Chapter 5
Montgomery
“Welcome to Stowe, Mr. Prince.”
My God, the attitude in the woman grated my last nerve. Everyone in town knew I’d arrived. Fucking perfect. So much for complete anonymity.
Where in the hell had I been banished to?
The town wasn’t just small. Compared to New Orleans, it was no bigger than a gnat. And if the townspeople thought they were going to get into my business, they had another think coming.
Had the girl really called me arrogant or had I assumed that was what she was thinking?
While the plane had landed on time, the rental vehicle brought to the airport so that I didn’t have a minute’s delay, after that I’d been forced to forge the rest of the way on my own.
The forty-minute drive from Burlington hadn’t allowed me to clear my head.
Instead, I’d grown angrier with every passing mile.
Alexander had taunted me again, calling minutes after I’d stepped onto the jet. He hadn’t trusted that I’d follow his letter of the law. I knew when to pick my battles. I’d suffer for a week and then head back.
That would be long enough. If everyone else in town was like the brassy redhead I’d met, I’d freaking go nuts by then.
Just thinking about her had me twisting my hand on the steering wheel. Her picture was in the dictionary next to ballbuster.
For whatever reason karma had tossed us together not once but twice, the bad taste lingered.
I glanced at the mailbox a second time before glancing at my phone. This was the right address.
A house on the side of the mountain. Great. If the woman was right about snow, with the windy roads, I could find myself stuck. The last thing I needed was to feel like a caged animal.
And why the hell hadn’t the rental car company given me a vehicle with either four-wheel drive or snow tires? I’d call them in the morning and give the owner a piece of my mind.
As I pulled down the driveway, I heard Alexander’s voice in my head. “You’ll enjoy yourself. Get out in the fresh air. Take a walk. Go skiing.”
Right. Skiing. I hadn’t been skiing since I was a little boy.
At least I’d brought some work with me. That would help with the time given I certainly had no reason to go into town. The only reason I’d gone before was to pick up the key from the real estate agent. And what had occurred?
I’d run into a fire devil.
I had to admit the woman was stunning, in a feral way. With dazzling long red hair, glistening like a copper penny, and light green eyes the color of early spring grass, she’d managed to capture my attention.
A split second before bouncing into me given she hadn’t been paying any attention.
Why a laugh surfaced I didn’t know, but her feisty attitude had latched onto me. Let alone her caustic mouth. But somehow, she’d managed to leave a lasting impression.
Maybe it was the way the faded blue jeans had hugged every curve or the soft sweater that failed to hide her excitement. Yes, her nipples had been like perfect diamonds and I’d been no gentleman, enjoying the way her full breasts had bobbed up and down when yelling at me.
Maybe there was something to be said for insolent, opinionated women. When they were slightly disobedient, all the better.
My hand itched from the thought of spanking her rounded bottom.
With her attitude being so crass, I had a strong feeling a round of discipline wouldn’t produce the effect I’d be hoping for. Besides, she’d likely hold a sharp blade to my neck in the middle of the night.
My dick twitched and I realized I hadn’t smiled so much since the assassination attempt.
As soon as I pulled up to the house, the outside security lights turned on. With twilight settling in, I was eager to get inside. Thankfully, as Alexander had mentioned, the pantry, fridge, and liquor cabinet had been stocked. That meant I wouldn’t need to go anywhere for a while if at all.
It was a small town like the vixen had tossed out. Barely over five thousand people. What were the chances of running into her again? Too high on the casino scale.
While there was an attached three-car garage and another detached one sitting off to the side in the trees, I parked in front of the house for now.
I remained inside the SUV for a couple of minutes. As I’d done several times, I thought about what my brother had said as well as the concern in his voice.
I’d fallen prey to feeling sorry for myself.
What a crock of shit.
Grabbing the bag, I glared at the cane I’d carelessly tossed into the backseat. My leg ached more than before, maybe from the tension of driving. Or from the confrontation with the woman.
There I went again, thinking about the stunning redhead.
Fuck the cane. It was time for me to build strength in my thigh muscles and leaning on a piece of steel was nothing but another excuse.
