The Financier (Hudson Kings Book 2) Read online

  Table of Contents

  CONTENTS PROLOGUE CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2 CHAPTER 3 CHAPTER 4 CHAPTER 5 CHAPTER 6 CHAPTER 7 CHAPTER 8 CHAPTER 9 CHAPTER 10 CHAPTER 11 CHAPTER 12 CHAPTER 13 CHAPTER 14 CHAPTER 15 CHAPTER 16 CHAPTER 17 CHAPTER 18 CHAPTER 19 CHAPTER 20 CHAPTER 21 CHAPTER 22 CHAPTER 23 CHAPTER 24 CHAPTER 25 CHAPTER 26 CHAPTER 27 CHAPTER 28 CHAPTER 29 CHAPTER 30 CHAPTER 31 CHAPTER 32 CHAPTER 33 CHAPTER 34 CHAPTER 35 CHAPTER 36 CHAPTER 37 CHAPTER 38 EPILOGUE ACKNOWLEDGMENTS ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  PROLOGUE This. This was why Nick Dawes so rarely took a freelance job separate from his mercenary team, the Hudson Kings. “What did you say to me?” Nick asked, his finger hovering over the keyboard, an explosive heat about to burst out of his chest. The enormous, sweaty Russian criminal who’d crowded into the van with Nick for the last two hours licked his lips and shrugged, but his eyes flicked nervously to Nick’s hands. “Is nothing,” Vlad Sokolov said. It definitely wasn’t nothing. The van door opened; Sokolov flinched, and then Maksim jumped into the interior, looking like a python in his skintight neoprene. Maksim was a lone-wolf operative; he didn’t run with a mercenary team. He usually didn’t run with a team at all. Given the shit going down, Nick thought maybe the guy had it right. “We done?” Maks asked. Sokolov mopped his face with his sleeve. “We are not,” he said, dipping his chin as if he could will Nick’s finger to press down on the “Enter” key. Nick stared at Sokolov. Maks

  CHAPTER 1 One Month Later Well, I guess this is it. Jane MacGregor stood in front of the grocery store cashier, staring down at the manicured hand that was trying to give back her rejected credit card. It was a really nice manicure; someone had put serious time into it, purple swirls and silver glitter and all. I wonder if I can just go there, to the magical place with purple swirls and silver glitter. Hopefully, everything’s free there. “Miss! What do you wanna do?” The cashier’s smile wasn’t quite as nice as her manicure; it looked a little strained actually, like she could sympathize but was focused on getting to her break, because she couldn’t change the fact that Jane’s ex-boss/ex-boyfriend had drained her bank account, taken custody of their apartment, and had now apparently maxed out her credit cards. Jane looked back at the line snaking out behind her. This being New York City, shit like this happened all the time. There were some more-sympathetic faces, some really not sympath

  CHAPTER 2 The mood in the war room was tense, to say the least. Dex tapped the keyboard, and the angle on the cam shifted, pulling back to provide a wider view of the situation. Nick’s heart was pounding, but he didn’t move, couldn’t move. Couldn’t do a lot of things, damn it, because he wanted to stay close to the Armory. That’s what happens when you want to keep a low profile because you’ve misplaced $20 million of a powerful Russian businessman’s heist money, and he’s—not to mention the other freelance operatives on the gig—trying to decide what to do about it. “He’s tested things out twice,” Dex said. Romeo, Chase, and Shane leaned in. “Oh, he’s gonna make another break,” Shane confirmed. Nick’s entire body tensed. The little guy on the screen was serious. He was dead serious. “Ohhhh!” everybody yelled, as a beautiful little blue-and-red-striped guppy jumped clean out of the tank and landed on the floor. Nick sucked in a breath of air, wishing he could do something about the fish f

  CHAPTER 3 Jane had some regrets about trying to appear entirely forgettable, which manifested most strongly right outside an Italian joint called Bianchi’s, where she was supposed to interview with Nick Dawes. She’d been caught in the rain without an umbrella, which probably did not project responsibility and whatever else it was you needed to convince someone that you were not going to let their fish die or set their penthouse on fire while they’re away. That said, the error did result in making her look mousier than she was even going for. Wet hair that was probably alternating between extreme frizz and soaked, no makeup, boring clothes (well, clothes with at least two fewer colors than usual). I am the epitome of the unobtrusive fish feeder you are looking to hire, Mr. Dawes. She entered the front door, shucked her raincoat off, shook the water out of her hair, and then tried to tame it with a rubber band. After stating her name, she was whisked through the restaurant by a buxom bru

