Let It Burn (The Barrington Billionaires Book 4)

  Let It Burn

  The Barrington Billionaires

  Book Four

  Ruth Cardello

  Author Contact

  website: RuthCardello.com

  email: [email protected]

  Facebook: Author Ruth Cardello

  Twitter: RuthieCardello

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  Billionaire Andrew Barrington walked away from the lavish lifestyle he was raised in to serve as a Marine. Until recently, he would have said he’d made the right choice. A tragic set of events, however, has him not reenlisting and emotionally hitting rock bottom.

  Helene Franklin is visiting her uncle as part of an extended vacation in Aruba. She trades her bikini for an office job when he says there is trouble brewing at his clinic and asks her to keep an eye out for anything unusual.

  Every Marine needs a mission. To appease his family, Andrew heads to Aruba to track down what he believes is a wild goose chase. Expecting to discover nothing, he meets a quirky, irresistible virgin who is just about to turn his whole world upside down.

  His questions will put her in danger.

  Her love will set him free.

  What will they gain and what will they lose when they both decide to. . .let it burn?

  Copyright

  Kindle Edition

  An original work of Ruth Cardello, 2016.

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, places, events, business establishments or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to every armed service person who has returned home carrying the weight of what they experienced.

  Thank you for your service and God bless you.

  You are not alone.

  Table of Contents

  Author Contact

  Blurb

  Copyright

  Dedication

  A Note to My Readers

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Epilogue

  A Note to My Readers

  I fall in love with each of my heroes as I write them, but Andrew Barrington holds a special place in my heart. It could be because he’s so damaged at the beginning of the book. I cried as I wrote that scene.

  No, it’s more than that. I knew Andrew would be a character who always stayed with me when my husband, a retired Marine, read the opening over my shoulder then sat down beside me. It’s not unusual for my husband to read my stories and make suggestions, but the first chapter moved him enough that he started sharing stories of men he’d known who came back in the same heartbreaking condition.

  It was important to my husband that Andrew was portrayed in a way that honored the real struggle veterans often face when they come home. If you read a scene and tear up, know that my husband and I wrote it with tears in our eyes. If you feel yourself cheering for him to make it, know that we cheered for him, too. He became real to us.

  This is a photo of my husband who retired after serving for twenty-two years. He’s not afraid to come to someone’s defense, but is also an incredibly kind and supportive soul.

  We wrote a wild adventure for Andrew and, Helene Franklin, the woman he falls in love with. My husband and I spent about as much time laughing our butts off as we did wiping tears from our eyes. Helene is a quirky virgin with a strong sense of self, and exactly what Andrew needs.

  Come fall in love with my favorite Barrington brother, Andrew.

  My billionaire world at a glance:

  Chapter One

  A month earlier

  A repeating loud noise in the distance pierced through Andrew Barrington’s dreamless sleep, pulling him grudgingly back from the only part of the day he found comfort in. Lately, sleep required a substantial combination of alcohol and sleep aids. It was a dangerous game of chemical Russian roulette, and one he was beginning to think he’d rather lose.

  He threw an arm out to see if he was alone. Christy, or maybe her name was Christine, had attached herself to him a couple weeks ago after they’d hooked up at a bar. She said he was not only gorgeous, but fucked up just enough for her. He didn’t ask and she didn’t say if she was a prostitute. In the last month, she’d tracked him down several times to spend the night with him. The next day there was always money missing from his wallet, but she was a good fuck who didn’t ask questions so he hid his credit cards and padded his wallet with extra bills for her. He couldn’t remember if she’d come home with him the night before or not. The days had begun to blur into each other.

  Realizing the loud noise was someone knocking on his door had him cursing. “Whoever you are, go the fuck away,” he snarled.

  The door crashed open and a man walked across the room toward him.

  What the fuck?

  He closed the now damaged door behind him. “The name is Emmitt Kalling. I was hired to find you.”

  Andrew sat up slowly, hating how the room spun almost as much as he hated the stranger before him. “By my family?” Only they would resort to something this dramatic. “I’ll pay you double what they paid if you say you couldn’t find me.”

  Emmitt looked around the room at the trash and piles of clothing. He kicked a pair of women’s underwear out of his way as he stepped farther into the room. “How long have you been like this?”

  After rubbing a hand over his throbbing temple, Andrew swung his feet around and stood with a groan. He left Emmitt standing in the middle of his hotel room while he took a much-needed piss then caught his reflection in the mirror and curled his lip in disgust. It hadn’t taken long for his outside to reflect how he felt on the inside. He leaned on his hands and looked into his bloodshot eyes. Did I finish the Jack Daniels last night? I could use it now.

