Cutthroat: Sutton Capital Series, Book Eight Read online

  Cutthroat

  Sutton Capital Series, Book Eight

  Lori Ryan

  Contents

  The Sutton Capital Series

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Epilogue

  Also by Lori Ryan

  Note

  About the Author

  Copyright 2016, Lori Ryan.

  All rights reserved.

  * * *

  This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher.

  The Sutton Capital Series

  Legal Ease

  Penalty Clause

  The Baker’s Bodyguard (A Sutton Capital Series Novella)

  Negotiation Tactics

  The Billionaire’s Suite Dreams

  The Baker, the Bodyguard, and the Wedding Bell Blues (A Sutton Capital Series Novella)

  Her SEALed Fate

  The Sutton Capital Series Boxed Set (Books One Through Four)

  The Sutton Capital Series Boxed Set (Books Five Through Seven)

  Cutthroat

  Cut and Run (November 2016)

  Cut to the Chase (January 2017)

  If you love this book and want to try my Heroes of Evers, TX Series free, send me your email and I’ll send you a copy of Honor and Protect, an Evers, TX short story and put you on my reader list to get free content and fun stories! Click here!

  Acknowledgments

  As always, I am indebted to several friends and experts who took the time to answer my questions and share their expertise. The generosity of those I’ve reached out to always amazes me. I couldn’t write these books without the help of a lot of people!

  Any errors or changes due to creative license are my own.

  I’d like to thank Meredith Elkins, D. P. Lyle, Jon and Shari Bartholomew, and Garry Rodgers for your expertise. The way you take time out of your day to help me is humbling.

  Redmond Ramos, thank you for answering all of my questions and sharing your experiences, but also for being such an inspiration!

  Scott Silverii, I can’t thank you enough for answering my endless texts and emails. Maybe someday, I’ll run out of questions. But probably not.

  Thank you Karen Henderson, Zebbie Starnes, and Sara Smith for your beta reading and proofing assistance. You guys just rock!

  Thank you to Jessie Winter for editing and meeting my timeline again.

  Melanie, you have no idea how happy I am to have found you! Brainstorming with you makes all the difference. I’m sorry I made you read this one so many times.

  Ehlane and Cathy, I just love you guys.

  All right, now I’m getting all teary-eyed. This has to stop. Go read the book, and know it was written by a village!

  To those who don’t always have a voice in this world.

  Chapter 1

  Eggs frying in butter was probably his favorite smell in the world.

  Jaxon Ray Cutter flipped the eggs in the frying pan, the scent of butter filling the kitchen. The sound of gruff laughter behind him joined the pop and sizzle coming from the pan.

  “Still makes me laugh every time I see it.” Leo Kent crossed the small space of the studio apartment and dropped into a chair.

  Jax shot him a grin over his shoulder. He knew what his friend was referring to. It was what had started the unlikely friendship in the first place. A tattoo he’d gotten soon after losing part of his leg below the knee.

  The black tattoo on his right calf was designed to look like somebody had written on his leg in magic marker. The word POSER hovered over an arrow that pointed to the prosthesis on his left leg. The tattoo was a prime example of Jax’s wry sense of humor.

  It wasn’t the only tattoo to grace his skin. He had tribal work from the top of his shoulder down most of one arm, and a few other pieces on his back. He’d celebrated his freedom when leaving the Navy with a few pieces that required multiple hours in the chair. Although nowadays sailors could have more tattoos under looser restrictions, when he’d been in, his tattoos would have landed him in hot water.

  “Always happy to be your entertainment,” Jax said, turning back to the stove. It wasn’t uncommon for Jax to stop by Leo’s apartment after his morning run for breakfast. He wasn’t sure if the older man would eat if Jax didn’t swing by to be sure.

  Their meeting had been a chance one, but they’d hit it off right away. When Jax had taken a break from his run two years back, Leo had spotted the tattoo and laughed so hard he almost choked. The Gulf War vet had his own prosthetic leg but didn't have the fancy tattoo to go with it.

  Leo’s amputation was above-the-knee, unlike Jax’s below-the-knee. From what he knew, Jax should be grateful for that. There was a lot more pain and discomfort involved with wearing a prosthesis on an above-the-knee residual limb, not to mention the loss of a natural knee.

  Jax slid fried eggs and buttered toast onto a plate and dropped the plate onto the table in front of Leo. He sat opposite and dug into his own meal before realizing Leo wasn’t eating.

  “Something wrong with your food?”

  "I, uh, wanted to give you this." What looked to be six or eight twenty dollar bills, folded in half, landed on the table. Leo turned to eat like it was nothing for him to have that amount of money.

  Jax knew full well it was a lot more than nothing to the man who'd been homeless only six months ago. If Leo hadn’t let Jax help him pay the security deposit and a little of the rent, he’d still be living on the streets.