  CHAPTER 4 The next day Jane showed up at the penthouse with her duffel bag, her portfolio, and her purse. After crossing the threshold and closing the door behind her, her jaw dropped to the floor, along with her stuff. Loose pennies rolled out of her purse across the herringbone parquet floor as she took in the majesty of what a healthy bank account was capable of in New York City. I am one hundred percent throwing a party at your place, Mr. Dawes, sir. Even if she’d had a ten-piece luggage set, she still would have felt dwarfed standing in the sleek foyer of Nick Dawes’s place. The fish tank was round and massive, and it dominated the circular entryway. A closet door built into the wall of this rotunda had been left open, revealing that these lucky fish commanded more accessories and equipment than a football team. The closet was also, by itself, larger than any bathroom in any apartment Jane had ever lived in. But real life reared its ugly head when she walked around the side of the

  CHAPTER 5 Tristan had a sweet apartment in one of those new-construction buildings located near the High Line, but the nearby transportation options were shitty. It was the sort of place that made it unnecessary to leave for any reason, as long as you were content to confine your needs to the offerings of the onsite concierge. Anyway, Nick suspected Tristan didn’t care how far he had to walk to the subway, because he was one of those guys who was always on his bike. He’d biked to the heist. Seriously. The guy showed up to help steal $20 million in a flannel shirt, Carhartts with the gear-side leg rolled up, and a beard that looked just this side of lumberjack. Nick could only hope the guy was deeply in touch with his sensitive side today, because it was the first time since the cock-up that he’d seen him in person. There was an even chance Tristan was feeling like test-driving that hipster ax he carried around in a backpack nestled next to his laptop. Yeah, the guy owned a designer hat

  CHAPTER 6 Given the sheer fabulousness of Nick Dawes’s king-size bed, Jane was not surprised that she overslept. Even after she awoke, she lay there wiggling her toes and luxuriating in his quadruple-digit thread count. It took the doorbell ringing to force her hand (her entire body, really), and the only reason she actually opened up after peering through the peephole was because the person on the flip side looked official, and she thought it might be something important about or for Mr. Dawes. She did not realize there was a dog involved until she’d already opened the door to a woman with a severe bobbed hairdo, rocking a pantsuit and heavy gold jewelry. At the end of the leash there was a young, enthusiastic dog, and in the woman’s other hand was a medium-size leather suitcase. It did not escape Jane’s notice that the color of the woman’s pantsuit matched the puppy, thereby negating any puppy-hair issues. Jane had to wonder if the woman had other dogs to match a black-and-white spot

  CHAPTER 7 Okay, this is not . . . yeah, this is not good. It had been a rough day. A basic morning that had turned into a long afternoon after Nick had left the Armory to try to corral Maks, who wasn’t returning calls and seemed to be putting in some effort to keep himself scarce. He’d gone all the way out to Brighton Beach and back again, but couldn’t find the guy. What he’d found instead was a gun at his temple and a pair of meaty hands binding him around the wrists. Now, from his awkward position in the trunk of a speeding car driven by a lackey with a Russian accent, Nick could only listen helplessly as his phone rang off the hook. It took him a second to recognize the ringtone he’d just assigned to only Jane MacGregor. He would have said she had very good timing if he’d been in a position to accept her call. Literally. His phone was in t
he pocket of his coat, bunched under the left side of his rib cage. He could also feel the bump of that promo item Jane had given him. A plastic p

  CHAPTER 8 Jane’s urge to “stand up for what was right” had taken on even greater urgency since Mr. Dawes had so rudely hung up on her the previous night. Since Allison had a car and a free pass to the man’s workplace, the next step was obvious. Unfortunately, due to Saturday-night-party traffic plus an accident that seemed to block every box on the Manhattan grid, Jane had to stew over her boss’s blackheartedness for even longer than expected. The backseat of Allison’s car was packed with Cecily plus an entire wardrobe for a fashion shoot, so the puppy (with puppy hair all over it, natch)—and the puppy pads and the puppy food and the puppy bed (also with puppy hair all over it)—were in the front passenger seat on top of Jane. The adorable puppy squirming in her arms in the midst of this mess was managing to keep her from prematurely losing her mind about Mr. Dawes’s behavior; that said, Jane was composing her speech, and she was not in a good mood. Conversely, Ally was in a fantastic m

