Banking the Billionaire (Billionaire Bad Boys, #2)(8)

By: Max Monroe


“So you’ll do it?” he questioned, sounding far too hopeful.

“What about Kline? Or Wes? Or a fucking family member? How the fuck did I end up being your one fucking phone call?”

“I’m starting to realize fuck is your favorite word.”

“What?” What was he even talking about?

He laughed again, and I wanted to reach inside the phone and strangle him.



Go ahead and mark the time as 2:35 a.m.

Kill Thatch is now number one on my to-do list for Monday.



“You say it a lot. Any variation.”

“And?” I snapped when he didn’t elaborate further.

“I fucking like it, honey.” I could sense the smile in his voice.

“Are you hitting on me? In the same conversation where you just asked me to bail you out of jail?”

“That depends.”

I sighed and leaned my head against the headboard. “On what?”

“If I say yes, are you going to hang up the phone?”

“I’ve been about four seconds away from hanging up the phone since I answered it.”

“Thatcher!” A loud, booming voice called in the background. I could only assume it was Sheriff Miller. This was about the weirdest phone call I had ever received on a Saturday night. And that said a lot coming from me.

“So…you think you can help me out?”

“You’re gonna owe me big time.”

“Anything you want, honey.”

“Where are you?” I put him on speakerphone and pulled up Google Maps, ready to GPS the convict’s location.

“Upstate, in a little town called Frogsneck,” he answered and proceeded to give me the address. He even told me to drive his Range Rover. All I had to do was go get it from his apartment.

“Oh, for the love of God,” I muttered after seeing that it was going to be a ninety-minute drive. “Get ready, dickhead, because I’m about to get real fucking creative with payment for this favor.”

I expected to hear laughter, but when I looked at the phone, his call had already dropped. I tossed it on my nightstand and hopped out of bed.

“What an idiot,” I said to myself as I rummaged through my closet, trying to find something half decent and comfortable to wear for the drive.

I decided on flats, yoga pants, and a T-shirt that read “I just want to drink wine and pet my,” with a picture of a cat at the bottom. Yeah, I didn’t own a cat, but I had a pussy, and I loved to masturbate, so the shirt wasn’t lying.

I threw my dark locks up into a messy bun and called it a day. I refused to waste time and energy on makeup because Numbnuts didn’t deserve that kind of appearance after waking me up in the middle of the night.

As I strode into the kitchen and grabbed my purse, I decided I didn’t want to pick him up in his car. No way, that’d be too generous on my part.

I almost called Georgia to see if Kline would let me borrow the Ford Focus she’d picked out for him, but I stopped when I thought about the fact that Thatch had called me over his best friend. Odd, for sure, but something in my gut told me there was a reason for it. Whatever the reason might be, I’d keep my mouth shut until Thatch said otherwise.

This left me with only one other option. Zipcars.

I didn’t have a membership, but Tony, my neighbor across the hall, had one, and he also owed me a huge favor for doing a boudoir shoot for his five-year anniversary with his girlfriend, Francesca.

It was no secret I was a pretty successful photographer, and since I tended to have an open-door policy regarding anything sexual and perverted, it wasn’t the first time someone had asked me to do a risqué type shoot. And if I’m being honest, my career had me in a lot of situations where I was snapping pics of half-naked men. It was definitely a perk, and I had met a lot of fantastic men doing what I did.

But the huge favor wasn’t related to the actual logistics of the shoot.

The favor was because he hadn’t given me a heads-up on the PDA situation between him and his girlfriend. Picture lots of dry humping and tongue fucking. Needless to say, I could’ve done without seeing his boner for the entire sixty minutes. And since I hadn’t finished the final proofs for their shoot, I knew I had a really good chance of getting my hands on Tony’s Zipcar membership.

After a quick phone call, I was at his door and having déjà vu from their horny boudoir shoot. Francesca was literally tits out with only a pair of boy shorts covering her curvy frame. Tony stood behind her, sleepily pawing her ass.

If I hadn’t known I was in my apartment building, I would’ve thought I had just stumbled on to a soft-core porno shoot. Since I had no desire to be their fluffer, I grabbed the membership from Francesca and offered a heartfelt apology for waking them up in the middle of the night, strongly expressing that I was in a hurry.

Hot Read

Last Updated

Recommend

Top Books