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

  Yeah, no.

  Angelina chimed in, “Aly? Joanna? What do you say? Could you take some time off—get a house on a lake or something?”

  “I could free up some time,” Aly said.

  “Sounds fun. I’m not sure how much time I could take off. I’ll have to get someone to watch my farm, but I’m sure I can make something happen,” Joanna added. She looked across to Daphne who had yet to say a word at the table. “Daphne, you should join us.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Daphne said, keeping her eyes glued to the table. “I appreciate you letting me sit with you, but I know that doesn’t make us friends.”

  “Say yes,” Joanna said with a warm smile. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

  Daphne nodded. “Okay. If you’re serious. I’d love to join you.”

  “Great, that’s settled then.” Joanna turned and addressed Bradford. “You too. Everyone needs a vacation now and then.”

  He opened his mouth to say he couldn’t, but Clay cut him off. “I have an idea. We should head back with Dylan to Iceland and watch him on set. I say we all head over, watch him in action, and stay long enough to celebrate the completion of his first solo movie. What do you say, Dylan?”

  “I’d love that,” Dylan said. “It won’t take very long. I’m redoing some scenes then it’s a wrap.”

  Clay clapped his hands. “Perfect. Two weeks. That gives everyone time to clear their schedules. Leave the travel details and lodging to me.” He nudged Lexi. “By me, I mean Lexi, she’s better at it than I am. What do you say, Lexi?”

  His wife smiled up at him. “I think you’re playing with fire, my darling husband, but I’m in. I’ve never been to Iceland. This is exciting.”

  “My friend Jón owns an island in Ísafjarðardjúp Bay in the Westfjords. It used to be open to tours, but he’s made it into a private residence. He’s hardly ever there. It’s mostly farmland run by the caretaker. Cows. Goats. Horses too, if I remember correctly. It’d be the perfect location to celebrate the wrap-up of Dylan’s movie.”

  “Icelandic horses?” Joanna’s face lit up. “I wonder if we could do trail rides.”

  “I’m sure we can,” Clay said then nuzzled Lexi’s cheek. “You can set that up, right?”

  Lexi laughed. “What would you do without me?”

  Clay shuddered. “I don’t even want to imagine it. You’re stuck with me.”

  She kissed him. “Happily.” She looked around. “Okay, so for planning purposes, we’re all in?”

  One by one everyone except Bradford said they were. All eyes turned to him.

  Connor said, “Bradford, you have to come. If you think the catfish are big here, you should see what you can catch out there.”

  Dylan cleared his throat. “You’ve probably been on a hundred sets, but it would mean a lot to me if you came out to see me in action. I’ve been doing all my own stunts and half the time I can’t believe I haven’t killed myself doing them, but it’s so cool to see the difference between what I actually do and how it appears in the movie.”

  Bradford groaned. Why did Dylan need to be so damned likable? “I have obligations—”

  “We all do,” Connor said, “but you can’t not come, Bradford. Any day now Angelina is going to start popping out babies and we won’t be able to get together like this.”

  “Really?” Angelina asked with amusement. “Just popping them out?”

  Connor shrugged. “You know what I mean. Travel is easier before children.”

  “What is Whitney?”

  Connor blushed at Angelina’s mention of her son. “I don’t think of him like a kid? You know he’s always welcome.”

  Angelina’s eyebrow arched then she laughed. “I love giving you shit. Whitney has soccer camp anyway. Given the choice between hanging out with old people or working on his kicks, you know what he’d pick.”

  Joanna peered around Dylan. “Come on, Bradford. We can try Brennivín. I hear it tastes like vodka.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “And you can show off your equestrian skills.”

  “Do you know how to ride?” Connor asked.

  Did riding with the Kazakh nomads in the Altai Mountains in Mongolia count? There, horses were essential for survival in a way of life that was quickly becoming a thing of the past. A few years back he’d spent a month herding yaks, goats, and sheep after word had gotten out that the government was trying to eliminate their migration route. A private company was interested in buying the land the nomads used to graze their herds and were using violent poachers to intimidate them. Bradford corrected the situation. So, yeah, I can ride. “Enough to stay on a horse.”