Living in my own pity party.
The air was crisp, clean, and cold, the scent of pine filling the air instead of the fragrance of Cajun food and exhaust fumes. While I adored living on the fringe of one of the most vibrant and eclectic cities in the world, the constant noise and crowded streets had become cumbersome.
As I peered up at the darkening sky, I heard nothing, no shouts from jubilant or angry tourists, no waves of music coming from every direction.
Just utter silence.
The realization was unnerving as hell. Why I reached for my weapon I didn’t know, but as my mother had always warned me, the quiet before the storm was always worrisome and always predicted danger.
I headed for the door, my Italian loafers crunching through the packed snow.
What the hell had I brought with me? Certainly not a warm enough jacket.
I was freezing my nuts off. Come to think of it, I didn’t own anything other than a hoodie and a single fleece jacket.
A puffy coat certainly wasn’t necessary.
Great. Maybe I would need to head to town and find that general store the vixen had steered me toward.
Goddamn, my balls ached. Why couldn’t I get her off my mind?
The house was much larger than I’d assumed, a chalet style with a deck running the length of the second floor, the A-frame something that you’d see in Denver.
I couldn’t even remember when the family had purchased the place.
I knew we owned several homes spread throughout the world, several having been used as safehouses in our distant past.
Our father had refused to allow us to sell any of them. After his death over a year before, we hadn’t even talked about consolidating our portfolio or selling off a single property.
Maybe out of respect.
Or maybe because as a family, we knew at some point our past would catch up with us.
That’s what I continued to think about in regard to almost losing my life.
Had I always been a brash businessman? No. It wasn’t like I’d gone out of my way to piss people off.
Did I handle whatever business was necessary with a ruthless hand? Yes. It was mandatory in our world. There were enemies in every corner of the world, inside every shadow waiting like bloodthirsty sharks to consume a little or a lot whenever possible.
Or whenever we made a mistake.
The fact there was no clues as to the identity of the assailant meant the attempt was a best kept secret. Tough to do in a town like New Orleans where crimes occurred every day, but when night fell, monsters ruled the city, clamoring to feed their extreme hunger.
At least according to my grandmother, a woman steeped in acts of black magic.
Her beliefs certainly made for lively conversation around the dinner table.
As soon as I stepped inside and turned off the security system, I was met with a feeling of being very much alone.
How strange since I hadn’t lived with anyone since my college days at Harvard. Pops had forced me to live on campus to get the entire benefit of a powerful university. A requirement for every child in the Prince household. No freeloading allowed.
But in truth, I knew his decision had been about keeping his children grounded, appreciative of what we’d been born into.
His plan had worked, maybe too well.
And why the hell was I thinking of my past at this moment? Did it have anything to do with feeling very much alone? Needing companionship?
Well, it wasn’t going to happen in Stowe-fucking-Vermont. I could only imagine the baggage I’d leave behind. No, thank you.
I flicked on a couple of lights on the wall, marveling in the immediate warmth trickling down from the open floor plan I could see from the foyer.
The security rearmed, I dropped my bag and headed into the massive room. I could only imagine the view with the huge cathedral ceiling and wall of glass. The floor plan was broken into two sides by use of a floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace that added warmth to the room.
Whoever had decorated the space had done a very nice job of creating pockets of warmth with three different sitting areas, all inviting with huge throw rugs and plush leather sofas.
Okay, so it was entirely different than my house in the French Quarter. Maybe I could get used to living in a place like this.
Chuckling, I explored the rest of the downstairs, making a pitstop in the kitchen. Ah, my brand of whiskey. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Noticing a note on the counter, I grimaced. Instructions.
Mr. Prince,
I hope you find everything you need as I tried to anticipate your preferences. You’ll find clean linen on the bed in the master, fresh towels and other toiletries. I’ve left my number in case you discover any maintenance needs. Don’t hesitate to call. I’d pretty handy with most things.
Bart
Well, Bart. I certainly hope I don’t need your services. But at least there was contact. I was curious how much anyone knew about our family as the house was owned by a shell company, as were all our other properties. You could never be too careful.
Or too rich.