A Billionaire for Christmas

Jesse looks at me. We make confused faces at each other. Then he looks back at the man in black. “Then… what is your concern?”

“Some people would like to talk to you. I was sent to pick you up.”

“What people?” Jesse asks.

“I’m afraid that’s above my pay grade. Now let’s get back to the van.”

“No,” Jesse says. He pushes me behind him and puts his hands out in front of him. “We’re not going anywhere until you tell us who sent you.”

But then one of the SUV thugs points a gun in the air and shoots it. I jump and maybe even squeal a little, because it was loud and I was not expecting that.

“What the fuck!” Jesse yells. “What the fuck is going on?”

The shooter pops off another warning shot.

The man in black lowers his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, and glares at Jesse. “Get in the fucking van, Jesse Boston. You’re the last one on our list today. We’ve already got your brothers in custody and if you ever want to see them or their loved ones alive again, you’d better start cooperating.”

And I swear to God the entire desert goes silent in the aftermath of that revelation.Chapter SeventeenEmma just stares at me.

And I get it. This is stupid. This can’t be real. There’s a major part of my brain still insisting that this is all fake.

But there’s plenty of reasons why this could be real. We are the fuckin’ Boston brothers. We have more money than God. We’re part of some super-secret organization that does who knows what, all over the globe. And people kinda love to hate me.

But some of this makes no sense.

I could actually see Joey getting himself caught by some thugs if he was alone and not with his partners. But Johnny? There is no way that Johnny Boston would allow himself to get caught. He’s too smart. Too ruthless. Too suspicious of pretty much everyone.

But… coming home with Megan and moving out of the Bossy resulted in a major upset in his normally super-tight security protocols. And, though I hate to admit this, if people want to get to Johnny Boston now, all they have to do is grab Megan. Especially since she’s pregnant.

He would flip out if someone got a hold of Megan. Or hell, they could just grab his new puppy. He loves that crazy puppy.

Megan and Jasper are Johnny’s weaknesses just like Emma is mine. Just like Wald, and Huck, and Brooke, and Maisy are Joey’s.

So… this could be real. They might actually have Joey and Johnny somewhere. They could have Megan, and Brooke, and Huck, and Wald too.

We could be fucked.

Mr. Boston. That’s what they’re calling me. And those fake people back in the chapel… they did react when they heard my last name.

Yeah. This is about the Bostons. I can feel it in my bones.

“OK,” I finally say.

We get out of the car.

Emma is stunned and just stares at me, unable to move. So I take her hands, raise them up, and then turn her around and point her in the direction of the van. “We’re walking.”

“This has to be a joke. Right?” she pleads.

I turn my head to look at her, not sure what to say. “I don’t know, Emma. But I’m not going to take any chances. Not when it comes to you. I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For dragging you into my stupid, fucked-up life. If you weren’t with me none of this would be happening to you.”

She huffs. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s got to be fake.”

“Well, if it is… then why are those two dudes next to the van holding zip ties and black hoods?”

“Oh, my God,” she whispers. “We’re gonna die.”

“We’re not. Well, you’re not. Whatever they want, I’ll give it to them. They want me? Fine. They can have me if they let you go.”

“Fine?” she hisses. “No! That’s not fine. We were married four times today. What part of that whole ‘till death do us part’ thing don’t you understand?”

“Well… not to be a buzzkill here, but we didn’t actually get married at any of those weddings, Emma.”

“It doesn’t matter! It’s the thought that counts! We stood up four times in front of people with the intention of being married! It counts!”

We reach the men. They spin us around and zip-tie our hands and then drop the hoods over our heads. We’re walked forward and we climb into the back of the van. There are no seats or anything, so we back up against the side and lean into each other.

The doors slam closed and then there’s nothing but silence. A few seconds later the van jostles back and forth as the driver gets in. Then we’re moving.

There’s no way to tell which direction we’re headed or where we’re going. And for a long while there’s no real road noise either. But then eventually it becomes clear that we’re back in the city. Whether this is Vegas or not remains to be seen, I guess. But there’s stop-and-go traffic, and long waits at stoplights, and lots of turning.