  “I knew it,” Joanna said. “I’ve never been to Iceland so all of this sounds amazing. Bradford, you have to come.”

  Clay jumped in. “That’s settled then. Lexi, plan for nine of us. Fishing. Riding. Thermal baths. I love Iceland.”

  “Eight,” Bradford said in a tone that discouraged debate.

  No one said anything for a moment, then Clay said, “Eight it is.”

  “Seven,” Daphne said. “Really, I appreciate the offer, but travel brings out my anxiety.”

  Dylan joked, “And that’s why this group is good for me—you all trim my ego right down. We don’t have to make our time together about me. The lake house idea also sounded cool.”

  “No,” Clay said while looking Bradford right in the eye. “We all know how seriously you take your new career. You found something you enjoy and you went for it. It’s sad how many people don’t have the balls to go after what they want.”

  “Don’t go there,” Bradford said between clenched teeth.

  “Boys,” Lexi said, “do I have to go get Sophie?”

  Clay smiled and sat back. “No need. My point has been made.”

  Joanna turned to Dylan. “What did I miss?”

  “I have no idea.” Dylan raised both hands in confusion.

  Bradford leaned forward. He’d sworn he wouldn’t allow himself to lose control, but his temper was flaring. His mood wasn’t helped by how comfortable Joanna was looking with Dylan. More of that in Iceland? No thanks. Since he couldn’t say that, Bradford said, “Clay, have you considered that my schedule might not be as open as yours?”

  Without missing a beat, Clay asked, “Have you considered you might be a coward?”

  Bradford pushed back his chair and stood.

  Joanna rose to her feet. “Bradford.”

  It was too late, Bradford had already turned and begun to walk away. He didn’t pause at the feel of her hand on his arm. “Go back to the table, Joanna.”

  “Not without you. Clay was pushing your buttons. We all saw it. He owes you an apology.”

  Bradford paused and looked down at the woman who had been trotting to keep up with him. “He owes me nothing; just like I owe him nothing. Don’t waste your time on a situation that really doesn’t matter. You have what you want—Dylan is all over you tonight. You might want to stay focused on closing that deal before you find your seat taken as well.”

  “First, this does matter. You’re obviously upset.”

  In a low tone, Bradford growled, “To be upset I’d have to give a shit about anyone here. I don’t.”

  Joanna put her hands on her hips, a move that pushed her breasts higher than her bodice in a highly distracting way. He didn’t want to be turned on by her, but it seemed all she had to do was breathe next to him for his cock to take notice. “I don’t believe you.”

  He glared at her. She had Dylan. Was she the kind of woman who needed every man around her to validate that she was beautiful?

  She continued, “I know you care about Ian.”

  He let out a slow breath, holding her gaze without speaking.

  “And Connor. Even Dylan. I know you like them.”

  He couldn’t hold back anymore. “What the fuck do you want from me, Joanna?”

  Her expression softened. “I want you to admit you care and then I want to get you that apology.”

  “Don�
��t get involved. Although I appreciate you coming to my defense, I can fight my own battles. Clay’s an idiot. I shouldn’t have let him get under my skin. That’s on me.”

  Joanna’s hands dropped to her sides. “The funny thing is I think he really wants you to go.”

  “I’m sure he does.”

  “Connor and Dylan adore you. Angelina thinks you’re wonderful. She was saying how much it means to her that you still check in on Mrs. Tellier. They all want you there.”

  Not happening.

  “I do too.”

  Her softly spoken declaration knocked the breath clear out of him. He scrambled to raise his defenses. It would be so easy, too easy to pull her close and kiss those sweet lips of hers. “You need to stay away from me, Joanna,” he said in a guttural tone.

  She took a step back. “I’m just trying to be your friend.”

