The Billionaire Next Door (Billionaire Bad Boys #2)(67)

Tag and Reese rushed to him, but before they could each grab an arm, Eli unclenched a hand and held it open, signaling them to stop. He growled one word. “Don’t.”

Tag froze. Reese locked his fists at his sides. The doctor warned them about this—phantom pains. Intense, spearing, sometimes hot, electric shots of pain in the limb that was missing.

Watching Eli’s expression shatter in agony was the hardest thing Tag ever had to witness.

“Stubborn ass,” Tag muttered when Eli wobbled like he might pass out.

Tag grabbed one crutch and wrapped an arm around his brother’s back, physically moving Eli to a chair and forcing him to sit. Tag laid the crutches within reaching distance, but otherwise let him be. A sheen of sweat covered Eli’s forehead as his chest heaved. At least he was breathing through the pain now.

“Fuck me,” he panted, lifting one shaky hand to wipe his brow. “I need a beer.”

“You can’t drink beer with your medication,” Reese said.

Eli glared at him.

“I can get you a pain pill,” Tag said, feeling utterly helpless. Useless.

“No, I’m good.” Eli didn’t look good, though. He was pale and looked like he’d taken a beating.

“I forgot to eat,” Reese said. Out of the blue.

Tag turned to face him and Reese held his gaze. “Takeout? Chow Main’s not far from here.”

“Chow Main sounds great,” Tag said, understanding this was Reese’s excuse to stay. “Eli?”

“You two need to go home so I can sleep.”

But they wouldn’t. Not right away. Certainly not on the heels of Eli’s attack.

“After dinner,” Reese said, pulling his phone from his suit pocket. “I’ll call Merina and see if she wants to stop by. She’s probably starving.”

“I’ll order.” Tag pulled his own phone out and hit the button for the Chinese restaurant that had a permanent place in his address book. “Eli, beef or chicken?”

“I don’t eat meat.”

“Hold on a second, Merina,” Reese said into the phone. “What did you just say?” he asked Eli.

“Fish. But not meat.”

The man who’d once considered steak the end-all-be-all didn’t eat meat now? Tag ingested this information but didn’t argue. “Shrimp okay?”

“Or tofu. Either one.” Eli rested his head on the chair and closed his eyes. Tag exchanged looks with Reese, who shook his head, shell-shocked.

Tofu? Who was this guy?

“Hey, yes, I have a takeout order,” Tag said into the phone. Reese resumed his call, moving to the far side of the room to talk to Merina. Tag completed the order, hung up, and told Eli, “Twenty minutes. I’ll get it.”

“Aren’t you going to call your girlfriend?” Eli asked, eyes still closed, his mouth curving into a smile.

“You’re lucky we like you,” Tag said, pulling his keys from his coat and moving for the freight elevator. The next sound that echoed the room floored him and made him smile in spite of himself.

Because Eli laughed.

*



Rachel wrung her hands in her lap as Tag pulled up in front of a tidy Tudor home in a cute neighborhood outside Chicago. This was where his best friend, Lucas, lived? The super-attractive, smart-mouthed music producer had a charming little house with flowerboxes? She’d expected a sleek high-rise apartment building. This home was a monument proving players could be tamed.

“Come up with me. I want you to meet the kids,” Tag said.

The kids.

“Okay.”

She climbed out of the car, careful of her little black dress with the super-short skirt. She’d felt ambitious on her shopping trip earlier this week, and given the temperature, hadn’t chosen wisely. The skin exposed between her knee-high boots and hemline was freezing. She definitely wasn’t in Hawaii anymore.

“Same rules apply as with my family. Don’t mind the bug-eyed looks of shock,” Tag said as they scaled the concrete steps leading to a covered front porch.

“Your friends haven’t met a girl you’re seeing in a while either?” Her nerves were doing the cha-cha.

“Only when you met Luc at the Andromeda that night. But no, not in a long while. Lucas was my wingman for a lot of years, and Gena is the one who spun him.”

“Who what him?”

A sly smirk, then, “Nothing.”

Tag pressed a button and a bell rang. The door popped open and the man Rachel remembered stood at the threshold, a toddler on his hip. Oddly enough, the sight of him with a little girl attached to his side suited him.

Tamed player, indeed.

“Hey, guys, come on in.” As she stepped inside, she heard Lucas say to Tag, “Doorbell, man, really?”

“I’m trying to make a good impression,” Tag murmured.

Rachel smiled to herself, liking how Tag was still trying to impress her.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe it.” A petite, tattooed, black-haired woman swung around the corner. She stopped in front of Rachel and propped her hands on her hips. “She’s gorgeous, which is not a surprise.”

“Meet my wife, Gena,” Lucas said as the smaller woman walked a circle around Rachel like she was checking out a prize pony.