Bigger and Badder (A Caldwell Hope Billionaire Romance)

  Bigger and Badder

  Jackson Kane

  Bigger and Badder© 2020 by Jackson Kane

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any written, electronic, recorded, or photocopied format without the express permission from the author or publisher as allowed under the terms and conditions with which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution, circulation or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.

  Bigger and Badder is a work of fiction. All names, characters, events and places found therein are either from the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to persons alive or dead, actual events, locations, or organizations is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  For information, contact the publisher, Hot Tree Publishing.

  www.hottreepublishing.com

  Editing: Hot Tree Editing

  Cover Designer: BookSmith Design

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-922359-27-8

  Paperback ISBN: 978-1-922359-28-5

  Contents

  1. Garrett

  2. Judy

  3. Garrett

  4. Judy

  5. Garrett

  6. Judy

  7. Judy

  8. Garrett

  9. Judy

  10. Garrett

  11. Judy

  12. Garrett

  13. Judy

  14. Garrett

  15. Garrett

  16. Judy

  17. Judy

  18. Garrett

  19. Judy

  20. Garrett

  21. Judy

  22. Garrett

  23. Judy

  24. Garrett

  25. Garrett

  26. Judy

  27. Garrett

  28. Garrett

  29. Judy

  30. Garrett

  31. Garrett

  32. Judy

  Epilogue

  Also by Jackson Kane

  About the Author

  About the Publisher

  More From Hot Tree Publishing

  Dedicated to Tasha Hooks and to Harlow Kane. Without their patience, support, guidance and friendship this book wouldn't exist. Thank you for everything, ladies.

  One

  Garrett

  “We're entering Caldwell Hope now, sir.” Mitch's voice squawked over my luxury helicopter's intercom. I’d have flown myself, but I used the travel time to make a few conference calls.

  My thumbs rotated their respective black bands as I watched the mountaintops fall away to reveal the smattering of lights of the valley below. They looked like a ball of old Christmas lights that no one bothered to untangle before they plugged them in. Fitting, what with the end of the year holidays only a few weeks away and all.

  “I shouldn't be back here,” I spoke the words quietly to myself, idly fingering the black tungsten ring I wore on each hand's ring finger. Immediately a wave of unease sank into my stomach like I'd swallowed hot lead paste.

  From this height, I could see how empty the town had become. An early Wednesday night in a resort town during their busy season should've been bristling with activity. It wasn't. Even some of the shops on the main strip had darkened windows.

  That bunch of Christmas lights had far too many blown bulbs.

  My watch face lit up with a deposit notification. My birthday goal was so close I could taste it. I scrolled to the next email. It was a forwarded message from my assistant, Michael. My nomination into the Pro Football Hall of Fame had been approved.

  Not bad. I was going to be the youngest person to ever hit thirty billion and one of next year's hall-of-famers. It felt good, in the way eating a pint of ice cream in one sitting does. The feeling was too fleeting.

  I should've been on top of the world, but I couldn't shake a feeling that this was a mistake. Caldwell Hope had been the beginning of the end for Heidi and me.

  That was a long time ago. I have to let it go.

  The pilot banked right. The white and yellow dots of street and shop lights gave way to a blazing torch. The CW Kings Stadium came into view, in all of its grand, hopeful, and stupidly unfinished glory.

  “Touch down in three minutes, sir.”

  I told Mitch to swing around. I wanted to see what they were trying to hide. In the wide arc I saw the rest of the city. I'd read the dossier and compared it in my mind against the last time I’d come to town so long ago now. It was more of an idyllic, tourist village than a city, especially now that the coal industry had completely dried up.

  High above the valley, a palatial mansion was nestled into a gloomy mountain face; it overlooked the small wounded kingdom that was Caldwell Hope. Massive amounts of light radiated off the mansion, staving off the choking darkness. It was a comforting nightlight for an entire town.

  Don't worry, it seemed to say, everything's going to be all right.

  I knew better.

  They didn't invite the Grim Reaper of Wall Street into their town if they had any other options.

  A large swath of flat blackness on the valley floor was broken by pin pricks of flood lighting. The golf course? I jerked forward and leaned over in my seat and spotted the clubhouse. Immediately, I thought of dancing with the girl I'd almost met that Halloween night.

  Funny... all these years later and I'd never fully stopped thinking about her.

  My pilot began his descent into the parking lot, which was the previously agreed on landing zone. The front entrance of the stadium was awash with color and music for my arrival. There were city officials, news vans, and a full band. This felt more like a rock concert than a business meeting.

  I'd been to red carpet functions with less pomp.

  I sighed, checking my watch. Four hours until my last and most important appointment of the night. Plenty of time.

  This wasn't what we agreed on. I told them to keep this small and out of the news. Was this their way of forcing me to help? Expose me to the press and have public opinion lean on me?

