The Billionaire's Redemption (The Billionaire's Kiss, Book Five): (A Billionaire Alpha Romance) (8 page)

To be honest, I’m pretty impressed by JP’s setup. His security system for the building is top-notch. The software end of it has about ten tripwires designed to catch hackers. The traps do everything from dumping would-be spies into a pre-recorded loop of empty hallways, to infecting their computers with system-frying malware.
I
could have gotten through his landmines unscathed, but 99% of the hackers out there would have stepped on at least one – which would also immediately alert us that someone had breached the system.

The respect goes both ways. JP watches over my shoulder as I break into the Bank of Seychelles and set up an account for Mike, then fill it with $5 million pulled from one of Grant’s offshore accounts that the FBI hasn’t found yet.

“
Formidable,
” he mutters at one point. Every so often he says another French word I don’t recognize, but it sounds like he’s impressed.

Dominique? Not so much.

“She only knows how to type?” she sniffs at one point.

“She does computers,” Grant says.

“She only knows how to do computers?” she sniffs again.

JP says something in French, which makes Dominique yell and throw an empty wine bottle at him.

JP rages at her, swearing and gesturing at the computers. I hear
‘putain d’merde!’
repeatedly.

“ONE MILLION!” Grant calls out, at which point Dominique leaves the room and slams the door shut behind her.

“What did you say to her?” I ask JP.

“Hm? Oh, I tell her to stop throwing shit, that we need the computers more than we need her.”

I’m starting to like JP. “That’s why she threw the wine bottle at you?”

“What? Oh – no, I tell her that you do the hacking better than she is in bed, which is all she has to offer at this point, so she should be quiet.”

Uhhhh…

Not so sure I’m liking JP as much anymore.

Grant is sitting around without anything to do, so he asks a lot of questions and make a lot of blanket statements, like,
We’ve gotta be proactive
and
We’ve got to get out ahead of Epicurus on this.
I imagine when he does that sort of stuff around his employees they all nod their heads and act like he’s said something profound, but to me it’s just annoying. I tune him out – hacking takes concentration – but he does ask me some pointed questions every once in a while, which I answer directly and then get back to business.

“Can you find out how the local police knew we were on the plane?” he asks.

“Maybe. But their system is probably all in French, so I’d need somebody to translate, and that could take forever – and potentially be dangerous.”

JP shrugs. “I could make a call, if you want.”

I stop what I’m doing, and both Grant and I stare at him.

JP looks at us like we’re a couple of wolves eyeing a chicken.
“Qu’est-ce que c’est?”
he asks defensively.

“Who are you going to call?” Grant demands.

“I have a friend from childhood who is now a detective,” JP says. “Sometimes I need information, and… well… in exchange for some money…”

“You have a mole?!” I exclaim.

“And you didn’t fucking
tell
us?” Grant fumes.

“Putain d’merde,”
JP swears as he wards us off.

After a little haranguing, he calls his friend. They talk briefly in French, then JP hangs up.

“Well?” Grant asks.

“He will call me back when he discovers something,” JP says with a frown. “Now get out of my ass.”

I’m absolutely starving, so we have an early lunch – several gourmet cheeses, olives, nuts, and cold cuts. And red wine.
Really
good red wine. I’m a little tipsy halfway through the meal, so I switch to sparkling water. Alcohol and hacking under high-stakes circumstances don’t mix.

Grant and Jean-Paul reminisce about the old days. JP has warmed up enough now that he smiles when Grant mentions “that time in Nice” or “that job in Geneva.”

Dominique chimes in occasionally, reminding Grant of “our trip to Florence” and “those two weeks in Prague.”

Every time, Grant just smiles politely and changes the subject back to cat burglary.

I know she’s trying to mark territory she has no shot at reclaiming, but it still makes me angry. Yet I can’t really say anything. She’s done nothing more than allude to ‘trips’ and ‘vacations.’

Then she crosses the line.

“Remember that time we made love on the beach in Sardinia?” she asks. “
Mon Dieu,
that was amazing.”

Grant grimaces. “Yes, well, that was two years ago.”

