Mobbed by Him (An Alpha Billionaire Romance) Read online

  Mobbed By Him

  BOOK 1

  By Alycia Taylor

  Copyright 2015. All rights reserved.

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  Chapter One

  Six Months Ago...

  Cadence

  Looking around the room I barely heard a thing. It was as if I was stuck in a fog; all my senses were dimmed. I felt numb. I knew that I should feel something but I just didn't. People were around me, touching me, trying to hug me, when all I wanted to do was claw them away from me. I didn't want to be touched, I didn't want to be near them. I had heard the words 'I'm sorry' about a million times and it had started to fall flat about three days ago. Why did people feel the need to say sorry? What did it even mean anyways? It was just something to say when you had no idea what to say. It was actually a stupid thing for people to say and every time I heard it I wanted to scream. They had no idea how I felt, and by saying sorry it felt more like a slap in the face. Everyone that loved me and my parents were there and yet I wanted them all to leave as soon as possible. I wanted to be left alone. No more hugs, no more apologies. I just wanted it all to end.

  My parents were dead. Not just dead, they were murdered. Sometimes I think learning of someone's death would be easier to deal with if it were an accident. Like a car wreck or something. Accidents happened. But my parents were murdered; they weren't supposed to die. It wasn't their time to go, they had just been stolen from me. People said sorry as if it would somehow take all the pain away, make me less sad, but it just made things worse. Nothing could take the pain away, nothing ever would. Having people around me at that moment made me increasingly uncomfortable. I hadn't eaten in days and every time I tried to, it felt like I would vomit it all up. I had been prescribed Valium but I had yet to take any. There was still so much to deal with, maybe I would take the opportunity to numb out later.

  Standing there at the funeral amongst so many people, it was obvious that my parents were loved a great deal. They had many friends and family that were just as devastated by their death as I was. I wished that I could feel something, anything, but I was completely numb. All I could think about was the fear my mother must have felt. Both of them actually, but I always saw my father as a strong man and he would have fought hard to save my mother no matter what it took. But she would have felt real fear, not just for herself, but for my father and the daughter she was leaving behind. Why did they have to die? What had they done so wrong that would cause someone to come after them? My parents were good, honest people. It was unfathomable that this could have happened to such good people. Every time that I tried to wrap my head around it I just couldn't. It was impossible that they were gone, even more impossible that someone could knowingly and willing hurt them. I couldn't bear the thought of it; it was just too much.

  But someone hadn't cared about the kind of people they were, it hadn't mattered at all. They were not just murdered, they were brutally murdered. Their blood had been all over the room they were killed in. It had been like watching a horror movie. I couldn't even imagine the kind of people that were capable of such a thing. It was something you thought only happened in the movies. Real people didn't do things like that. Thankfully I had not seen it firsthand or else I may have been admitted to a mental hospital by now. The police, however, had shown me pictures after I demanded to know what happened to my parents. The pictures alone were enough to give me nightmares; I didn't know how the police had managed to walk through that crime scene without losing it. I would never be able to get those images out of my head; they would haunt me forever. My poor parents. Had they known it was coming? Or had they been taken completely by surprise?

  The police believed they were murdered by a MOB organization that went by the name of Snakes. No one really knew who the head of the organization was, although there was speculation. I couldn't even fathom what they had been talking about. I thought they were joking when they told me. They had to be. My parents got caught up in the MOB — no it just wasn't possible. My parents were normal people, they had never been in trouble ever. My father used to lecture me about the speeding tickets that I got; how on earth had he managed to get involved with the MOB? No, it was some kind of a sick joke, it just had to be. My father would never do something so illegal and dangerous. He loved my mother too much to risk her life.

  When I had met with the police they had told me that the MOB organization was based in LA. They believed they were the cause of it due to a letter that had been left behind at the murder scene. The letter had been short and sweet, “If you don't pay, then you pay the price.” It had been signed with an insignia that only that MOB used apparently. The police told me that it was just something they did after a kill, leave random short phrases behind with their victims. It sickened me that my parents had been a lesson to others. Leaving a note on a kill site seemed just too cold and callused. Who were these people? Monsters. Every one of them.

  It was discovered that my father had owed a lot of money. He had taken out a second mortgage on the house and just got in over his head. I had no idea that they had trouble with money to begin with. They had never spoken about their finances with me; really it was none of my business. My mother hadn't been aware that my father had gone to the MOB for a loan. The problem with borrowing from sharks was that there was always a steep deadline, and if it wasn't paid you would pay with your life. How had my father gotten messed up in all that? What was he thinking going to the MOB for money? He had risked my mother’s life trying to get out of financial trouble. It just wasn't worth it. He should have lost the house, the cars, everything before he risked my mother’s life. Tears welled up inside my eyes once again as I thought about my parents. I had loved them so dearly and they had been ripped out of my life senselessly. Why? None of it made sense, and the more I thought about it, the crazier I felt.

