Bossing the Billionaire: Billionaire Brothers Kent - Ryder's Story (The BAD BOY BILLIONAIRES Series)

  BOSSING THE BILLIONAIRE

  JUDY ANGELO

  The BAD BOY BILLIONAIRES Series

  Volume 16

  (Billionaire Brothers Kent, 4 - Ryder's Story)

  BAD BOY BILLIONAIRES

  Volume 1 - Tamed by the Billionaire

  Volume 2 - Maid in the USA

  Volume 3 - Billionaire's Island Bride

  Volume 4 - Dangerous Deception

  Volume 5 - To Tame a Tycoon

  Volume 6 - Sweet Seduction

  Volume 7 - Daddy by December

  Volume 8 - To Catch a Man (in 30 Days or Less)

  Volume 9 – Bedding Her Billionaire Boss

  Volume 10 - Her Indecent Proposal

  Volume 11 - So Much Trouble When She Walked In

  Volume 12 – Married by Midnight

  Volume 13 - The Billionaire Next Door

  Volume 14 - Babies for the Billionaire

  Volume 15 - Billionaire's Blackmail Bride

  Volume 16 - Bossing the Billionaire

  COLLECTIONS

  BAD BOY BILLIONAIRES, Coll. I - Vols. 1 - 4

  BAD BOY BILLIONAIRES, Coll. II - Vols. 5 - 8

  BAD BOY BILLIONAIRES, Coll. III - Vols. 9 - 12

  BILL. COLL. IV - Vols. 13 - 16 (Bill. Bros. Kent)

  HOLIDAY EDITIONS

  Rome for the Holidays (Novella)

  Rome for Always (Novel)

  The NAUGHTY AND NICE Series

  Volume 1 - Naughty by Nature

  COMING SOON

  THE CASTILLOS

  Book 1 - Beauty and the Beastly Billionaire

  Author contact:

  [email protected]

  BOSSING THE BILLIONAIRE

  Intent on freeing himself from the demons of his past, Ryder Kent sets off on a road trip alone. This is the only way he can find the peace of mind he so desperately craves. But on his way to Mexico a missed turn takes him to the remote southwest Texas town of Pequoia. There, an unfortunate turn of events puts him at the mercy of one of the most beautiful women he's ever met. Instead of his usual role as the 'big boss', in Pequoia he's lost power and prestige and ends up having to work for this Texas rose. But Ryder soon finds out that manual labor is the least of his problems. He hasn't even put his demons to rest and now he's falling for his boss...which, after what he's been through, is the last thing he needs...

  Blake Beaumont has had enough of men. She's been hurt by one who declared his undying love for her...until he turned around and stabbed her in the back. After that, how can she trust any other man? And then, out of the blue, the perfect one falls right into her hands. Does she dare trust her heart to another, or is he just too good to be true?

  A matter of trust, a matter of the heart. And, in the end, a matter of love...

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Where the heck am I?” Ryder muttered the words under his breath as he stared at the stretch of deserted road ahead of him.

  So much for taking the scenic route. He’d gotten so sick of the dreary monotony of the highway that he’d taken a detour, deciding to try some of the country roads instead. Now, in hindsight, it seemed it hadn’t been such a good plan after all, especially considering that he had no idea where in the world he was right now.

  “What kind of a GPS are you?” he grumbled to the device set in the middle of the dashboard but it only stared back at him, mute and blank-faced. Ryder gave it a disgusted glare. “Not much of a help, are you?”

  The thing was, before Ryder took to the country roads he’d known he would sort of be on his own for some parts of the journey. There were some roads that the GPS hadn’t been programmed for. But jeez, he’d expected the device to pick up most of them, not leave him stranded in the middle of nowhere. At the thought, he had to bite back another grumble.

