He lived life on his terms—no excuses, no regrets.
And when it came to business takeovers—no mercy.
Although he was bold, he wasn’t reckless. He had enemies, but was smart when dealing with them. Liking or hating competition was a waste of time. Neither emotion moved a buyout forward. Business was business. Nothing personal. The less drama, the better.
The media didn’t follow him, because he kept his private life extremely private. The deadliest animals in the wild disguised themselves to match their surroundings. Maintaining a low profile meant he didn’t get involved in anything that didn’t directly affect his business. Last night, Kenzi Barrington had looked as if she might. She’d walked past him, and something about her expression had caught his attention.
He told himself he’d followed her only because a beach drowning had never increased the value of any property. Nor would it be good for business to have to explain to a family like the Barringtons that their youngest had met her end while staying at a resort he now owned.
It had been more than that, though, and he was at a loss to explain it. She’d drawn him to the beach and held him entranced. His fascination with her was impossible to justify to himself the next day. She was beautiful, but lust hadn’t been what he’d felt when he’d followed her. As he’d stood watching her walk, he’d experienced the strangest sensation that he was supposed to be there with her.
There was a chance her presence at the resort was linked to the next project on his calendar. When Trent Davis had approached him as a possible buyer for the Henderson’s company, he had put Poly-Shyn on Dax’s radar. Dax had looked into it, but at the time, the company had been stable. No fast money could be made there. However, fighting within the Henderson family over the future of the company had caused its stock to plummet, and it was now ripe for forced takeover. So far, Dax hadn’t done more than explore his options. Had the Hendersons sent a family friend to covertly uncover his level of interest in the project?
Clay picked up after a few rings. “Dax, you’ll be happy to know I smoothed things over with the Barrington woman. I went over early with a Bloody Mary and breakfast, laid on the Landon charm, and then sent her home in my private jet. She was embarrassed but not upset when she left. She probably doesn’t even remember getting sick. You can thank me with a fabulous lunch after we videoconference with a buyer today at noon. Max Andrade called me.”
Leave it to Clay to get involved out of what had likely been nothing more than curiosity. “You sent her home?” His question surprised even him.
“Did you hear me? Max Andrade. That’s a solid buyer, if we can sell him on the property. He’ll want to keep it as a resort, and that would mean less time invested in dealing with permits and demolition. You could get in and out, and make a killing if you do this right.”
Dax rubbed one of his pounding temples. Focus. “You’ve dealt with Max in the past. How do we play this?”
“He’ll come in with a low offer. He always does, but if he sees potential in the area, he has the funds to meet your profit goal. With him, the price doesn’t matter as much as getting what he wants. I’ll pressure Hurd to put in an offer quickly, and we’ll apply some pressure. Tourist trap or Silicon Valley tax shelter: You don’t have a preference, do you?”
“None,” Dax answered automatically. He told himself he was relieved Clay had dealt with the Barrington woman. There was no need for him to see her again.
Still, he couldn’t shake the image of how desperate she’d looked just before she’d fallen asleep.
“Don’t touch me.”
He’d been trying to help her for God’s sake.
She’d looked terrified . . .
“Don’t touch me.”
Had someone hurt her?
The idea of it filled him with rage. He’d love to have five minutes alone with whoever had put that fear in her.
Hell, killing didn’t require that much time.
Dax shook his head. What the hell am I thinking? I don’t know her, and her issues are none of my concern.
“You don’t sound excited. What’s wrong with you this morning?”
Dax rubbed his temple again. “I’m fighting something.”
“Good. I don’t mean good that you might be sick, but good that it’s not what I thought. For a minute there, I thought you might be mooning over the Barrington woman. She is one hot mess, even sober. Sweet, but I can see why she’s not married.”
“Shut the fuck up about her. Understand?”
“Uh-oh. You liked her, didn’t you? I saw it in your face last night. Do yourself a favor, Dax, and stay the hell away from that one.”
“Be here at noon, and we’ll use my laptop to conference with Max.” He took a deep, calming breath. “And thanks for handling everything this morning.”
Clay cleared his throat. “You’re welcome, but proceed with caution, my friend. And I’m not talking about Max.”
Dax rolled his eyes in frustration. “I have no intention of seeing her again.”
“I know,” Clay said in a voice laden with irony, “but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Chapter Two
Planes and hangovers don’t mix. Not even private jets. Kenzi had done her best to sleep on the flight, but she collapsed into the back of the town car that met her at the airport and didn’t dare check a mirror. She knew she looked how she felt, like shit.
Her phone beeped as messages piled up on her cell phone. She didn’t have to check them to know who they’d be from. Her mother and father would be first, followed by her brother Ian, who would deliver a request for her to call home because her absence, even when announced, worried her parents. One by one, her other brothers would follow suit and deliver the same message with their own personal flair. Grant would be worried about her but even more about how she was upsetting their mother. Asher would order her as if she worked for him. Lance would lay out all the reasons why calling was the best for all involved. She wouldn’t hear from Andrew if he was deployed, and he was, but when he was home, he joined the phone chain along with the rest of them. He threw in his tediously long lecture about duty and loyalty.
I’m twenty-eight years old. I should be able to go more than two days without talking to my parents before my family dives into crisis mode.
Even when her parents had sent her away to an all girls’ private high school in Nova Scotia she’d had to check in with them twice a day or they lost their minds. There was a sad irony in that for her. Why send me to study in another country but expect me to check in like I’m living under your roof?
Because you don’t trust me to make decisions for myself.
That’s nothing new.
Kenzi opened her eyes and looked at the driver. The wire coming from his ear fit with the military cut of his hair. “Are you from Platinum Transportation?”
“No, ma’am. My name is Parker Draun. Your family hired me before you left the country, but unfortunately I was unable to locate you prior to your departure.”
Kenzi closed her eyes again and laid her head back on the seat. Was the man who he said he was? What proof did she have that he wasn’t a kidnapper? A crazy murderer? Was this how she’d meet her end?
I should be so lucky.
No, she corrected herself, I don’t want to die. I just don’t know if I can live the lie anymore.
She knew there were people who had endured worse than she had, but that saddened her instead of making her feel better. Think about something else. Anything else. Something good.
She thought about the man she’d met the night before and the assumptions she’d made about him. Her memories of the night were sketchy, but she remembered how he’d made her feel.
People joked that beer goggles made everyone attractive.
Rum goggles were apparently even more potent.
Not that the feeling had been mutual. Nothing says, “I’m not interested” like sending someone else the next morning to handle my departure.
What did I expect? A call to see how I was doing? He didn’t even tell me his name. His friend had to do that.
Dax Marshall.
Even his name is sexy.
Take me, Dax.
Do me, Dax.
I wonder if that’s his real name or if his parents had saddled him with something like Erwin, but he wasn’t getting laid because no one wanted to scream that name out?