  “What the hell is that?” Jax stared at the money. He'd known it would be hard to get Leo to take money from him, but he figured once he got him into the apartment, the man wouldn't worry so much about it. He’d never in a million years intended for Leo to pay him back.

  “A man pays his debts.” Leo didn't look up as he spoke. Just kept shoveling eggs in his mouth.

  “You don't have a debt. And even if you did, it's not one I would ever ask you to pay.”

  "I'm just saying a man pays his debts that's all. I fully intend to pay you back everything you've given me."

  "Not necessary,” Jax said. He was starting to get pissed. “Use the money for something you need. Clothes, medical care—there has to be something.”

  “Nah, I got what I need. I get medical care from the clinic and what the hell do I need with more clothes? More to wash, that’s all that does. What I do need is to make sure my friend is paid back.”

  “Where'd you get it?” Shit. He hadn’t meant for that to come out. He had no business—no right—to question wh
ere Leo got anything.

  The older man pretended the question wasn’t out of line. “Turns out, when you got a place to sleep and shower, a little food in your belly, it's a lot easier to get work. I've just been picking up day work, that's all.” A shrug accompanied the words. Jax could see Leo was leaving something out of that story, but he wasn’t going to push it.

  There was no way he’d win this fight. He picked up the money, split the pile in half and pushed one half back toward his friend. They’d have to compromise.

  “You go to that happy hour last night?” Leo asked as he scowled at the money.

  Now it was Jax’s turn to grunt his response. He did so at the same time he cursed himself for ever mentioning the stupid Thursday after-work tradition at Sutton Capital. He liked the people he worked with, but he just wasn’t ready for hanging out in a bar where he had to talk to strangers. He’d tried. It had sucked.

  “You didn’t, did you?”

  Jax ignored the question, filling his mouth with enough toast that he couldn’t speak around it. He wasn’t going to talk about this. If anyone should accept the fact that he wasn’t cut out to hang out with civilians, it should be Leo.

  “You should make more of an effort.”

  Apparently not. “Why is that?”

  “So you don’t end up like my sorry ass, dick head.” Leo never bothered to pretty up his language for Jax. “You want to end up lucky as hell to have one friend in this jackoff world? Keep it up.”

  “Dick head? Really?”

  Leo just laughed and went back to his food, but Jax knew he would continue to pester him about it. He’d made the effort, though, just like he’d said. He tried going out for drinks with everyone after work. The only problem was, he ended up angry and annoyed more often than not. If he had to listen to one more person bitch about waiting three hours for the cable guy to come hook up their effing television, or the fact that they couldn’t find the right color shoes to match an outfit (this from a guy, no less!), he’d lose his shit.

  His friends at work weren’t the problem. In fact, he liked the team he worked with a lot. Many of them were former military, too. Others had married former military. It was the other people they’d meet when they went out that screwed with shit. People who hadn’t served just didn’t get it. Didn’t get how lucky they were or how freaking ungrateful they can sound at times. Didn’t have the first clue what it meant to really hurt, to really need. To bleed with body, heart, and soul all at once.

  Conversation stopped while they finished up their breakfast, each sipping from a cup of black coffee brewed thicker than mud. The silence wasn't a heavy or uneasy one. It just was. It was what they were used to and one of the reasons they were friends. No need for extra conversation or talk.

  Leo stood and picked up the empty plates, taking them to the sink. Other people might have thought the man was a project to Jax. He was anything but that. Jax needed Leo as much as Leo needed him. When Jax separated from the Navy, he discovered he had a hard time finding people he was comfortable with. There were a few other veterans at work he got along with, but that was it. For the most part, he and civilians just didn’t mix. Until Leo, he’d been going to work and going home.

  He shoved his chair back and went to the other side of the small room, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Leo was still busy at the sink. He stuck the forty or so bucks he'd taken out of the pile of cash on the table into the inside pocket of the fishing vest Leo wore most days. No way in hell he was taking money from the man.

  “I have to get to work soon. You need anything before I head out?” Jax crossed back to the kitchen, glancing up to see Leo hunched over the counter, the color draining from his face. “Hey, you okay?”

  “Shit.” He took Leo by the shoulders and steadied him as he lowered him back into the kitchen chair.

  It'd been a couple of years since Jax had left his detail as a Navy Corpsman to the Marines—essentially a field medic—but his medical training still took over within an instant. He stopped the useless cursing as he checked Leo’s pulse.

  His friend tried to bat his hand away, grumbling that he was fine, but needed to rest.

  “You’re hardly fine. You look gray.”

  “Forgot to put my makeup on today.” Leo pursed his lips and made kissing noises as he crossed his eyes at Jax. His color was coming back, but Jax still stayed close as he checked him over.

