Home > Banking the Billionaire (Bad Boy Billionaires #2)(6)

Banking the Billionaire (Bad Boy Billionaires #2)(6)
Author: Max Monroe

“Sheriff Miller?” I repeated his words, having a pretty good idea where this conversation was headed. I mean, I was still kind of half asleep, but it didn’t take a genius to deduce the basic details. “Tell me you’re not calling me from where I think you’re calling me from.”

“Yeah, about that…” He trailed off, voice uncertain. “Have you ever been upstate before?”

“For fuck’s sake, Thatch,” I muttered, rubbing sleepy irritation from my eyes.

“Listen, Cass, I know I’m a pain in the ass.”

“I’m gonna put a fucking pain in your ass, all right,” I grumbled, voice thick with sleep and exasperation.

Thatch forged on, unfazed. “But I kind of got arrested tonight and I was hoping you’d be a sweetheart and come bail me out,” he said, just as a robot-like voice warned that the allotted time for his call would be ending soon.

“Kind of got arrested?” I spouted back. “It sounds like you are arrested, motherfucker.”

“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.

Because I was. I needed to get the fuck out of their doorway before Tony started stroking his baloney pony.

“No worries, girlfriend. I’m just glad we could help,” she said before they headed back inside their apartment probably to bone until someone passed out or went numb.

Once I hit the sidewalk, I hailed a cab and instructed the driver to head toward the Zipcar pickup that was about twenty blocks from my apartment. Thanks to the time of night, I was hopping out and tipping the cabbie within ten minutes.

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