“It feels like yesterday to me,” she purrs.

Bitch – you wanna bring that up in front of me?

You brought a knife to a GUN fight, dumbass.

“Hey Grant,” I say.

“Yes?” he asks warily, expecting some jealous drama from me.

“Remember this morning when you fucked my brains out in the shower?”

He tries to stifle a grin. “I do, yes.”

Dominique looks like she’s going to pick up a butter knife and stab me.

Fuck you, Little Miss French Movie Star. YOU started this.

“All while we were on the run from the police – I mean, it was almost like you
had
to have me, no matter how dangerous it was. You just
had
to…
take
me,” I say, putting an extra sultry purr on the ‘take me’ part.

The grin breaks out in full force. “I did.”

Dominique is now scraping her fingernails across the wooden table without realizing she’s doing it. I’m pretty sure she’d rather the tabletop be my face.

“And the night before, when we had sex in that house we broke into –
that
was crazy.”

“It was,” he admits.

“It’s almost like doing illegal stuff makes you even hornier.”

“It kind of does.”

Any second now, Dominique is going to start foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog.

“Huh,” I say thoughtfully. “Maybe that explains why we’ve done it
sooo
many times over the last four days – ”

Dominique gets up and storms outside onto the balcony.

Grant isn’t angry, but he does look at me like I’m a naughty little schoolgirl. “Was that
really
necessary?”

I shrug. “Bitches gots to learn.”

JP just chuckles. “Ah heu heu heu heu…”

Dominique comes back in a moment later, as though to prove she’s completely unaffected. But I notice she won’t look at me, and she doesn’t say anything to anyone else.

Good.

As we’re winding down the meal, Grant says, “By the way, we need some guns.”

Guns?
I think.
Why the hell do we need guns?

Before I can say anything, though, JP answers, “Yes, well, I need a beautiful naked woman and ten million dollars, but I do not see them yet.”

“Guns first, ten million later,” Grant says. “You’re on your own with the naked woman.”

JP turns to Dominique and asks something in French. Whatever it is he says (and it’s probably along the lines of
Hey baby, want to be MY naked woman?)
, he uses a slimy, suggestive tone of voice – at which point she breaks her silence to chew him out.

I hear a familiar couple of words in her insult, at which point Grant snorts with laughter.

“Swizzle stick?” I ask, and Grant nods.

JP flips Dominique the bird, at which point she says something that makes Grant laugh even harder.

I look puzzled.

“She said his middle finger is a big improvement over his swizzle stick,” Grant explains.

“Hey, hey, no more swizzle stick,” JP snaps, looking unhappy.

“You started it,” Grant says.

“I end it,” Dominique says with a scowl at JP.

I can’t decide who to side with on this one: the bitch I hate, or the slimy French male chauvinist. Bad choices all around.

Changing the subject, JP asks, “Why do you need guns?”

“The guys who come after us always have guns. I’d like to be prepared this time.”

“Really?” I ask, wincing.

“You were there when they broke into my penthouse. You really want them to come in with submachine guns, and we’re sitting ducks?”

“I just… it makes me uneasy.”

“It makes me uneasy, too. But being helpless and unarmed makes me even
more
uneasy.”

JP lights a cigarette in his oh-so-French way. “It is not a question of any importance, because this is not America. We do not sell guns at McDonald’s.”

“We don’t sell guns at McDonald’s,” I say, annoyed.

“No? They do not come in the, how you say, Happy Meals?” JP asks. I can tell he’s mocking me.

“Give it time,” Grant says.

“
Sérieusement,
the type of guns I assume you want are restricted in France.
Très
difficult to buy.”

“I figured. But I’m also guessing you know a guy.”

“I know a guy,
oui
. But he is not a ‘good guy.’”

“Criminals seldom are. Present company excluded,” Grant says.

“Grant… this man… his customers are not like you and I. They do not think of violence as an act of last resort; they use violence
immediatement.
”

“I get it. You don’t want to do this – ”

“And I do not like guns.”

“Duly noted. But we’re up against the Devil here, and I don’t want to go up against him empty-handed. If I have to deal with a couple of thugs to make sure of that, I’ll take that responsibility. It’s on my head, not yours.”