  “Hey, Mitch? How many cameras you think they have on us?”

  They didn’t know who they were dealing with if they thought they could shame me into saving their town.

  “No idea, sir”

  “What do you say we give them a show?” I opened a small compartment overhead and unzipped the bag inside. Glancing back out the window, I could see dozens of people huddled together under massive exterior heat lamps to keep from freezing in the bitter December wind. Well, they were about to warm up. “Pull back up and take me over the twenty-yard line. I’m going to take the express way down.”

  Two

  Judy

  “This is ridiculous!” my dad shouted. “Where the hell is he going?”

  “Paul….” A board member groped for my dad distractedly while following our guest’s flight with his eyes, then tapped his shoulder when we all noticed the helicopter stop and hover high above the stadium.

  The helicopter was a dark blot before a cloudless moon. The gesture was chilling and grand; it felt like we were all being surveyed by an alien or a god.

  There were nearly fifteen of us crowded together beneath the heat lamps of the main stadium entrance: my father, five other board members, Monica, who was the head of Public Relations, a three-piece string band, several assistants, and me. That wasn’t counting the associated press and the government officials.

  What the hell was I doing here?

  My dad slapped the board member’s hand away. Dad was the boa
rd’s chairman and demanded respect from his contemporaries. He was about to reprimand the man when my gasp startled us.

  My hands cupped my mouth and I screamed as I watched a speck break off that dark blot and come plummeting toward the ground. I couldn’t form sentences if my life depended on it, but if I could’ve, I would’ve screamed, Holy fucking shit, someone just fell out of the helicopter!

  My dad grabbed me as if somehow he could protect me from the chaos of the world. My stomach clenched, then lurched. I just knew that hearing the impact was going to make me sick. Watching whoever it was fall terrified me, but not for my own safety.

  I’d never seen anyone die before….

  Then a parachute opened.

  “Oh, thank God!” I sighed, feeling like I was about to fall over from relief. I was suddenly freezing. The excitement had made me sweat, which made the cold winter air chill me to the bone.

  A wave of disapproval made its way through the crowd on the ground. They obviously weren’t pleased by our guest’s showy entrance, but they kept their voices down, not wanting a man hundreds of feet above us to hear them. As if that were even possible.

  Were they that scared of this guy?

  I watched the falling man’s form slowly descend, becoming more and more man-shaped by the second. “Who is this guy?”

  “Garrett Walker,” Monica answered curtly, as if the name should mean something to me. All I knew about him was that he was some rich investor. I wasn’t asked to do any research. I was just told to be here by Dad for my never-ending quest of “getting experience.”

  “The Grim Reaper of Wall Street,” Monica said, shooting a glare at me that spoke volumes about me not belonging here.

  Monica didn’t like me, but she was careful not to show it too much. I was, after all, the boss’s daughter. That made me the most popular outcast no matter how friendly I was or how hard I worked.

  In this case she was right, though. I had no business meeting some pompous billionaire. It was a different story back when I co-owned Black Rocket Records, but… that was another life.

  “So… are we glossing over the fact that our potential investor just jumped out of a friggin’ helicopter?” The words tumbled out of my mouth as I looked around for confirmation that his actions were the craziest thing to ever happen. “Everyone saw that, right?”

  I knew we desperately needed money, but how could we be okay with this? Obviously this person was out of their mind. Who did something like that?

  “His father warned me that Garrett was a little on the unorthodox side.” Dad’s mouth gaped in awe as he watched the man’s descent.

  “Unorthodox is wearing a teal suit with an orange cowboy hat, Dad. This guy is downright insane! Do you really want to partner up with someone who thinks gravity is a viable mode of transportation?”

  “Attend and observe, daughter,” he repeated from earlier in the day. Then he gave me a look that said, and try not to talk too much.

  That wasn’t my fault. I always talked a lot when I got nervous. And knowing how much was riding on this meeting… I was plenty nervous.

  All I wanted to do was go home, listen to some music, and paint.

  “Also, don't mention Aaron Miller around Garrett,” Dad warned. “Those two have the biggest rivalry in sports history.”

  I thought about asking for clarification, but I decided to wait until after the meeting for that. I doubted I'd even be able to remember that Aaron guy's name, let alone use it, while Garrett was around.

  We all stood in front of a one-hundred-fifty-foot wall of shining metal and glass. The main entrance was by far the most finished and presentable part of the stadium—that’s why we were all set up there. I might not have known who this billionaire was, but I did know how meticulously the meeting was planned.

  Garrett Walker was supposed to be greeted here with music and smiles, then be ushered into the luxury boxes for hors d’oeuvres and buttery small talk. He’d be given displays and presentations, then be taken through a carefully laid out “guided” tour that showed off the best of what the Caldwell Hope stadium had to offer.

  Apparently Garrett had other ideas.