  CHAPTER 9 From the moment they left the car in the courtyard and entered the building, chaos ensued. Jane and the puppy followed Cecily and her boyfriend, Shane, into a room that Jane managed to register as being full of very, very attractive men. Ally suddenly dropped back behind Jane. A waifish redheaded girl in a black jumpsuit launched a mile-a-minute speech at a muscular guy wearing a band T-shirt about how inappropriate it was that “civilians” were all piling into the “war room.” At least it sounded like she said “war room.” Through the drama Jane finally pegged Mr. Dawes leaning against a desk next to a guy she recognized from photos as Cecily’s brother Dex. Jane had fully intended to lead with an admittedly pissy-sounding take on the phrase “Say hello to your new dog, Mr. Dawes!” But when he stood up and came toward her, she realized he looked like death. The most beautiful, bruised, sad, sexy version of death you could ever imagine. He was just a mess of bruises, cuts, and ban

  CHAPTER 10 The next day, late morning, Jane took Rochester on a very long walk to the Upper West Side to see Nana. Nana fussed over the dog, who found a nice spot on the small Sarouk carpet in the tiny living room and went to sleep. Jane put down a bunch of pee pads under Rochester’s rump, took off her coat, and hung it on the peg while Nana shuffled off to light the tiny burner in the galley kitchen. “Brought you something I think you’re gonna like,” Jane said. “It’s a new series. Book one.” “I do like knowing there’s more to come,” Nana said, sticking a kettle on the stove and turning on the gas. Jane smiled and leaned down to scratch Rochester behind the ears. “It’s called Under the Kilt. A comedy.” “You think?” Nana asked. Jane got up and stuck her head around the corner of the kitchen and glared at her grandma. “You sassing me, Nana?” “Of course, darling.” Jane didn’t want to watch the part where Nana’s fingers shook so hard it was tough for her to pour milk into the tiny china pi

  CHAPTER 11 Nick was now in the habit of keeping his movement around town private and unpredictable. Instead of calling a car service, he picked a random route leading away from the Armory and hopped on a subway. He spent the ride staring at Jane’s contact information on his cell phone. He’d replaced “Fish Sitter” with “Jane MacGregor” and was thinking about what a great voice she had. A ballsy, smoky voice that stuck in your head like a song. Missy and Dex had done the background check on her. He trusted them completely, so he hadn’t bothered reading her resume in any detail, since there wouldn’t be anything on it that was more important than taking the measure of the woman in person. Now that he’d taken her measure, he was curious. Curious enough to not completely forget about her once he’d hired her. Curious enough to call her more than was technically necessary. Curious enough to want to see her again in person if only to take stock of how well he’d done making snap judgments about

  CHAPTER 12 Jane was in the kitchen when she heard the distinct sound of someone moving around in the apartment. She froze, one hand on her phone, on which she was reading her book, and the other hand gripping an oatmeal cookie. She slowly put down both, but didn’t get up for fear of scraping the legs of the barstool across the floor. The intruder did not share Jane’s concerns. He or she was barreling around in the foyer like a drunken sailor. Oh. Huh. “Mr. Dawes?” she called, reaching over to open the kitchen drawer where the pristine Wüsthofs were stored, just in case she was wrong. After a pause, Mr. Dawes stumbled into the kitchen. Jane sucked in a breath. He’d looked terrible that day in the Armory, rolling around on the floor with Rochester, but now, somehow, he looked worse. If Nick Dawes could look like shit, he’d look like this. In addition to the cuts and bruises from his last escapade, he now also had a swollen eye, a cut on his mouth that had bled some, and a face that had a

  CHAPTER 13 Jane had not slept well with Nick Dawes lying next to her. In fact, she’d barely clocked a handful of hours after falling into a fitful sleep. And still she woke up before him. It was the stuff of comedy: the cartoonish double take just before she considered and discarded the notion of taking off all his clothes and giving him an inappropriate sponge bath. Since that was out of the question, she opted to go for one of those high-velocity elbow-swinging power walks that were supposed to be so good for you. It was the first time she’d exercised in about three months, and it was not a coincidence. Jane wasn’t so sure Mr. Dawes would want to wake up next to her in bed; she wasn’t so sure she wanted to be there if he did. But she did leave a note, because not leaving a note seemed worse than leaving one. By the time she returned to the penthouse, he was already gone. Jane sat heavily down on the bed where he’d lain. Nick Dawes was pretty out of it, for sure, but you couldn’t fake

