A Billionaire for Christmas (All I want for Christmas is... 3)

1

There was something off about Santa.

Either that, or he’d gotten a whole lot shorter, skinnier and female since the last time Heath Goldwin, III had seen him. From the shadowed alcove where he’d taken up residence, Heath split his attention between the odd-looking bell-ringer and the doorway to the office building nearby.

He was here on this chilly late December night waiting for a glimpse of his quarry, Senator Milford Lawrence of Kentucky. A man about as crooked as they came, at least from the investigation Heath and his team had conducted, and a person of interest in his best friend Murphy Coen’s little sister’s disappearance.

Well, if one considered the age of twenty-five little. Heath honestly didn’t know anything about having a sibling, being an only child himself. But he did consider the guys from his old special ops team—Murphy and another man named Daveed Rafik—about as close to brothers as he was going to get in this lifetime. And if Murphy needed Heath’s help to find his sister, then he’d damn well see the mission done.

A particularly biting wind swirled and Heath gathered his thick wool coat closer around his body. Normally, he stayed indoors during the surveillance work he and the guys did on projects or persons that interested them. He’d been the leader of their special ops team back in the Middle East and his specialty was strategizing—working out the intricate details of the group’s plans and implementing them in the most effective, efficient way possible. It was what had made him such a good solider and what had made him rich in his own life as a civilian outside the military. And yeah, Heath had come from a wealthy family, but he’d never rested on those laurels, choosing instead to build a tech company on his own from the ground up and using that to leverage his trust fund into a billion-dollar business.

In other words, he wasn’t usually out in the field getting his hands dirty. Not that he minded hard work. It was just that analysis suited his style better than brute physicality.

Heath hunkered against the brick wall beside him as another gust of arctic wind whistled through the alcove. The snowy weather in Manhattan this year had hit early and with brutal force, leaving a constant foot of snow on the ground and a persistent chill in Heath’s bones.

Hell, you sound like an old man.

He wasn’t, only thirty-six. But there were times since he’d gotten back from his last deployment in Afghanistan with The Three Doves—a name he and the guys had chosen because even though they were military, their ultimate goal was peace—when Heath felt truly ancient. It was more mental exhaustion, he supposed, than anything. Seeing the horrors of war firsthand and the brutal, selfish lengths some went to in order to gain and keep power made his stomach turn and his soul shrivel. That was another reason why he was out here. From what they’d uncovered, Senator Lawrence was on some kind of power trip himself, both literally and figuratively, and he intended to put a stop to it. As soon as he located Aileen Coen, of course.

Maybe by finding her, hopefully alive and well, Heath could pay back the huge debt he owed Murphy for saving his ass more than once back in the desert. Maybe Heath could find some of his old enthusiasm for life too. But unfortunately, today at least, all Heath had found was frustration and frostbite.

He winced slightly as he adjusted his weight. His left leg was going numb again, dammit. Nerve damage and arthritis from an old riding injury. Which only served to make him feel even older. With a sigh, he leaned his shoulder against the freezing brick and shifted his attention back to the mysterious Santa impersonator again. He figured the charity was probably equal opportunity just like everyone else, but there still seemed something odd about her. Behind that fluffy

white fake beard and bushy gray wig, the woman’s features were too delicate, somehow familiar and those eyes—like the finest amber, sharp and wary as if looking for trouble behind every stranger’s face. He’d seen those eyes before, Heath was sure of it.

Not to mention how the woman seemed as keen to keep an eye on the doorway of that office building as Heath. More telling, she’d not once glanced at any of the people streaming in and out of the shop behind her, even the ones sliding coins and bills into the red bucket suspended on a tripod in front of her. Just kept ringing that bell in her hand and staring at the entrance. Strange that, given how supposedly her entire purpose in being here was to raise money for the underprivileged.

The glass revolving doors to the office building began to spin and Heath snapped his attention back to the real task at hand—finding Senator Lawrence and getting close enough to him to ask him questions about Aileen Coen’s disappearance. That office building held the corporate offices of EnKor Energy, allegedly one of the nation’s most innovative green energy companies. The research Heath’s team had collected suggested otherwise, however, and seemed to suggest that Senator Lawrence—who also happened to be head of the Senate’s Energy and Natural Resources Committee—was somehow involved in the fraud. The fact his nephew, Frank Kent, was CEO of EnKor didn’t help to ease Heath’s suspicions either. The senator stepped outside, but before Heath could cross the busy street, a black SUV swerved up to the curb and blocked his view. Cursing, he moved farther down the curb to try and get a better view, wading through the snow and ice in his hand-stitched leather boots from the same company in London that made waders for the Queen, battling the thick holiday crowds along the way.

Soon, the SUV pulled away, taking the Senator with it. And there went his best shot at getting new information about Aileen’s whereabouts.

Shit, piss, and damn.

Mumbling under his breath, Heath trudged down the packed sidewalk, following the slow progression of the SUV in the late afternoon traffic and then turned back slightly to see what his female Santa was doing at that point. But he found she’d packed up her gear and was heading down the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street in the same direction, her gaze locked on the SUV as well. Alarm bells went off in his head and an idea started to form, nebulous at first, but gaining ground with each step he took.

He’d met Murphy’s sister Aileen a couple of times over the years and remembered her being about a foot shorter than his own six-three. He also remembered what she lacked in height, she made up for in attitude. Heath snorted as he dodged a group of tourists taking photos on the sidewalk, then spotted the SUV stopped at the red light ahead. Murphy and his sister were both of Irish-Jewish decent, with dark hair and big personalities. But where Murphy had dark eyes and tended to look almost Arabic, Aileen had a paler complexion and light, amber-colored eyes…

Holy shit. It couldn’t be that simple, could it?

