Free The Billionaire's Caress by Olivia Thorne Page B

me, grabs me by the shoulders, and looks into my eyes. “Are you alright?”
    I nod, then burst into tears again as he hugs me tight against his chest.
    “You shouldn’t have come,” I sob. “He might be here, waiting for you…”
    “He’s not here,” Grant says darkly. “He won’t take me out on the street, not with so many people around. He wants to have his fun.”
    I was getting it together until I hear ‘He wants to have his fun.’ Then I break down into sobs again.
    “Here… get in the car,” Grant says, opening the passenger side door for me. “We’re going back to the penthouse.”
    “We should call the police.”
    “No police.”
    “But he might be following us.”
    “Which is why we’re going back to the penthouse, and then we’re getting the fuck out of Dodge.”

4
    We drive down the streets of New York, with Grant weaving in and out of traffic at top speed.
    I grip the seat. “Could you slow down, please?”
    He relaxes, and the scowl on his face eases into an everyday frown. “Sorry. I drive fast when I’m tense.”
    “Well, I’d rather we not get in a car crash. Don’t do that asshole’s job for him.”
    As soon as I say it, my skin crawls.
    That asshole’s job for him.
    It bothers Grant, too. “He’s not getting close to you ever again.”
    I shudder. “I hope you’re right.”
    “What were you even doing there?” Grant asks, almost accusingly.
    “I didn’t go there just for the hell of it,” I snap. “He sent me a text from your phone number saying you wanted us to meet with some sort of FBI informant or something.”
    Grant’s eyes go wide. “From my number?”
    “Yes.”
    “He can do that?”
    “Duh.”
    Grant grips the steering wheel. “Shit… did you take a cab?”
    “No. Hodge took me.”
    Grant’s eyes bugged out. “WHAT?!”
    “Calm down – ”
    “Hodge fucking took you there?!”
    “Calm down. He could have tricked him – he certainly tricked me .”
    “OR he could have my employees on his payroll! Jesus!”
    Grant punched a button on the Bugatti’s dashboard. A dial tone rang, and a deep male voice answered over the car’s speakers. “Hello, Mr. Carlson.”
    “Jim, hunt down Hodge and get him to the penthouse. Use GPS or the Rolls’s tracking system or the NYPD or whatever you need to do, but find him and get him to the penthouse NOW.”
    “Um… okay… I saw him just a few minutes ago…”
    “What?! He’s there?!”
    “I told you,” I said to Grant.
    “Yeah, he’s in the garage. You want to talk to him?”
    “No. Get him to the penthouse and don’t let him out of your sight. And treat him as though he’s armed and dangerous. Understood?”
    “Understood, sir.”
    “Good. We’ll be there in ten minutes.”
    Grant hangs up.
    “I’m telling you, Hodge could’ve been tricked,” I insist.
    “Maybe. We’ll get to the bottom of it,” Grant says, unconvinced. “What happened in there? In the gallery?”
    “He basically just taunted me for five minutes. But I found out some things about him. And he said some things about you.”
    Grant looks over at me. “What? What did he say about me?”
    “He said you were lying to me. He told me to ask you about the hidden room, and what you found in it. And about a fire.”
    Grant is silent.
    “What?” I demand. “What was he talking about?”
    “I’ll explain later.”
    “I want to hear it now!” I shout. “You almost got me killed!”
    “I told you from the beginning what I was up against,” Grant says, his voice quiet.
    I recall the conversation from my boss’s office.
    It’s not like that.
    What’s it like, then?
    Like Hannibal Lecter is after me.
    “Yeah,” I say grudgingly. “But are you lying to me?”
    “I’ll tell you everything,” Grant promises. “But we have to wait until we get back to the penthouse.”
    “Why?”
    “Because it will be easier to show you.”
    The seriousness in his voice makes my stomach turn with dread.
    “Did you learn anything