Bad Boy's Baby Part 42

I breathed in, crinkled the bag, spat out the receipt, and tried to calm down.

A billion dollars.

Dad had a billion dollars.

I'd pop the d.a.m.n bag and rip it to shreds if I didn't breathe fire first.

"Dad had a billion dollars and my mother lived downtown alone in a two bedroom apartment for years?"

William grimaced. "He offered your mother quite a bit of money-most of which she refused. And he made sure you had everything you needed while you were growing up."

Sure, everything I needed except a father! Someone to hug me after school, to ground me that one time Momma found a pack of cigarettes stuffed under my mattress, to teach me to drive the car he gave me. He sent me to a fancy prep school but never once came to a play, science fair, or graduation. Dad never remembered my birthday either, he was always a year and two weeks late.

I spent my teenage years hating him, but he only cared when he decided to edge into my life. By then it was too late. I created excuse after excuse not to see him. College homework. Finals. Group a.s.signments. Rush-and I wasn't even in a sorority.

Now he was dead.

And I was inheriting the vast fortunate of a man I hardly knew.

Did I deserve it? h.e.l.l no. Did he deserve me? Absolutely not.

"Shay." William pushed a pair of gla.s.ses up his nose and studied the paperwork. "I know things were tense within your home, but your father wanted the best for you, always did. That's why he made sure the family would be taken care of after he was gone."

"My father never wanted a family."

"That's not true. He very much wanted a family. And he loved you with every beat of his heart, but he never knew how to show it. And, with what happened with your mother...well..."

"Yeah."

I exhaled. It did nothing. Something had to give. After the hangover and crazy s.e.x a few days ago, I didn't trust myself to have a drink. Good thing a piece of wedding-funeral cake awaited me at home. I needed to eat about five pounds worth of icing and figure out what I was supposed to do.

Investments? No idea.

Find an accountant. That was a good place to start.

Get a yacht? That's what rich people did, right? Probably needed to learn to swim first. h.e.l.l, I'd purchase a whole lake. My stomach flipped.

Maybe I'd start small. Buy a pint of the really good ice-cream on my way home.

Except I only wanted one flavor.

Vanilla.

Oh, man did I need something vanilla. With dark swirls of ink and enough power to knock me on my b.u.t.t and keep me there. Another night with a man like Zach would definitely take my mind off of this insanity.

"Before you get too excited, we have a couple particulars to discuss," William said. He cleared his throat, harumping over some of the fine print on the contract. "Because of the...enormity of your father's resources, the actual liquid a.s.sets and investments were combined into your trust. You will receive the money with your scheduled inheritance when you graduate. In...six months."

"Five."

"Oh." William squinted at the paper. "Uh, I think your father mistyped your information."

Not a surprise.

"In any case, Shay, the estate and his immediate belongings-car, home, material possessions-will be divided between his living heirs."

His what now? Heirs?

Plural?

The hair on my neck p.r.i.c.kled. I held up a hand, gesturing for William to explain what the h.e.l.l that meant. He cringed.

"I see your father and you...haven't spoken for some time."

"What heirs? I am his living heir." I stiffened. "Oh, no. I knew he was playing around while he was still with Momma. He has a secret lovechild somewhere, doesn't he?"

"No, no." William paused. "Well, not quite."

"Oh, Lord. What did he do?"

"It's not what you think. You know your father was in love with Emily Brewer. She was a lovely lady. You would have liked her."

I wasn't going to disparage a woman I didn't know, especially one who was tragically killed in the same car crash that took my father. But even when I learned of the engagement, I wasn't ready to get mani-pedi's with my new step-mother. My father had his life. I had mine. If we only wanted to meet up for the holidays, all the better.

"Your father's wedding..." William folded his hands. "It was just for the family. A nice celebration to bring everyone together."

"Aren't they all?"

William's eyebrows furrowed. "It wasn't the official ceremony. Shay, your father married Ms. Brewer over a month ago. Completely spontaneous and romantic. He flew her to Aruba-"

"They got married?"

"And his will was updated to reflect it. You see...Ms. Brewer has a son..."

He didn't tell me.

Why didn't even tell me? Not an e-mail. Not a call. Not even a d.a.m.n postcard from his wedding! I paced, clutching my stomach.

"Are you kidding me?" I slammed a hand on the window. "My father marries some woman, dies a month later, and her kid is named in his will?"

"Shay, I told you, he thought of her family as his."

"Well, at least he remembered them!"

"You were given the bulk of the inheritance, I a.s.sure you."

"It's not about the money!" I pointed to the paper in his hands. "It's about his will! For the past seven years, my father pretended I didn't exist, and now he's claiming some other kid as his own! That's not right. He never even wanted his own biological child."