  For this part of his journey Ryder was on his way to Marfa, a tiny town he’d heard about at his last stop in Fort Stockton. What he heard piqued his interest and since he didn’t mind prolonging his road trip he decided to make a stop there. The directions they’d given him at the rest stop had seemed pretty straightforward…until now that he was over an hour into the journey and with no town in sight and with no hope of getting cell phone service way out in this wilderness. He hadn't seen another living soul since he'd turned onto the road. God help him if he ran out of gas. The hyenas would gladly have him for lunch.

  It was another half hour before Ryder saw what looked like a tiny settlement up ahead. “There is a God,” he muttered under his breath even as he let out a relieved sigh.

  In minutes he was rolling into a tiny service station cum convenience store. As soon as he pulled in, a stout man in checkered shirt and jeans hurried over. “What’s for you, stranger? Need to fill ‘er up?”

  The man gave him a smile so wide Ryder couldn’t help but smile back. “I’d appreciate that,” he said as he climbed out of his truck. “You guys take credit cards, right?”

  “I ain’t too sure about that,” the man said with a shrug. “I don’t work here.”

  That made Ryder raise his eyebrows in surprise. Was the fellow so friendly he would offer to pump gas for a stranger? Or maybe he was after a tip. Ryder had no problem with that. He always had loose bills in his pocket for pretty much that purpose. He was no stranger to people doing whatever odd thing they could to make a buck or two on the street.

  Still grinning, the man jerked his head toward the glass door to the convenience store. “Go on in,” he said as he reached for the pump. “You can ask about the credit card thing inside.”

  “Will do.” Ryder nodded and left him to his task. He walked across the asphalted pavement and pulled the door open. He was immediately hit by a gust of warm, stale air. He jerked back, holding the door open a while longer to let some of the outdoor air in. Hadn’t these people heard about something called air conditioning? This was Texas in the middle of July, for Pete’s sake.

  He stepped inside but, momentarily blinded by the dimness, he had to blink to reorient his eyes. It took a few seconds before he saw the wizened old man sitting behind the counter, his eyes glued to a newspaper spread out in front of him. Even when the bell tinkled as the door opened and closed the white-haired man did not look up. Ryder cleared his throat. Even so, the old geezer – for want of a better description – continued to ignore him.

  He cleared his throat again then seeing that wasn’t working he stepped forward and slapped his hand down on the counter.

  The old man jumped. His head jerked up and he glared at Ryder. “Hey, where did you come from? What’s with you, young fella, sneaking up on a man like that? You nigh gave me a heart attack.” He jerked the newspaper away then folded it up, even as he continued to scowl.

  “I’m sorry,” Ryder said. “I wanted to ask you a question.”

  “Say what? You’ve got to speak up, fella. What’s with a big, strapping one like you whispering at me like that?” Clearly annoyed, the man threw his newspaper down and got up off his stool. “Come on, speak up.”

  “I said I need to ask you a question.” Ryder raised his voice another decibel for the benefit of the man.

  “So ask it. What’s stopping you?”

  “Do you take credit cards?”

  “Credit what? You joshin’ me or what? We don’t give no credit at this here establishment. Credit got run out of town nigh on fifty years ago.”

  “I didn’t ask you for credit. I asked if you take credit cards.”

  “And what did I tell ya? Are you deaf? No credi
t. Strictly cash at my establishment.” The man was leaning forward now, looking like he was getting ready to throw Ryder out.

  “Not very friendly, are you?” Ryder knew his muttered statement had no chance of being heard, not by this one who was obviously as deaf as a doorpost. This man was the exact opposite of the one he’d met outside. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. “No problem,” he said. “I’ve got cash. How much do I owe you for gas?” He’d seen when his friendly helper had rested the hose back in its cradle so he knew the tank was full.

  “How should I know?” the storekeeper asked as he slid off his stool and lifted a section of the counter top. “I have to go out and see.”

  One would have expected the man to see the total on a computer screen inside the store but Ryder didn’t bother to question that. He simply stepped back and let this not-so-pleasant business operator walk past.

  Within a minute he was back. “You owe me fifty-five forty-five,” he said as he stepped past Ryder to retake his post behind the counter. “Strictly cash.”