  “Funny. I don’t know why you haven’t had a career in comedy all these years.”

  “You about done, Mom?” asked Leo. “I think I’ll lie down and rest now, if you’re done playing that Florence whatever-her-name is chick.”

  Jax eyed him once more, before shoving back on his heels. “Yeah, I’m done.”

  Jax busied himself with cleaning up the kitchen counter and putting the last evidence of the breakfast making away as Leo laid on his bed. The older man crossed his arms behind his head and closed his eyes before speaking again.

  “Hey, when you take off, toss that letter in the mail for me, will you? On the counter there?”

  Jax looked around and spotted the small envelope. “Sure. I’ll swing by tomorrow and see if you’re feeling better. Call if you need me, though, huh?”

  Leo grunted a response and raised his hand. That was all the goodbye Jax was going to get. He glanced at the envelope again, reaching for his car keys. No return address. As he grabbed a pen and scribbled in Leo’s name and address in the upper left corner of the envelope, he wondered briefly who Michaela Kent was. Possibilities ran through his head.

  A loud snore came from the bed. Jax shook his head and left, locking the door behind him. Whoever she was, he wouldn’t be getting that story out of Leo today.

  * * *

  Mia Kent frowned at the envelope topping the stack of mail on her desk. Its face was down, but she knew it would be addressed to Michaela Kent. And that simple fact alone told her who it was from. There wasn’t a soul on the planet who called her that, except her father. In fact, the name didn’t even appear on her birth certificate. Her mother had changed it when she was only seven years old.

  Leaning into her desk drawer, she tugged out one of the plain white envelopes she kept in a neat stack at the back. This had become a routine. The money arrived from her father every week. No note or anything. Just a stack of cash. Why he thought it was safe to send cash through the mail, she would never know. Nor did she care. She simply opened the envelope, moved the cash into an unmarked envelope, and would drop it into the church donation box on her way home.

  “Who sends things unsolicited to someone at their place of business, anyway?” She had a habit of talking to herself, and that kicked into high gear when she received these letters. “Completely unprofessional,” she muttered.

  Not that it mattered. She was the Office Manager at the medium sized law firm of Schuler and Koskoff. As long as she kept the office running smoothly—which she did—her bosses didn’t care if she received personal calls or mail. It was the principle of it that bothered her, though.

  As Mia tossed the envelope in the trash, her hand froze. A return address. Today’s envelope contained a return address. And there in black and white, her father’s name. Leo Kent.

  “New Haven,” she said aloud to the empty office, an odd tingling sensation running over her arms “Has he actually been in New Haven all this time?”

  Not that she cared. She didn’t. She was simply shocked to discover how close he’d been to her own home in Hartford, just over an hour north.

  Close enough that he could have come to see her.

  Could have shown up at her soccer games or high school graduation, at the very least. Or her college graduation when she’d earned that coveted BA from Trinity. The one she and her mom had worked so hard to fund?

  Anger flashed in her gut and Mia shredded the envelope. Tossing the pieces in the trash. It didn’t take long for her to reach back in and pull the pieces out. She smoothed the crinkled paper and taped the return address back t
ogether.

  “Better.” Now she could handle this problem head on, just like she always did when faced with something that wasn’t working in her life. She’d go to New Haven this weekend and put an end to the letters. She’d tell Leo Kent she didn’t need his money, or him.

  Nick Traber poked his head in her office. “You about ready?”

  Mia nodded, shoving the envelope back in her desk drawer and straightening her skirt. She’d been dating Nick for six months. There was a steadiness to him she found comforting and his blue eyes were kind. She also liked that he was taller than her own five feet eight inches.

  When she’d been in college, Mia had dated a guy who began talking about a future with her almost immediately. He felt things so strongly, he began to scare her pretty early on in their relationship. Gary Schake had very quickly shown her what it was like to be with someone who cared too much. Who felt things too hard. And when she’d tried to break things off, it had gotten ugly and more than a little scary for a while.

  Things with Nick weren’t like that. When she’d first seen him, her immediate thought was that he was nice looking. Brown hair, gentle brown eyes. A dimple when he smiled. He was a good looking man, but not so good looking that he’d be arrogant about it. She liked that.

  Their feelings for each other had built slowly, and she liked that. They didn’t have to discuss where to eat. They’d walk down to the diner on the corner while he told her about his caseload. It was what they did every time they met for lunch.

  Nick was an independent lawyer who leased office space in the same building as her firm. He primarily handled trusts and estates, with some occasional real estate law thrown in.

  When they got to the diner, he would order a BLT on wheat toast, hold the mayo. He’d drink unsweetened iced tea. Two of them. Mia smiled as he started telling her about something he’d done with a trust he thought would save the client money in the long run. Something about how he set it up.