  Emmitt spoke from the doorway of the bathroom. “What the fuck happened to you?”

  A flash of a memory pierced through Andrew, and he clutched the sink counter. Her smile. Her fucking smile. He couldn’t get it out of his head. Lofton’s seven-year-old, pretty-as-ever, chocolate-eyed daughter had run to him when she’d seen him, assuming her father was one step behind him. Her bright smile had filled his mouth with the taste of his own vomit. “Is your mother here, Giniya?”

  “She’s in the bathroom and told me not to answer the door, but I saw you in the window.” She’d looked past him, not asking, but she didn’t have to.

  Gabrielle Lofton was quickly at her daughter’s heels, but her reaction to him was much different. When she saw he was alone, she knew. Fear. Shock. Horror. Her eyes had pleaded for Andrew to deny the reason he was there. “Gini, go get a bottle of water for Uncle Andrew. I bet he’s real thirsty.”

  “But, Mom—”

  “You run along and get it, Gini. And before you come back, clean
your plate from your snack.”

  “Is Dad—?”

  “Go Gini, now,” Gabrielle had cried, and the smile had faded from her daughter’s face.

  Pulling himself back from the memory, Andrew used the palms of his hands to roughly wipe at his eyes. Fuck. “How much is it going to take?”

  Emmitt leaned on the doorjamb and shook his head. “I’m not leaving.”

  The anger that held him in a dark grip found an outlet. He rose to his full height. “Yes, you are.”

  With a shake of his head, Emmitt pushed himself off the doorframe. “Calm down, man. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “I’m not the one you should worry about.” Andrew turned and stepped toward Emmitt without a clear plan; all he knew was that Emmitt was leaving, one way or another. Unfortunately, the speed in which he’d turned undermined his balance and the floor came up quickly to meet him. He broke his fall with his arm and was on his knees in front of the other man, failing at first to get back to his feet. “Enjoying the show?” he growled.

  “Not particularly.”

  “Get the fuck out of here.” No one needs to see this. Not him. Not my family.

  Emmitt crouched down in front of Andrew. “You don’t need to tell me what happened, but I’m not going anywhere. I’ve been where you are in here.” He tapped his own temple. “I’ve done things and seen things no man or woman ever should. There are days when I think I don’t deserve to be the one who came home, but then I remember that my miserable life, insignificant as it sometimes seems to me, matters to my family. You matter to yours.”

  Andrew sat back on his haunches. “Was it my father? Did he send you?”

  “No, Dax Marshall hired me.”

  “My sister’s husband?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why the hell would he? I’ve never met him.” I didn’t even bother to go back for their wedding.

  Emmitt sighed. “He loves your sister and, by default, you. Those were his words, not mine.”

  Andrew closed his eyes. He’s good to her. She’s always leaving me messages about how happy she is with him. “My whole family is so fucking happy lately.” They’re all getting married, having kids . . .

  “And you’re here.”

  Andrew pushed himself back to his feet. “Exactly.” He met Emmitt’s eyes and said harshly, “Go back and tell them whatever will make them stop looking for me. I’ve got some things to work out before I can see them.”

  “Your brother Lance was afraid he got you killed. He was beating himself up over telling you about Aruba.”

  “Aruba?”

  “He asked you to look into something he’d discovered over there.”

  Nodding tiredly, Andrew pushed past Emmitt and began to search for whatever alcohol might be left in the room. “Oh, yes, his conspiracy theory. Doctors dying. People missing. All during the same time my brother and sister were born there, twenty-nine years ago. Who gives a shit about anything that happened back then?”

  “Apparently Lance does. He thinks it might have been tied to the stillborn death of Kent. Negligence that was covered up.”

  Andrew scored a half-full bottle of Scotch from beneath a pizza box, opened it, and took a long drink. “What does he want to do? Sue the hospital if he finds they were at fault?” As if my family needs more money?

  Emmitt folded his arms across his chest. “He wants answers. Consider finding them for him.”

  After taking another long drink, Andrew wiped his mouth with his forearm. “Why would I do that?”

  “Because men like you need a mission. You stay here, you’ll kill yourself slowly or choose a quicker way out. You know it, and I know it. You don’t want to see your family, but do you love them?”

  The bottle shook in Andrew’s hand. “Of course I do.”

  “If you give up now you pass your pain along to them. Is that what you want to do?”

  His eyes filled with tears again. “No.”

  “Then put down that fucking drink and let me help you.”

  Helene Franklin brushed sand from the bottom of her bare feet before stepping into the guesthouse of her uncle’s Aruba home. She laid her beach bag beside the door and smiled as she closed the door. Another day in paradise.

