Page 3 of The Billion Heirs Boxed Set

It isn’t all that rough. Low wind, clear visibility. A little bit of chop, just like the water below, but doable, if you’re not prone to motion sickness.

His seatbelt clinks. “You have two half brothers.”

My smile slips. I know about them. Both younger and from the women who took my mom’s place. I turn the yoke again, dropping the right wing once more. Shankle gasps.

“The three of us aren’t going to make a fort in the backyard and take blood oaths, Shankle. Get to the point.”

I tap my sunglasses up my nose and straighten the plane. There is no autopilot, so I keep my gaze on the tree-covered rolling hills of the Pacific Northwest on the horizon.

“You and your brothers are heirs to his estate.”

The man—our father—was rich. Obscenely so, and since I turned eighteen, I haven’t seen a dime of it. Before then, I didn’t get much. Enough for clothes and extra food. He moved on and so did my mom. She started the seaplane company from the ground—or in her case, the Puget Sound—up.

“Great. Mail the china and stamp collection to the company address. You didn’t need to come all the way to Seattle.” I don’t raise my voice. I don’t have to. I’m sure he can tell how much I hate my father through the headset loud and clear.

His laugh comes through just as clearly. “I assure you, Mr. Bridger, you’ll receive more than a stamp collection. That’s why I’ve been trying to reach you. Jonathan Bridger’s fortune is estimated at over three billion dollars. You, along with your half brothers, Miles and Chance, are the sole inheritors.”

The plane takes a nosedive. I’m not fucking with Shankle this time. I just can’t believe what I’m hearing. The engine noise changes and my seat rattles.

“I’m a…what? A fucking billionaire?” I ask, righting the plane.

We’re now a few hundred feet lower and Shankle’s stomach is probably in his throat. Mine is too, for a completely different reason.

Money like that means no more oyster runs to ensure Mom’s medicine is paid for this month. Mom can go to that specialist in Chile we read up on. Hell, she can buy Chile. No more creditors or business problems because she’s sick. It means a second… or even a third seaplane. A freaking fleet of seaplanes. The charter business she started thirty years ago won’t fold.

I go numb with sheer surprise of this information for only a moment. Piloting requires focus, and damn…this is good news.

I pull back on the yoke and aim for the stars. I can’t help a grin and a whoop of happiness. Dear old Dad can rot in hell while Mom gets well and flies again.

“I’ll give you my bank account information when we land.” I strum the yoke with my fingers, feeling fucking great for the first time in months. “You’re right, Shankle. You do have good news.”

Shankle is quiet, and I glance over my shoulder at him. He has his briefcase in his lap and a small stack of papers in his hands. “There is a catch.”

I glance out the front window again and adjust course slightly. I’ve flown the area enough to recognize the sea and land below. Which island is which. There’s no radar. No complex instrumentation.

“A catch,” I echo.

Of course there is.

“You must return to Bridger Ranch in Montana.”

Return? I’ve never been there. A few days away may impact flights. But if I have a billion dollars, what does it matter?

“I can swing a week off.”

“You’ll need a little more than a week.” Shankle clears his throat. “The will clearly stipulates that all three Bridger sons must live and work at Bridger Ranch for the duration of one year to receive a dime.”

“What the fuck?” I shout. “A year? I can’t live in Montana for a year. My mother is sick and on special experimental drugs. If I don’t get the money for a year, I can’t stop working. The company will go under, and Mom—”

“It was your father’s last wish.”

“That I live in bumfuck Montana for a year? Give up my life, my business, risk my mother’s health, all because some asshole is making me jump through hoops?”

As punishment, I dip the plane again, feel the pull against my harness.

Shankle whimpers.

A father who I never met and is dead—dead—is fucking with me and will continue to do so for an entire year. I have to go to Montana to get the money that will help my mother and save the company. But going will most likely make my mother’s symptoms worse and will definitely hurt the business since I won’t be able to fly.