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Prologue
Cash Trapper blinkedhis eyes to clear his vision and then blinked again. What alternate reality had he entered?
Mercedes Belle, the infamous billionaire heiress, was standing in front of him in his Healthy Life inner-city gym for vets Chicago office. How she dared walk from her limousine—or whatever she’d been driven here in—on the garbage-strewn sidewalk lined with loitering men and through the stripped-down gym to his office was beyond him. The members of his gym were good men, almost all retired military with their own honor code, but she had no way of knowing that. Where was her security detail?
Her half-brother, Lieutenant Grayson Travier, had been one of his men. A great man. A hero. Grayson had been killed in Afghanistan. Rushed into a building before anyone else and never saw the bomb that claimed his life. His rash action had saved the rest of their unit.
Nobody had known he was the son of Franz Belle, billionaire entrepreneur, until his death. Grayson was the secret baby Franz hadn’t known about or claimed until Grayson was eighteen and his mom finally told him who his real father was. Grayson hadwanted to make his own path in the world, without the Belle money or name. He had, and Franz Belle had allowed that and supported him quietly. Cash had attended the funeral and received gratitude and unnecessary praise from Mr. Belle and Mercedes while he fumbled with his condolences. That had been over two years ago. Why had Mercedes come to him now?
Touted as the most beautiful and wealthy woman of the year, Mercedes was currently wearing a slinky blue dress that molded to her fake curves and protruding hip bones. She hadn’t been this skinny and voluptuous two years ago. Now she reminded him of Angelina Jolie, so brittle he couldn’t help but think she must be ill. Sickly-looking women weren’t Cash’s type. It hit a little too close to home. He also preferred redheads. Not that his type mattered, as the dating game was irrevocably finished for him.
“Are you interested?” she asked, her teal-blue eyes all lit up and sparkling at him.
“Interested?” He shook his head and backed up a step. Her expensive floral perfume was making his head pound. He craned his neck to see past her. Hopefully she had well-trained guards waiting just outside his sparse office. He sensed at least one. Why hadn’t the man made his presence known and demanded Cash set his weapons on the desk? At the very least, whoever was waiting outside his door should’ve given Cash a threatening look, growled in warning, or postured as if he were tough enough to take Cash down. Mercedes Belle needed a higher level of security presence than anyone but the King of Augustine or the President of the United States.
“Are you interested in my proposal?” she replied eagerly, a welcoming smile on her too-red lips.
Cash had no issue with Mercedes Belle. He had the utmost respect for her brother, and for her and her dad for the ultimate sacrifice a military family could make as well as showing graceand love through that hard time. From the little he’d seen on television, Mercedes appeared to be a charitable and happy icon, better than most celebrity idols who had no morals and would rather shoot daggers than help someone.
He did have an issue with her lack of security—did the woman not value her own life and safety?—and her assuming he’d be interested in her ‘proposal.’ For her brother’s sake alone, he considered offering his friend Aiden Porter’s private security services. Would Mercedes use his connection to Grayson to guilt him into her reality television idea?
“Where’s your security?” he asked, his voice was far too demanding. Even Cash had felt uneasy lately in the area, as if he was being watched.
“Shawn’s right outside. No, Shawn …” She raised her voice slightly. “Do not come in here.” She focused back on Cash. “And I have two more men waiting at the door to your gym. You don’t need to be all protective and worried about me.”
He appreciated she had security and a little spice to add to all the sugar she’d been pouring on. All he’d felt at Grayson’s funeral was sweetness from her and her dad. It had been rough to swallow and so impressive in the midst of their palpable grief.
“Okay,” he said. “For Grayson’s sake …”
“For Grayson’s sake, I am safe and smart.” She swallowed, and her teal-blue eyes brightened. “And for Grayson’s sake, I am putting this show together.”
Ah, crap. He’d started it. Now he could only nod in response.
“The show …” She lit up, clapping her hands together and showing off so many large and glittery diamond rings he wondered if even three security guys could keep her from being robbed in south Chicago.
“A reality television show, pairing one of my friends …” He gestured his chin to the raw and smelly atmosphere of one of his five gyms. He had plans for twenty more, but funding wasanother subject—a stress that kept him up more nights than the recurring visions of his own body wasting away to nothing. “With a young lady trying to raise money for her charity?” He had at least registered that much out of her speech.
“Yes!” She clapped her hands happily together again.
Cash looked past the jewelry and was even more leery. Her nails were long, sharp-looking, and as red as her lips. Maybe with daggers like that, she didn’t feel she needed more than three bodyguards and could force ‘Shawn’ to wait outside his office?
Cash had no ill-intent toward her, and she knew the kind of man he was from Grayson’s experiences that her brother had shared with her, but the fact remained he could have her incapacitated in seconds and she’d never see it coming. Was it his responsibility to explain she should never go unaccompanied into a relatively unknown man’s office? Even if she thought she knew that man and his integrity? That she should never walk through a south-side Chicago area without at minimum four experienced, burly, and heavily armed security guards surrounding her and to leave the jewelry home next time?
“Each of the ladies has the chance to win a million dollars for her charity, and each of the vets will be paid a million dollars regardless of whether the woman wins her money,” Mercedes explained again. He’d half-listened the first time, mouth open in shock, jaw slack, not truly believing Mercedes Belle was actually across from his desk and speaking to him.
The men being assured the money if they participated, and the ladies taking a risk for it, didn’t seem fair. But a million dollars would change the lives of the men who’d come to mind.
Cash’s head spun as he folded his arms across his chest and probably looked like the statue of a military hero already dead and immortalized. He was as built as anybody, but soon he’d be dust, and who would even remember him besides some of hismen? His mom was already waiting for him up in heaven and his dad had taken off days before Cash’s entry into the world.
He pushed that away and focused. Who he should give the opportunity to—Eli dealing with losing his leg and his fiancée, Quaid whose PTSD was so bad nobody could so much as touch his arm without him knocking them to the floor, the gentle giant Bennett who’d been tortured and imprisoned in Syria but somehow always had a smile on his face …
The problem was, would any of them accept it as an opportunity or would they feel exactly as he did and have no desire to be on some television show? These men were tough, elite, exceptionally trained soldiers who’d been crushed in some way. Their pride was all they had to cling to. Risking their brokenness being revealed on a television show, which he assumed would increase the shows’ ratings and give Mercedes and the producers immense success, was not a gamble they would likely volunteer for.
“And you, my charitable and incredible hero …” Mercedes continued, even though he hadn’t responded to her previous statement.
Cash flinched. He wasn’t a hero. Not anymore. He’d lost her brother, and other men who had been true heroes, and then he’d been forced to retire. He was only trying to make a difference and accomplish what he could during his last days on earth. At least AOH1996, the new cancer ‘miracle’ drug, didn’t make him sick or weak and would supposedly help the rapidly-approaching chemotherapy treatments be more effective. Maybe he’d make it past the six to eighteen months the doctors had given him. They cautioned him not to plan on it and that the ‘generous’ amount of time would only be possible with the AOH1996 and chemotherapy.
“Youwill get a huge bonus simply for agreeing to be my first hero for the opening show and hand-picking and convincing theideal tough and wounded heroes to take part in the six other shows. Grayson would’ve loved this.” She paused for effect, her eyes all lit up. She didn’t look as sickly right now. “I’m going to gift you five million dollars to develop your gyms throughout inner cities.”