  CHAPTER 14 Once Jane had uttered the sentence “Nick Dawes was over last night and things got weird,” it took less than an hour for Ally and Cecily to show up at the penthouse. With food on its way, along with some exotic spirits from a booze delivery service, the girls were willing to wait no longer. At least no longer than the three undersize Negronis Cecily fixed up for them at Mr. Dawes’s bar cart. “Will you please explain yourself,” Ally said, curling her legs up in the very spot where Mr. Dawes had sat eating Nana’s sandwiches. Jane took a chair next to Cecily and casually snagged a Vogue India from the pile Ally had stacked on the coffee table. Another nice perk of Ally’s job was the month-old fashion magazines from around the world. “Last night Nick Dawes came to the house looking like somebody’s target practice. I’m sure he had a concussion. I kept waking him up every couple hours just to be sure he was okay. In the morning when I came back from running, he was gone. And now it

  CHAPTER 15 It had taken one hour for Sokolov’s suggestive little threat to screw with Nick’s mind. And that was when Dex reported that the electronic warning system attached to Nick’s security system at the penthouse was going off; when they pulled up the cams, everything was black. All Nick could think was: Not Jane. “Geo!” Nick clipped, confirming with a nod from Rothgar that the hit man was free. The two of them took off at a run. Cecily and Jane’s screaming at the top of their lungs from the living room was pretty funny once Nick satisfied himself that the back of the apartment was clear of danger; Geo was clearing the front. The men had gone in dark, just in case. Hence the screaming. Ally didn’t make a sound, though, and when Nick whispered to Geo via his earpiece that he was turning the lights back on, there Ally was standing—well, swaying—in front of the hit man, drunk and determined to look, well, like Ally always looked. Brave and disapproving of Hudson Kings business. Object

  CHAPTER 16 When Nick Dawes didn’t call the next day, it was kind of a shock to Jane’s system. Like she was waiting for that call. Expecting that call. Missing it when it didn’t come. Thing was, she needed him to call after making such a fool of herself the prior night. Just to know that he wasn’t disgusted by the revelation that she . . . That she what? That she wasn’t always as cool, calm, and collected as she projected? That she had a breaking point? Sounded like he did too, and it’s what got
him into this mess. That she cared? Oh, god. Don’t care too much, Jane. You know how that goes. You won’t be in his life much longer. Jane wasn’t sure how to process all the new information. It was all starting to make sense, every last crazy detail. The only reason she was in Nick’s house with Nick’s pets sleeping in Nick’s bed was because he couldn’t come home because he was at the Armory trying to figure out how to avoid being killed. She lay there with her cell phone in her hand. Yeah, she c

  CHAPTER 17 The next day during lunchtime, Jane took Rochester over to Ally and Cecily’s on her way to the PO box. While the puppy romped with Cecily down the tight halls of their apartment, Ally produced a rack of samples from a past feature spread on “larger women” (spelled out on a box of blouses and pants with a Sharpie, thank you very much). And because the clothes were so fantastic, Jane ignored the stupid label. Ally insisted Jane take the ones that looked the best—including an amazing Vera Wang evening gown—and then did her makeup. Which explained why Jane kissed the puppy good-bye, rubbed a lint remover over herself, and went off to meet Nick wearing a saucy new blouse featuring a luxurious draped cowl in forest-green jersey over tight black jeans and black boots, plus a full face of makeup involving a wicked cat eye. When Jane carelessly observed that she looked like a different person and that between Ally’s natural talents for foreign languages and styling people Ally would

  CHAPTER 18 Something was on fire, and Nick Dawes was lying on top of her. Jane’s face was crammed into the side of his neck, and Nick’s arms were around her head. She pushed on his chest until he uncoiled himself, and the two of them sat up on their knees, debris still settling and smoke still oozing from the opposite side of the apartment where the bomb had destroyed pretty much everything. Nick actually looked spooked, and it was really disconcerting. I don’t ever want to see that look on you again, Jane thought. Of course, he’d protected her with his body and had therefore taken the brunt of the debris field himself. Jane gave herself a pat down, wiggling her limbs and running her hands over her body to confirm that everything was still attached and nothing was bleeding. Nick did it to her all over again, as if to prove to himself she was okay, even though she figured she’d already proved it. “God, I thought you might be seriously hurt,” he said, and that awful look in his eyes fade