The light turned green and Heath crossed the street, keeping an eye on the SUV and Santa at the same time. If the itinerary hadn’t changed, Senator Lawrence was due to stop at a venue in Central Park to do some glad-handing with his constituents. Midterm elections were coming up the following year and all the elected officials in his party were eager to retain their majority in Congress. Throbbing pain zinged up Heath’s leg, but he pushed it aside as usual. He’d broken his left leg when he’d been a kid by tumbling off one of his father’s prize polo ponies while trying to impress him. Even after hiring the finest orthopedic surgeon money could buy to patch up Heath’s shattered bones, the leg had never quite healed correctly, leaving him with permanent nerve damage and a slight limp. It ached worse in the cold, another gift from his early-onset arthritis. At least his disability hadn’t kept him from joining the Navy. His father’s influence and the family’s money had turned out to have some advantages in the end.

Ahead, about a half a block away, the SUV swerved to the curb again near the Charles A. Discovery Center. The driver put the blinkers on then got out and came around the vehicle to assist the senator. Two hulking bodyguards, along with a small contingent of Secret Service agents, flanked the elderly man as he stepped down onto the sidewalk. Another reminder that looks could be deceiving. Milford Lawrence looked like someone’s kindly old grandpa, with his slightly stooped posture, balding white head, wire-rimmed glasses, and kindly smile. But behind that façade was a businessman every bit as ruthless as the sharks that swam down on Wall Street.

The notes left behind by Murphy’s sister Aileen before her disappearance suggested she might’ve gotten too close to a story about Lawrence for her own good. She was a reporter for the New York Globe newspaper and fancied herself a hard-hitting investigative journalist, though up until now the most controversial story she’d covered had been an alleged case of stolen dog food at last year’s Westminster Dog Show. Turned out to have just been a mix up with the tags backstage, but Murphy always joked that Aileen was like a pit bull when it came to a story. He said his sister refused to give up on an idea until she had irrefutable proof it wasn’t viable. If that was true, and she’d gone after the senator to prove he had shady dealings with the energy companies he was tasked to oversee, then that could have cost Aileen her freedom. Or worse.

In the right circumstances, Heath could understand her kind of loyalty and dedication, even admire it. But this mess with the Senator wasn’t one of them. And after he and his team had uncovered evidence of what appeared to be evolving into a massive conspiracy between Senator Lawrence and his nephew Frank Kent to commit fraud involving EnKor, well that put finding Aileen at the top of Heath’s to-do list.

He finally crossed with the light over to the Central Park side of Broadway and spotted his mysterious woman in the Santa suit just ahead, setting her bucket of money down beside a homeless man with a dog cuddled on his lap, then ditching the tripod in the bushes before running along the perimeter of the park. Heath’s earlier suspicions grew into more. She was the right height and build for Aileen and if the way she’d given that money away without a second thought was any indication, she sure as hell didn’t work for the charity she’d claimed back on the corner in front of the office building.

Heath shadowed her, weaving through the gathered clusters of people who’d stopped to admire the lights and decorations and carolers singing. Inside a cordoned off area of the Discovery Center, he saw Senator Lawrence standing on a small dais, giving a speech that was being amplified over speakers strung through the park’s trees, always using any opportunity to sell his new energy legislation, claiming it would benefit the hardest hit Americans—the elderly and the forgotten blue-collar citizens.

Lawrence’s public persona came across as very affable and cordial, but Heath wasn’t fooled. He’d spent his whole life growing up amongst the rarified wealthy and he knew exactly how most of his father’s generation operated—all for one. That was it. No “one for all.” The buck started and stopped in their own wallets, period. Heath had learned that lesson early on at his father’s knee and he’d spent the rest of his life trying to distance himself from that philosophy, trying to make a difference for the betterment of everyone, not just the top one percent.

A flash of red caught his attention from the periphery and Heath turned to find his Santa waiting in the line of people to greet the senator once his speech was over. She’d pulled off her hat and fake beard now, leaving only the gray wig in place, and Heath raced forward once more. No doubt in his mind now that this was Murphy’s missing sister. That face, those eyes.

Aileen.

His heart stumbled and his blood pounded loud in his ears.

There was no mistaking those elfin features or the determined set to her full lips, the same dogged expression he’d seen on Murphy’s face every time they’d gotten together to go over his sister’s case for the past few weeks. Part of Heath wanted to make a beeline over there and hoist the woman over his shoulder, caveman style, and carry her back to the apartment where Murphy and Daveed wait

ed for his latest update.

But the other part of him couldn’t seem to stop staring at her beauty. Which was ridiculous. This was his target, his best bud’s little sister. Heath had no business lusting over her, no matter how attractive she was. Besides, she was treading in very dangerous waters when it came to this whole energy fraud deal with a US senator and if he had found her so easily, chances were good that Lawrence could too, given his vast resources.

Besides, charging over there would only spook Aileen and Heath couldn’t risk losing her again after only just now finding her. He needed to wait until she was distracted before he made his move. So, Heath waited and watched from several feet away, taking cover in the crowds surrounding him. A few times, Aileen’s gaze darted his direction, but she looked away again quickly as if she hadn’t spotted him. And honestly, he was betting on the fact she wouldn’t recognize him anyway. One more reason he’d let his appearance go a bit shaggy over the past few weeks. With his beard and his messy hair, he looked a far cry from the preppy hipster Aileen had met the last time they were introduced.

All the better to catch my prey.