She studied her drink. “It’s golden rather than clear.”

  “Exactly. The clear tequila, blanco, is essentially straight out of the vat, which is why it’s harsh on the throat. This one has spent a decade or more in red wine barrels before being finished in American oak barrels. It’s sweet with just enough spice to keep it interesting.” A lot like the woman smiling up at him. “For that reason, it should be sipped, not gulped.”