  “I hear you.” Ryder took out three twenty-dollar bills and laid them on the counter. “Keep the change.”

  Old Mr. Grumpy must have liked the sound of that because his face brightened and for the first time since he laid eyes on the man Ryder saw him smile. “Hey there, fella. Now you’re the kind of man I like to do business with. Not like them noisy whippersnappers who come riding through here on their motorbikes.”

  Ryder almost smiled. So that was it. The old fellow must have thought he was one of ‘them’. He’d probably been harassed by some young, crazy teenagers riding through the place – although what teenagers on motorbikes would be doing all the way out here in the boondocks, Ryder couldn’t tell. Still, the fact that the old man put him in the same category was downright amusing. At three decades plus one year he was way, way past the teenager stage.

  “So where’re you from?” the man asked, suddenly looking like he was ready for conversation. “I know you ain’t from around these parts.”

  Ryder didn’t return the smile. He would answer the questions but the man’s cool reception had been a real turn-off. “I’m from Des Moines,” he said, and left it at that.

  “Ah ha. An Iowa man.” The storeowner nodded. “And what are you doing in this part of Texas? It ain’t like this is Dallas or Houston.”

  “I’m on my way to a town called Marfa. I heard about it at my last stop in Fort Stockton, that there’s this phenomenon that takes place at night. The Marfa lights in the sky. Nobody can explain it.” He shrugged. “I always was a sucker for a good mystery so I’m on my way to this Marfa place. Is it anywhere near here?”

  The man chuckled. “You’re standing in the middle of it, young fella.” He stuck his hand out. “The name’s Simeon. Simeon Harris. Ask me anything you want to know about Marfa. Been living here all my life.”

  Ryder took his hand but as he did he was frowning. “This is Marfa? This deserted one-storey sha…establishment?” He’d been about to say shack but he stopped himself just in time.

  “Yup,” the man said, beaming, but then his grin turned sheepish. “To tell the truth, this ain’t quite the middle. It’s just the outskirts but it’s one of the first establishments in this here town. Was built long before the town grew so big. Almost two thousand of us now, you know.”

  Ryder looked back at him, confused. “So where are the rest of you? Outside of your…establishment…all I’m seeing is wide open plains and tumbleweed.”

  He grinned. “Oh, they're still a ways in. The newer part of the city’s where they all hang out but me, I like it right where I am. I pick up the strays before they run out of gas.” And although he didn’t say it, the way he was looking at Ryder told him he’d just been put in the stray category. “That’s how I make my dough.”

  “So how do I get to Marfa?” Ryder asked. “The city part, I mean.”

  “Well, you just head-”

  “It’s okay, old Sim. I’ll direct him.” They both turned as the helper stepped into the already tight space. “I’ll make sure ye get there all right.”

  “Well, okay,” Ryder said then he turned back to Simeon and gave him a nod. “Thank you.”

  “And thank you,” Simeon said. “Come back any time.”

  Ryder was surprised when, as they stepped out of the tiny convenience store, the helpful one stepped closer and gave him a not-too-gentle pat on the shoulder. “There’s something about you,” he said. “I don’t know what it is but old Simeon likes you. I can see that much.” Then, his hand still on Ryder’s shoulder, he turned him to face west. “Now you see that post way over there? You take the road and go past it and you’re going to take a road branching off to the right. It will take you a little ways down but never you mind that. Just keep going until you run into the sign that says Marfa.”

  “So I’ll see a sign?”

  “You’ll see a sign. Can’t miss it,” he assured Ryder. “And like I said, if you don’t see nobody for a while don’t be alarmed. It’s still a little ways off.”

  “Okay. I appreciate you telling me that.” Ryder dug into his pocket and pulled out some bills. “Thanks a lot for your help.”

  The man’s smile widened. “No problem,” he said with a nod. “No problem at all.”

  Even when Ryder jumped into the Dodge Ram and drove off the man still stood there, staring after the truck and grinning.

