Page 11 of The Renegade Billionaire

“If you saw it in person, you’d understand why, but I need to blend in for a while and figure out why the hell Ace wanted me here. Do you think my family will be able to trace the DDD account?”

“They would break every law if it meant they could keep the money train going, but no, the DDD isn’t something they’d ever think of, and we’re the only ones with access—well, and apparently Ace. Are you really going to purchase a used car?”

Glancing at the options, I frown. “No, I’m going to purchase a truck.”

More laughter has my fingers itching to hang up on him.

“Greyson,” I grumble.

“Fine, fine. No, I promise you they can’t trace it. But you should know, the gossip mill is salivating. Your family found out we’ve already removed Alistair from the board of MontgomeryMedia, and they’re threatening to plaster your face all over the internet if you don’t fix it.” Alistair is a fucking snake. “Oh, and he put out a story this morning calling you the renegade billionaire. All the other gossip sites picked it up in minutes. He has a source on the inside because our guys never would have approved that.”

Fuck me. I just had to go and call myself a renegade to Madison this morning.

It’s unusual for someone in my position to have near-complete anonymity—it’s one of the few things I can actually thank my parents for, even if they did it for self-serving reasons.

They’ve never missed an opportunity to let me know I wasn’t wanted, and when they learn that Grey and I don’t intend on supplementing their trust funds beyond what Ace put in his will, they’ll do whatever’s necessary to take me down.

Running my knuckles over my heart, I close my eyes and count to ten. Just long enough to hear a bell chime and a door slam shut.

“I hate to say it, but Happiness might be the perfect place for you to lay low for a while.” Grey chuckles. He’s having way too much fun with this.

“We’ll see. I have to go buy a—a something. Maisie’s Hideaway Inn isn’t so bad, but I don’t need to draw unnecessary attention to myself either.”

Madison standing in the kitchen with a foot in the sink flickers to life in my mind, and I couldn’t stop my smile if I tried.

“Ace truly was a mastermind,” Grey says, dragging my attention away from the inappropriate thoughts. “Your father will never look for you at a run-down inn. Do you know he already tried to bill a ten-thousand-dollar-a-month rental to the company? When that didn’t work, he hired a helicopter to take him from El Paso every day, but I don’t know where that money came from yet.”

I grunt in response just as a man far too young to be as bald as he is saunters up with his thumbs hooked into the loops of his dirty-kneed jeans.

Ending the call, I hold out a hand that he stares at with barely contained disgust. Well, that’s a new one for me. I drop my hand.

“Name’s Harry Terdsley, how can I help you today? Sir.” The “sir” drips with condescension.

Okay, he’s not a fan. Got it.

“Brax R—Mitchell.” I’d better get used to using my middle name really quickly. “Braxton Mitchell. I’d like to purchase a… Honestly—” I look past him to the heaps of metal that surround us. “What’s the most reliable vehicle you have on the lot?”

This man snorts in my face. “We sell used cars, Mr. Mitchell. Walk around and take your pick. How do you plan to pay? We don’t finance out-of-towners.”

“That’s fine. I’ll pay for it outright if we can get it done today.”

He makes a show of looking at his watchless wrist and whistles.

“Well, ya better choose quick then. We close for lunch soon.” Harry Terdsley spins on his heel and leans against the building, watching as I scan the small lot.

Some of the trucks are rusted, and some look to be in good condition, but if my instincts on Harry are correct, I’ll be spending a lot of time at an auto repair shop either way. Considering I know next to nothing about cars, I’m guessing I’m about to get screwed, but this is my only option for now.

My phone dings with an incoming text.

Grey: I looked up the inn. It’s owned by M. Ryan and Madison Ryan. It’s pretty run-down.

Me: It’s perfect.

Me: And it has stellar reviews.

Grey: All from locals. But whatever, maybe that’s what you’re supposed to fix. Regardless, it’s truly the last place they’ll look for you.

That’s true. I can hear my mother’s voice now. “A Montgomery in a small-town inn in the middle of nowhere? How dare you?”