The Billionaire's Heart

Nervous laughter burst out of Samira. “Oh shit, Tariq! Hi, Craig. Sorry to come crashing in. I didn’t know you were into the kinky stuff, but maybe you should pop a note on the door in future?”

Tariq didn’t laugh – his face remained severe; full of terror. Samira glanced at the other guy in the room and suddenly realised who he was. The as**shole from the hotel who Ivan had beaten up.

Ivan pulled her towards himself. “What the hell’s going on? Why are you here?”

Jeremy smirked. “I suppose I should explain. As you’ve probably realised, I don’t actually work in a hotel. I was there the other night trying to speak to Samira, hoping I might pump her for information. The men I’m working for are very interested in your little project and we hoped she might give it up. She turned out not to be as stupid as I’d hoped, but I meant what I said about having friends in high places. If I don’t kill you today, Samira, you will be heading back to Iran – I’ll make sure of it. You should’ve been nicer to me, you know. But… perhaps we can still work something out, hmm?”

“Fuck you,” she said. “I’d rather die or be deported than do anything with you.”

Samira sensed that Ivan was about to explode behind her. “Stop f**king around, motherfucker, and tell us who the hell you’re working for.”

Jeremy sneered. “My employer occupies a much higher status than you could ever imagine.”

“I’ve got a pretty good imagination.”

“Well, I’m afraid I can’t tell you, so you’ll just have to keep wondering. Not that you’ll be alive for much longer… Samira, I as**sume your tough-guy boyfriend isn’t planning to attack me while I’m holding a gun?”

Samira didn’t know how to answer Jeremy’s question, but as her gaze fell on Craig, she asked a question of her own. “Craig – what the hell are you doing?”

“He’s turned double-agent,” Jeremy said. “I offered him money to work for me, and he took it. You can buy anyone for the right price, you know.”

Ivan held Samira tight from behind. She could feel his heart thumping against her back. “Let me guess,” he said. “You’re working for the same people who scared off our business reps the other day?”

Jeremy smirked. “He’s clever for such a brute, isn’t he?”

Ivan’s voice shook with anger. “Just tell us what the f**k’s going on!”

Jeremy remained cool and calm. “My employer asked me to follow you here from New York. He said I need to stop you. I need to take your work and deliver it to him. And then I need to kill you. All of you. I’ll probably let Craig do the honours.”

“I didn’t agree to killing anyone!” Craig said.

Jeremy ignored him. He stared through Samira at Ivan. “But only after you tell us where you’ve stashed your work.”

“Never!” Tariq shouted.

Jeremy turned and slapped Tariq across the face. “Shut it. You’ve already made it clear you won’t help. I oughta kill you now.”

Samira’s heart twisted as she watched the blood trickle from her cousin’s nose. “I’ll never f**king tell you where I’ve hidden it!” he shouted.

“Well if you won’t tell me, perhaps Ivan will? Or how about your pretty little cousin?”

Ivan stepped in front of Samira, shielding her from Jeremy. “You stay away from her. Remember what happened last time we met?”

“Oh I remember,” Jeremy said. “But that won’t happen again. Not if I shoot you.”

“No!” Samira shouted.

Jeremy raised the gun and smirked, then he squeezed the trigger. In slow motion, Ivan turned and shoved Samira out of the line of fire. She fell to the marble floor as the bullet struck Ivan’s shoulder, forcing him backwards. Time sped up as he flew across the kitchen with the momentum of the shot, then he crumpled with a thud against the refrigerator, holding his wounded shoulder, which was already soaked with dark red blood.

Samira heard Craig’s voice as if he was underwater. “Jeremy, you said you wouldn’t hurt anyone!”

Samira scrabbled to her hands and knees and propelled herself over to Ivan, but Jeremy stepped in front of her and yanked her roughly to her feet. He pulled her against himself, holding her in place like a hostage – pressing the gun hard against her cheek. Samira breathed deeply. She forced herself to focus… she’d been through this type of terror before and survived. The police in Iran were pretty trigger-happy – and she’d known when she’d been arrested that they took delight in taking turns on ‘immoral’ women. Pigs that they were. Nothing like that had happened to her thank god, but it’d taught her how to manage fear… Allow it to come up and try to stay calm.

? Also By Julie Farrell

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