  As he watched the man through the rearview mirror Ryder shook his head. “Weird,” he said under his breath. They were both weird, the grumpy old man and the overly friendly one. From two opposite poles, they were. He could only wonder if the other residents of Marfa would be just as unusual.

  Ryder had been driving for the better part of half an hour when he began to wonder if he’d taken a wrong turn. Texas was known for its wide-open spaces but he’d expected to be in Marfa long before this. He’d followed his guide’s instructions to the letter but there was still no sign welcoming him to Marfa. Where the heck was the place?

  So the man had said it was some way away – aways off as he’d put it – and not to panic if he didn’t see the place right away, but instead of getting wider the road was narrowing and on top of that it was getting bumpier by the mile. There was no way there could be a city at the end of this road.

  Not knowing if it made sense to turn back at that point, he drove on. He’d been at it for another ten minutes when the bumpy asphalted surface got even worse. Now it was nothing but a dirt road. What the heck?

  Ryder slammed on the brakes. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” He let out his breath in a hiss. Had he taken a wrong turn? Or had he been taken for a ride?

  And then he saw it. Off in the distance, the golden rays of the setting sun to the back of it, was a building visible only because it was all of two stories high. At least that was what it looked like from this distance. For the second time that day Ryder had to breathe a sigh of relief. Not a moment too soon. He’d been just about ready to turn around and head back the way he’d come. Now, finally, he’d found Marfa. There wasn’t much to it, just one building that he could see so far, but he would take it. He was too exhausted to feel anything but glad to see this sign of life in the middle of the Texas desert plains.

  He pressed on the gas and shot up the dirt road toward the safe haven. There was still no sign saying ‘Welcome to Marfa’ but he didn’t care as long as there was food and a warm bed up ahead.

  It was when he got closer that he saw how sparse the place really was. Outside of the building he’d spotted he was now seeing another six or seven but they were all tiny and all looking in dire need of repairs. Was this the Marfa he’d been hearing about? He’d been expecting some improvement on the gas station he’d left behind but this place actually looked worse. He hadn’t thought that could be possible.

  As he approached the main building he slowed down and when he pulled up close by he read the words painted on the front. Beaumont’s. That was all it said and eve
n as he got out of the truck he had no idea what kind of place it was.

  With a tired sigh he slammed the door shut behind him and trudged up the dusty path that led to the front entrance. As he walked he noticed a truck parked in back, then two. Maybe that was the parking area but it didn’t matter. Right then he was too tired and hungry to go back and move his truck. He just wanted some grub.

  Ryder pushed the front door open and, like at the gas station, there was the sound of a bell tinkling above. The lighting in the room wasn’t great but he could plainly see the half a dozen men who turned at his entrance. They were lounging around tables, each man with a drink in his hand. That was when Ryder realized he’d stumbled on some kind of bar.

  “Howdy, stranger,” one of the men said, holding up his mug of beer. “Pull up a chair.” The way he said the word made it sound like ‘cheer’.

  “Uh, thanks,” Ryder said, letting the door close behind him, but he didn’t move, still taken aback by the unexpected invitation. These Texans were something else. They were either super-friendly or downright crabby. Was there no middle ground with these people?

  “Go on. He’s not going to bite.”

  At the sound of a female voice, a bright and bold, almost teasing tone, Ryder’s head jerked up and he found himself locking gaze with the most startling ebony eyes he’d ever seen. It wasn’t so much the color of the eyes that got him but the audacious stare she’d fixed on him. Like a goddess who deigned to associate with mere mortals, the look she gave Ryder told him that in this little part of the planet she was the woman in charge.

  And if that wasn’t enough to make him stand rooted to the spot, on top of that the woman was breathtakingly beautiful. A mass of wavy, dark hair tumbled over her shoulders, framing a face blessed with high cheekbones, a pert nose and the sexiest lips he’d been ever so lucky to behold. She was the lone flower in a field of pot bellied beer-drinking men and among such weeds her beauty bloomed brilliant. And she knew it. He could see it in the way she carried herself, back straight and eyes fearless as she stared at him.