  “I’ve got all the friends I need,” Bradford said, turning and walking away, but not before he’d glimpsed hurt and confusion fill her expression. He felt like a total ass. It wasn’t her fault he found it difficult to think straight around her. She deserved better than how he’d treated her.

  Ian met him just outside the door of the ballroom. “You’re not leaving already, are you?”

  Bradford shook his hand. “Tell your mother something came up that required my attention.”

  “You okay? I saw Clay chasing after you like a moth to a flame, but you usually brush him off easily enough. I knew it was a mistake to seat you at the same table.”

  Flexing his shoulders, Bradford admitted, “Clay wasn’t the problem in there, I was. My head is all fucked up tonight.”

  “Anything you need to talk about?”

  “I’ll be fine by tomorrow.”

  “I heard things got complicated in Libya.”

  “No more than usual; the son of the US ambassador lingered behind too long. He was trapped on the wrong side of the siege lines, but luckily for him the insurgent militia didn’t know who he was. He’s back with his parents now, a little humbler but unscathed.” Bradford frowned. “Why do you know about it at all?”

  “A perk of being on the right side of the government. I keep tabs on you and those who would like to see you gone. In some circles you’re considered a national treasure.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “In others—well, I won’t bore you with how many times I talk people out of attempting to erase you. Remember when we thought no one knew what we did? They knew. Be careful, Bradford. You’ve taken on some dangerous targets since I stepped away.”

  “I’m doing what we’ve always done.”

  “Yes, but with less caution. Don’t get yourself killed or I’ll feel guilty about leaving you for the quieter life.”

  Bradford rolled his eyes. “Good to see you, Ian.” Just then his phone beeped with a message from Clay.

  I went too far. I’m sorry.

  In response, he typed: Is this really Clay?

  It’s me, but I do have Joanna standing over me telling me what to write.

  Bradford choked on a laugh, then gave into it.

  Ian stepped closer. “What’s so funny?”

  Bradford shook his head and pocketed his phone. “The irony of life.” It was all he’d say on the matter. “I’ll be in touch.”

  “I’ll be watching. If you need me I’m always just one encrypted, highly classified text message away.”

  “Good to know,” Bradford said as he turned away. “Same. You know how to find me if you need me.”

  On the walk through the lobby, Bradford imagined Joanna cornering Clay and demanding he send an apology. She couldn’t sit back and say nothing when she saw an injustice. Looks like we have something in common after all.

  Joanna was the first woman in—forever—that Bradford felt a connection with. He couldn’t find a damn thing he didn’t like about her.

  So, what do I do?

  I push her away.

  “You snooze, you lose.” Dylan’s early taunt came back to haunt Bradford.

  Clay’s question quickly followed. “Have you considered you might be a coward?”

  Rather than taking his car, Bradford decided to walk and return for his vehicle later. As he walked, his past nipped at his heels.

  One street led to another as memories overtook him. Too vividly he remembered himself at seven holding his older sister Ella’s hand in the hospital when they were told that neither of their parents had survived. “Let this be a lesson to you, son,” a police officer had told him. “Bad things happen when you get mixed up with the wrong people.”

  Bradford had been too young to understand, but the words had cut. He knew his parents had been shot by someone they sold drugs for, but not much compassion was shown for him or his sister as they dealt with the loss. Because of their ages and the fact that they were considered affiliated with local gangs, they were separated and sent to homes outside the city.

  Ella had run away from her foster family and back to the only life she knew. Bradford lost touch with her until he was old enough to also return to his old neighborhood. When he found his sister he barely recognized her. The same gang she’d turned to for protection had gotten her addicted to drugs then pimped her out.

  In his teens Bradford had been too young to take them on. He’d tried and been beaten within an inch of his life and left for dead. Some of the scars on his face were from that beating, some were more recent. Although they prevented him from ever being called handsome, he didn’t mind them. Each scar was its own badge of honor. When he recovered from that first beating, he’d sworn he’d pull Ella out of that life. The scar from a bullet that narrowly missed his heart was from his second attempt to save her. Ella died of a drug overdose while he was still in the hospital recovering.