  “Sonofabitch,” Dad cursed, pushing past several people still dazed by the presentation. “He’s headed into the field. Let’s go. Move your asses, people! Christ, it’s like I’m dealing with that damn King boy.”

  Now there was a mad dash to preserve as much of that first impression as possible. The band abruptly stopped playing; one musician even dropped their instrument when they were shoved accidentally by a rushing board member. Everyone frantically dashed through Gate A past the ticket lines, through the unfinished seating sections, and out to the field itself.

  I was struggling to keep up with the pack. I wore a white dress that was warm but restrictive as hell. My only saving grace was that I wore flats and not heels. I was already taller than my boss and didn’t want to give Monica any more reasons to hate me.

  Garrett Walker stood alone at the forty-yard line and tugged at the cuff of his suit jacket, straightening it. He looked like James Bond standing there unfazed, like he didn’t just jump out of a damn helicopter!

  Garrett had already removed his parachute harness and protective gear, and was viewing the unfinished stadium with the discerning eye of a man who knew what he was looking for. Dad would compare this to a food critic who walked directly into the back of the restaurant before trying the food.

  This was definitely not in the plan.

  “Mr. Walker!” Dad shouted from the end zone, waving at the billionaire. He slowed to a light jog, then a walk, so he could catch his breath, and so the other board members could catch up.

  I thought about all the athletes that would eventually run across this field and how much faster they would’ve closed the distance. We were a gaggle of overdressed businesspeople clumsily half jogging across the Astroturf. We were probably the most out-of-shape bunch of people that would ever step foot out here, let alone be running.

  Garrett turned to face us. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and waited for us to run to him. He made no motion that he was going to move or be inconvenienced in any way. Almost all of the stadium lights were on, which made the vision of him more imposing. He was one arrogantly confident man in a sea of green. It looked like the whole world was his stage.

  What an ass.

  The least he could do was meet us halfway. Who did he think he was?

  Dad had a genuine grin on his face when I eventually joined him. Everyone else huffed and puffed behind us. Someone told the band to start, and they did. Fortunately for the musicians, they all had string and not wind instruments.

  “What is it?” I asked Dad cautiously. I thought he’d be furious at the stunt Garrett pulled, instead he almost looked impressed.

  “Smart. Very smart,” he said, clearly to himself, through winded breaths. Dad cocked an eye at me when he saw me listening intently. “It’s a power play. Not only did he shock us out of whatever preplanned spiel we had in mind by jumping out of the helicopter, but by forcing us to come to him instead of the other way around, he’s making a statement even before the meeting begins. He’s saying that—”

  “He’s in control,” I interrupted absently as I studied Garrett who patiently waited for us to approach. With a nickname like the Grim Reaper of whatever, I imagined some gaunt, ugly guy, not a tall wall of muscle.

  God, he was handsome.

  His short brown hair was lightly tousled by the wind, but still parted to one side. With broad shoulders and chest, and thick arms, he filled out his tailored suit and jacket perfectly. Not even Gloria’s billionaire husband, Richard, dressed this well.

  “For now.” Dad winked at me. “Your old man’s still got a few tricks up his sleeve. Keep up, Judy.”

  “Huh?” I asked, slowing down. I wasn’t paying as much attention to Dad as I should have been. My brain could either ogle over this hottie or walk, not both. I forced my head down and sped up, reminding myself tha
t this was business and that I had to be professional. “Yeah, of course!”

  I wasn’t great at being professional, but I was trying. I really wanted to show Dad that I could handle the responsibility this time. I wasn’t about to let some rich guy screw me up. No matter how handsome he was.

  “Mr. Sullivan?” Garrett asked, extending his hand.

  “Yes,” Dad said, the heaviness of his breathing from the run over had finally disappeared. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Walker. It seems you took the scenic route.”

  “I like to make my own way.” Garrett had a hint of a New Zealand accent that straightened my spine. It wasn’t just that his deep, sexy voice sent shivers through me, I also recognized it.

  He used to be a big deal football player. I remembered his poster was hung up on my roommate’s wall in college. It was the last thing I saw every night when I went to sleep.

  He wore a few days of stubble over his chiseled jaw; it wasn’t thick enough to hide the dimples in his cheeks, but it was dark enough to highlight his light, piercingly blue eyes.

  Wait a minute. Why was everyone so hot and bothered over a football player? Last I heard, he quit playing five years ago. He was pretty, but he was a jock. I hated to stereotype, but playing football and running a stadium were completely different things.

  How much could he possibly know about that side of things?

  Garrett smoothly surveyed the crowd that gathered around him. Everyone said hello, some tried to introduce themselves fully, but no one could hold his interest long enough to get out their full title. Then, to my surprise, his gaze stopped on me. His eyes were the color of cresting waves and about a thousand times as deep.