  Looking back, she couldn’t believe she’d originally resisted making a trip to meet her mother’s brother into a vacation. Until now, she’d only known Uncle Clarence through phone calls and the presents he sent for her birthday and the holidays. Meeting him hadn’t felt as important as continuing to do what she’d always done: help her parents maintain their large exotic animal rescue in Florida.

  She took a moment to send her parents a mental thanks for pushing her to go. Her uncle, much like the island he’d made his home, was a million times more amazing than she had ever imagined. He ran a large private clinic on Aruba and his generosity with community programs had made him a celebrity of sorts. When people found out who she was, they always had something good to say about him. He’d touched the lives of many in the small island community. Some referred to him by his local Dutch nickname, Weldoener. Translation: Benefactor. It fit him perfectly. He’d devoted his life and finances to improving the health of the people of Aruba. No one was ever turned away from his clinic. She had no idea how he continually made a profit while giving so much money away, but there wasn’t any part of his story she didn’t love.

  The phone on the hallway wall rang. She glanced at the clock on the table and rushed to answer it. “On my way. I’ll take the world’s quickest shower and be right over.”

  “Did you even leave the beach today?” he asked in amusement.

  “I didn’t,” she admitted without guilt. Her parents had called this her long-overdue vacation, and her uncle had told her that her presence brought him joy. Pending life decisions had been temporarily pushed to the background as she’d indulged in a few weeks of heaven.

  “Don’t rush. I’ll have the cook keep it warm until you’re ready. Call when you’re walking over.”

  Always understanding, her uncle was simply the nicest man she’d ever met, and she hoped one day she could do something to repay his kindness. “Twenty minutes tops, I promise. I feel awful that you’re waiting on me.”

  He chuckled. “Always so serious. You remind me of your mother. I wish she’d been able to come with you.”

  “Me, too. You know how she is about the rescue, though.”

  “Yes. I’m the same about my clinic, so I have little room to judge her. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about going to see her, but there’s always something here that needs my attention.”

  “And you think I’m the one who sounds like my mother?”

  He chuckled again. “Take your time, little one. I have calls to answer that will keep me occupied.”

  Helene stopped halfway through promising again that she’d rush, laughed at herself, and hung up. He was right; she took everything too seriously. She’d heard as much from her friends her whole life. They’d usually been referring to how she chose to go home right after school each day to clean out cages and work with the animals. She’d never fully convinced them that rehabilitating animals that had frequently been illegally captured and working with organizations to return them to the wild brought her more joy than shopping, movie theaters, or school dances ever could.

  After sprinting up the stairs, Helene sang her way through a quick shower and was still humming as she chose a light summer dress for dinner. She caught her reflection in the mirror and smiled. Her cheeks had a pleasant honey-tanned glow. She usually wore her hair pulled back in a practical ponytail, but here on the island she left it mostly down and thought it made her look younger.

  I’m not old, but I’m definitely looking better since I’ve been here.

  She applied a light amount of makeup, not for the benefit of her uncle, but because she felt beautiful for the first time in her life. She sniffed the material of her dress. Maybe because I don’t smell like someone who just cleaned up
rhino dung?

  Not that I mind the smell. She grimaced. I can see, though, how it might have contributed to my limited dating experience.

  Her smile faded somewhat as she remembered one of the conversations that had led to her agreeing to this trip. Her mother and father had requested a “family meeting.” Her stomach had churned nervously as she’d waited for them to tell her why. The last family meeting had been when she was eighteen. Her parents had announced a loss of funding that had made it necessary for them to let go of the few employees they had. Helene had already been accepted to the University of Florida and had been excited to start classes to become a veterinarian. That dream had come to a skidding halt when her parents had explained they couldn’t afford to run the rescue without her help.

  Save animals in the short-run or save them in the long-run. It hadn’t been an easy choice to make, but she hadn’t regretted deciding to stay with her parents. Every animal they sent back, every release day photo Helene received, was a reminder that she’d made the right choice. As she’d waited for her parents to speak, she’d prayed she wouldn’t hear that the future of the rescue was in danger again.

  Her mother had taken her father’s hand in hers, and she knew that look. The one that wondered why she wasn’t out dating, why she was still single. Here we go. “Your father and I are worried about you.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re twenty-six, Lenny, and . . . well, we’ve never seen you with a man,” her father said, looking as if it was as awkward for him to say as it was for her to hear.

  Her mother added gently, “We want you to know that we love however God made you.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Her father had cleared his throat. “Whatever your lifestyle is, you don’t have to hide it from us.”

  “I don’t have a lifestyle,” Helene had said slowly, then her eyes had rounded as she’d realized what her parents thought. “I don’t have a lifestyle.”

  Her parents had exchanged a look. “I told you,” her mother said.