  If there was a hero in his life back then it had been his foster father, Alan. Neither he nor his wife were what one would call nurturing. They believed tough love made strong adults. Although Bradford wouldn’t say they were what he needed back then, he respected them for never giving up on him. Bradford was a ball of fury after Ella died. Still, Alan and his wife kept him. He thought it was for the paycheck, but looking back there must have been easier kids to foster.

  When Bradford aged out of the foster program, Alan encouraged him to enlist in the Army. “Want to fight? Fight for your country. Want to die? Die saving someone.”

  It wasn’t exactly an inspirational speech, but it had stuck with Bradford. He didn’t see much value to his own life, but he’d spent the last decade fighting for the vulnerable. He’d taken some tangents off that noble path to settle some scores. Every last gang member who had been a part of his parents’ or his sister’s deaths had found quick and brutal justice at Bradford’s hands.

  One might argue that the world was a better place without them, but Bradford felt that whatever good might have been in him had died along with those he’d terminated. The only thing that kept him from putting a gun to his own head each morning was the face of each innocent he’d saved. Each woman he freed from an abusive situation, and sadly the sex trade was still very much alive and kicking even in the United States, gave him a reason to keep going. Every time he returned a child to their parents he was called a hero, but he never felt like one.

  He felt tired. Ian was right; he’d spent a good amount of the last year taking bigger risks, facing down the vilest of demons. He’d seen things that would haunt him for the rest of his life—done things as well.

  During one particularly ugly mission a single mother and toddler had been kidnapped by a serial killer the police had been tracking but were unable to catch. When Bradford found them, the mother was tied up and had been raped. The child was crying in the next room. Bradford killed the killer, but first let him beg for his life. It wasn’t until he freed the woman and saw how he had made her afraid of him as well that he realized he was becoming as coldhearted as the criminals he erased.

  Like an alcoholic pouring his liquor stash down the sink, Bradford had swo
rn that day to only kill when there was no other option. He’d begun working more with his contacts in law enforcement—in the US and around the globe. In some ways it was more complicated, but it also allowed him to breathe for the first time in years.

  The woman he’d saved? Although he’d had no further contact with her, he’d made sure she and her son received assistance. She was now living in a small town in Maine and was taking courses at a local college. He had people check on her now and then. She’d never know of his involvement, but he’d set up support for her and her child so if they ever needed a little boost there would always be someone to step in and help out.

  I’m trying to be a better person.

  I have a fucking long way to go.

  Joanna didn’t belong with someone like him. A smile twisted his mouth as he imagined her standing over Clay and telling him what to type. Was she always that bold?

  He was lost in his thoughts when three men stepped out of an alley he’d just passed. “Look what we have here. Going to a party?” one asked.

  Without looking up, Bradford said, “You don’t want to do this.”

  There was the flash of a blade then another of the men said, “Throw me your wallet. And that watch.”

  Bradford assessed the three young men and said, “Fair warning. You come for me and the one with the knife is the first to feel my fist.” He pointed to the next man. “You’ll piss yourself from the ass kicking I’ll give you.” And then the third. “And you’re dumb enough to try to jump me while I’m dealing with them so you’ll definitely get shot. I’m in a really bad mood tonight. If I were you I’d walk away.”

  It might have been the scars on his face that lent credibility to his claim or the gun he made sure he flashed as he spoke. He didn’t care which. Or maybe a man who has nothing to lose and no chance of getting into heaven has a certain look in his eye.

  The one Bradford was sure would get shot said, “Bring it on.”

  “He has a gun,” the man with the knife said.

  It was almost amusing to see how quickly the man Bradford guessed would piss himself backed down. He said, “It’s not worth it, guys. Come on, let’s go.”

  They hesitated, seemed to weigh their options, then turned to leave. Bradford sighed, took out his phone, and used an app that scanned their phones for their identification. He sent that information along with details of what had happened to his friend on the local police force. Someone needed to make sure those three didn’t simply pick an easier victim.