JP sighs. “He does not provide services for free. Or for promises of payment later, after the job is done.”

Grant retrieves our backpack, opens it up, and slaps a stack of hundreds on the table. It’s not all of our remaining cash, but it’s a good chunk of it.

“That’s ten grand. Will that persuade your guy to help us?” Grant asks.

JP’s eyebrows arch slightly as he looks at the money. “
Oui –
that should be very persuasive.”

After lunch is over, JP and Dominique go out to buy the guns. They’re still bitching at each other as they walk out the door.

Then they’re gone.

Finally: quiet.

I continue my hacking at JP’s work station.

Grant comes up behind my chair. “We’re alone.”

“I noticed,” I say as I continue to type.

He leans over and kisses my neck. “Want to take advantage of it?”

Mmmmm.

It feels really nice, but…

“I have work to do,” I say, trying my best to ignore his lips brushing against my skin.

“You can take a break.”

“Just because
you
don’t have anything to do right now doesn’t mean
I
don’t.”

“Is it absolutely necessary?
Right
now?”

“…no, but…”

“It’s been awhile since last time,” he whispers into my ear.

I scoff. “It’s been nine or ten hours.
Maybe.
”

“That’s awhile.”

One of his fingers slowly traces its way down the front of my blouse, then stops and circles my nipple, which hardens underneath my bra.

Mmmm…

“We might not have another opportunity,” he murmurs in my other ear, as his left hand reaches down and undoes the top button of my blouse.

I lightly slap his hand away – from the button. Not the finger that’s caressing my nipple. “We can’t just have sex every time there’s an opportunity.”

“Why not?” he asks, and goes back and undoes the second button. This time I let him.

“Because that would be a
lot
of sex.”

“Nothing wrong with that.”

His fingers slip inside my blouse and slip my left bra strap off my shoulder.

I yank the bra strap back into place. “I have to work.”

“Well… what if I just…
do
some things to you while you work?” he asks, trailing his fingers down the nape of my neck.

Ohhhhh God.

“Like what?” I ask, feigning complete disinterest, even though I’m incredibly turned on.

“Why don’t I show you?”

Oooh.

I want to see where he’s going with this. “Fine. Do your worst.”

“Or my best,” he says with a grin.

“Whatever.”

He kneels down in front of my chair. I have to reach around his head to continue typing. This is
so
not conducive to work, but that ship has already sailed.

I’m totally going to have sex with him.

I just want to see what he’s going to do.

He takes me by the hips and gets me to scoot my ass to the edge of the chair, so that I’m slumped down as much as I’m sitting. He slowly pushes my skirt up my legs until it’s around my waist. Then he leans over and begins to kiss the inside of my thighs. Softly… slowly. His lips are warm, and I feel the occasional flick of his tongue on my skin.

Ohhhhh…

His finger reaches up to my underwear and strokes the satin as softly as an eyelash brushing against your cheek. I can just
barely
feel the sensations through the cloth… but they’re exquisite. He’s softly stroking the hood of my clit, just enough to make me quiver.

I was already wet before he started touching me. Now I’m soaked.

It’s getting
really
difficult to focus on the computer screen. I haven’t typed anything for the last ten seconds.

“Want to go to the bedroom?” he asks from between my legs.

“Still hacking here,” I announce. I open a Word doc so I can type nonsense and fake like I’m doing something.

He chuckles and goes back to work.

He spreads my legs further apart, then gets his mouth right up against my underwear. He starts doing with his lips what he was doing with his finger just seconds ago: lightly caressing my clit. I can feel his hot breath where satin gives way to skin.

Then he slowly edges my underwear to one side – centimeter by centimeter – with his tongue.

Ohhhh FUCK.

He starts licking my lips, gently. He moves the satin further aside, and strokes his way up my pussy, all the way to the top. He pauses, the tip of his tongue resting wetly on my clit. He circles it, sooooo slowly. There is an electricity between his flesh and mine, an overwhelming current of pleasure. It’s impossible to do anything but surrender.