"I understand this will take some...adjustments. But your step-brother-"

"-Do not call him that-"

"-Is ent.i.tled to half of your father's new home, and the same material goods I mentioned previously."

"Jesus."

"We might be able to work something out-especially if you wish to live at the estate. But first we should meet with him and work out an arrangement."

"Meet with him?"

William motioned for me to sit. He buzzed on an intercom for a secretary nearly as old as the crackling electronics.

"Sandy, could you send Zachary in?"

Zachary?

"You brought her son here? Now?" I groaned. "William, I can't have a freakout in front of a kid. Please tell me he's not some ten year old grieving orphan."

"No, no. He's not a child. He's older than you, actually."

Well, that didn't make me feel better. Not at all. Instead of a kid who might have needed help, I'd be dealing with some adult ready to bolt from their day job and spend all my father's money on a Caribbean beach house.

William stood as the door opened and an elderly secretary hobbled within the room. She gestured the man through.

My stomach dropped. So did everything else.

My pride. My dignity. My rage.

Zach Harden gave me a c.o.c.ky grin and shrugged.

"Hey, sis."

Chapter Four - Zach.

"Oh. h.e.l.l. No."

Her finger went up. Fortunately, it was her index and not the middle.

"Oh. h.e.l.l. No."

Now the finger wagged. A starting gun shot somewhere, and we were off.

And I deserved it. That's why I hadn't asked for her number after she writhed in my sheets. We were going to meet up sooner rather than later. I only hoped I'd have enough time to grab some of my old gear. A Kevlar vest maybe. A pair a handcuffs if she lunged...or if she forgave me.

"This isn't happening." Shay didn't let me speak. "You aren't serious."

The attorney panicked, knotting his fingers together.

"Uh, son, do you know each other?"

In every way imaginable. I dodged the question.

"Yes, sir. We ran into each other a few nights ago."

And I hadn't been able to get it out of my head since. At least it was something good to remember when Shay inevitably jumped me and succeeded where eight ISIS agents failed. I took a seat across from the attorney and hoped some form of the legal system would protect me from bleeding all over the office.

To her credit, Shay was just as beautiful angry as she was naked, trembling, and completely exposed to me. And that was a hard look to beat.

She acted tough, but she was a quart of trouble squeezed into a pint-sized carton. The skirt, the gla.s.ses, the low barrette in her hair pinning back the luxurious ebony locks. I didn't know if I wanted the vixen or the princess, but d.a.m.n if they didn't mesh into the perfect woman.

...A very p.i.s.sed off woman, as she had every right to be.

But I wasn't going to stress about our night together. My biggest regret was blowing the chance to re-live the most erotic s.e.x of my life. Shay was a one-of-a-kind woman, even if she was, technically, my step-sister. You just didn't get that kind of kink anywhere. That was a special brand of off-the-shelf, bargain-bin, sell-it-out-of-the-trunk-of-a-1980-Pontiac-in-a-flea-market-parking-lot kink.

"I can't believe this," Shay said. "This has to be some sort of joke."

William nervously laughed. "What a small world, huh?"

I smirked. "Small isn't the word Shay would use."

"This is ridiculous." Shay stared at William. "There has to be some kind of mistake."

"No..." William shrugged. "Zachary Harden is the son of Emily Brewer, your father's wife. He is your step-brother, and he's named in your father's will."

I shrugged. "I can show you ID, but I'd think you'd recognize me by now."

Even with clothes on.

Shay wasn't amused.

I shouldn't have been so confrontational, but d.a.m.n she was pretty when angry. I knew it was wrong, especially since she was my step-sister, but after Shay left, I jerked off in the shower to the memory of her clenching around me. Three days pa.s.sed and I could still feel her lips over my c.o.c.k, imagine her warmth surrounding me, and still smell the tease of apple and pomegranate on my pillow.

It was the wrong kind of fantasy to have, made worse by the current situation.

I was now an incredibly rich man.

And I had to face an irate woman demanding a metric s.h.i.t-ton of explanations.

She'd be lucky if I could even answer. Just getting to the attorney's office was a trip and a half. For the past week, Georgia flooded with rain. Suddenly, we had nothing but clear skies and an obscenely bright sun determined to burn through my retinas and set my G.o.dd.a.m.ned head on fire. The migraine this morning nearly kept me in bed, but a billion dollars got me into the shower.

The money opened the world to me-even if I wanted to travel to the places other people wouldn't dare. Iraq. Afghanistan. Iran. Syria. Those where the countries where I was supposed to be, fighting and protecting. I didn't belong in some b.u.mbling attorney's office in the middle of Atlanta. I had my fill of sweet-tea, it was time to get my a.s.s back into the service.

Though...some things they only made good in the south.