Amelia Autin - Rescued By The Billionaire Ceo

“Alana!” Mei-li reached her first and embraced her. “I’m so glad you’re all right.”

Then Dirk was there. He didn’t say anything, just enveloped her in a bear hug that conveyed how worried he’d been, too, and how thankful he was she’d been rescued safe and sound. She knew it had to have brought back nightmares for him—his twin daughters had been kidnapped and held for ransom just over a year ago. That story, and the dramatic rescue, had been splashed across the front pages of newspapers, tabloids and gossip magazines, as well as the internet.

“I’m so sorry,” she breathed. “I’m so sorry you had to go through this again. But I wasn’t careless. Honest. Those men came out of nowhere with hundreds of people around, and—”

Dirk held her away from him at arm’s length, a frown marring his handsome features. “Don’t apologize. This wasn’t your fault. I should have warned you. And I should have made sure you knew about the—”

Mei-li put her hand on her husband’s arm, cutting off the flow of words. “Dirk,” she murmured. Just his name, but there appeared to be some sort of unspoken communication between them because his self-recriminations ceased. Then Mei-li smiled her gentle smile. “You’re safe. That’s all that matters. RMM came through for us...again.”

“RMM?” Alana couldn’t help but ask. Then she realized she’d never thanked the men who’d brought her here. She hadn’t thanked her rescuer, either, but at least she could ask these men to convey her heartfelt gratitude to him. She turned, but the van was already pulling away. “Wait!”

She took two steps forward as if she was going to chase after it, but Mei-li was suddenly there, stopping her. “They don’t look for thanks,” she explained softly.

“What do you mean?”

“RMM. They do what they have to do to rescue the innocent, even if it means breaking the law. But they don’t look for thanks. That’s not why they do it.”

“I don’t understand.”

Dirk came up on her other side. “RMM stands for Right Makes Might. It’s from a quotation by Abraham Lincoln.” His smile held admiration and something more. Deep gratitude, the kind Alana was feeling right now. “It’s not common knowledge, but they were instrumental in rescuing my daughters when they were kidnapped.”

Chapter 2

Jason walked through the door of his penthouse condo three hours later. He and his men had quickly scoured the tiny apartment where Alana had been held, noting everything and taking copious pictures, but touching nothing that would contaminate the crime scene. Then they’d melted into the darkness when the police sirens could be heard in the distance.

He dropped his keys and iPhone in a large Ming bowl on the credenza by the front door, then headed for the bathroom, stripping off his clothes as he went. He was naked by the time he arrived, and he bundled his clothes into the laundry hamper. Then he grabbed the jar of cold cream from the bathroom counter and proceeded to smear some across the camouflaging face paint. He wiped most of the paint off with a handful of tissues, then stepped into the shower and let soap, hot water and vigorous scrubbing do the rest.

Clean, he pulled on boxer shorts and padded into the kitchen, where he snagged a cold bottle of water from the refrigerator and downed half of it in two gulps. Then he headed for his office, detouring on the way to pick up his smartphone in the vestibule. He took a moment to run one hand over the foot-high statue of Bruce Lee also on the credenza, a replica of the life-size one on the Avenue of Stars in Tsim Sha Tsui.

The statue had cost him an arm and a leg, but like the gold medallion he wore it was a constant reminder, and worth every penny. Bruce Lee was revered in Hong Kong—and in much of the rest of the world, for that matter—both as a proponent of martial arts and as a man whose films always depicted him standing up for what was right, not what was expedient. A man who protected the innocent. Bruce had died before Jason was born, but his legacy would live forever. A legacy Jason tried in his own way to emulate.

He settled into his leather and ebony office chair, flicked on his laptop, then keyed in the complicated encryption password. Tonight was going to be one of those nights...as usual. Sleep, which his adrenaline-sapped body craved, would be elusive. Rescues always wired him to the point where going to bed was useless, so he wouldn’t bother. Besides, he still had work to do.

While he waited patiently for the laptop to power up, he leaned back in the chair with a creak of leather, rehashing tonight’s rescue in his mind.

So many things could have gone wrong. Not the least of which was, he and his men could have picked the wrong apartment. GPS was good, but it wasn’t perfect. The coordinates they had in their possession had indicated that building and a most likely floor, but not which apartment. That had required a little old-fashioned deductive reasoning...and prayer. If they’d guessed wrong, screams from some surprised apartment dweller when Jason broke in would probably have alerted the triads that something was up, possibly even that a rescue was being attempted. And what that would have meant for Alana Richardson didn’t bear thinking about.

Alana Richardson. A tiny slip of a thing, really. Not even as tall as his sister, Mei-li, who wasn’t all that tall, either. But that wasn’t really relevant. No, what really mattered was how she’d handled herself during the rescue. Despite being bound, gagged and blindfolded, she’d been instantly alert when he’d awakened her. And she hadn’t questioned his orders. Hadn’t insisted on any kind of explanation. She’d just done what he’d told her to do...instantaneously.

He laughed softly. It wasn’t blind obedience he’d been hoping for; it was a woman smart enough to instantly grasp that explanations could wait for a more opportune time. Who could make split-second decisions the way he did, and follow through on them. And Alana Richardson fit that description the way she’d fit into his arms. Perfectly.

He sat up abruptly, muttering, “Hold on a minute.” Where the hell had that thought come from?

You shouldn’t even be thinking about how good she felt in your arms, he chastised himself. And you damn well shouldn’t have been aroused when she wrapped her legs around you and held on tight.

It did absolutely no good telling himself what he should have done...because it was too late for that. He had been aroused. Painfully aroused. And now that his mind had gone down that path, it was impossible not to remember slight breasts pressed firmly up against his chest. Impossible not to remember thighs clinging to his hips with unexpected strength. Impossible not to imagine those same thighs holding on tight as he rode her soft and slow and—

His smartphone dinged for an incoming text, an interruption he both blessed and cursed. He swiped a finger over the touchpad and saw it was from his sister.

Thnx, he read. Knew I could count on you. Call me?

He frowned. It was way past midnight, and his sister should be sleeping. But she knows you well enough, he reminded himself. She knows you’re not sleeping.

He pressed speed dial, and when the phone was answered, surprised himself when the first words out of his mouth were, “How is she?”

“Recovering,” Mei-li said. “The police were here. Dirk insisted we file a police report immediately, even though Alana had already been through a lot for one day. And it’s a good thing we did report it, because someone tipped off the police there was an abduction and rescue.” The emphasis on someone conveyed his sister knew exactly who that was, even though she wasn’t saying. “But the police are gone now. Finally. They took scrapings from beneath Alana’s fingernails for DNA analysis—apparently she scratched one of the men, and it looks as if she drew blood.”