  No arrests had been made however; the MOB knew what they were doing. They couldn't arrest anyone because there was no solid evidence to do so. They knew it was the MOB but they had to prove it. Without fingerprints or some other solid evidence it was all useless. My parents’ death was useless and no one would end up paying the price for taking their lives. It didn't make sense. Someone needed to pay for taking away my life. My parents were human beings and they didn't deserve to die over something as stupid as money. I felt bile rise up in my throat as I thought about my mother helpless and afraid, being butchered by some monster trying to settle a score. I looked around the room and made a beeline for the bathroom. Once inside I locked the door and headed for the toilet. I retched up what little food I had in my stomach. As I stared into the toilet bowl, tears sprang up into my eyes once again. Fuck! Why did this have to happen to my parents! They were good people who didn't deserve to be slaughtered. God, to think of what they must have gone through, I couldn't bear it. I wanted to pound those thoughts out of my head, but no matter what I did those thoughts always returned.

  I knew something had to be done. I needed to know who was responsible for their death and make them pay for taking my parents away from me. The cops had given up all hope of bringing anyone to justice because they just couldn't find the proof to bring anyone down. That was the shitty part about the law, they could only do so much. If they didn't have the proof they needed then the murderer walked. How was that possible? The legal system just didn't make sense at times. It was meant to protect you and yet people died every day and killers wal
ked free.

  Staring into that bowl I knew that it was up to me. I had to find out what happened to my parents and who was responsible for their horrible death. I made a rash decision to move to California as soon as possible. I would leave Illinois behind and see if I could figure out who killed my parents. I knew deep down that it was a terrible idea but I had to do it anyways. I knew I would never be able to live without knowing what happened to them. It would be easy to find another accounting job in California. I could start over there. I would not tell anyone why I was going. It was up to me to figure things out. I would start a new life in California and part of that life would be to bring the murderer to justice. That monster would not get away with taking my parents from me.

  I just hoped that it wouldn't cost me my life to do so.

  Chapter Two

  Present Day

  Damon

  Funerals made me crazy. It was crazy to think that you had to dress up a corpse and say your goodbyes. Where had this tradition even come from? It made not a lick of sense to me. Why dress up a body and put it out for show? It was all a little creepy if you asked me. I had been to quite a few funerals in my day and they were all the same. A dead body, people standing around crying or just looking uncomfortable. I hated being in a room full of mourners. Being the son of a MOB boss put you in a position where death was just a way of life. It was something you got used to whether you wanted to or not. But if I never had to go to another funeral in my life I would be a very happy man. I glanced over at the coffin and sighed deeply as I saw the man inside. He would be outraged to know he looked terrible lying there. He no longer looked strong and powerful. He looked mortal and weak, which was the last thing he would ever want.

  My father was 63 years old when he died of a heart attack. He led a very stressful life so it wasn't really surprising when he dropped dead. He was too young to go but the life he led was not a normal one. It was my father that was the guest of honor at this funeral. We had never been really close. I think it's hard to be when your father is a powerful man and I longed to be the same. We never talked much these days because my dad had made me take control of the MOB’s money. Exciting wasn't it? Hardly. I was interested in a little more power; I was no one’s damn accountant. I didn't want to be in charge of money. It was a nothing position. But my dad always believed that I wasn't capable of getting my hands dirty. He didn't trust me with any of the important jobs; I was just the money man and it pissed me off. Now he was dead.

  I looked down at my mother who was currently crying on my shoulder. Despite the kind of man he was, my mother had adored my father. She had loved him from the moment they met and she had been destroyed by his death. I, however, couldn't shed a tear. Mainly because I just didn't give a fuck. My father had not been a good man, not even a decent one, and he never believed in me, not for a moment. His death would not be mourned by me.

  I just wanted to have the day over so that I could get on with my life. I wasn't sure who was to run the family business now but I was not planning on taking any orders.

  My dad’s right hand man, Gord, approached my mother and I slowly.

  “I want to just tell you, Mrs. Alexander, how sorry I am for your loss. Your husband meant a great deal to me.”

  I almost rolled my eyes.

  “Thank you, Gord, you two were always so close,” she whispered.

  Gord looked at me and I nodded at him. “Damon, I will need to see you at the meeting tonight. We have much to discuss.”

  I just nodded at him again and watched him walk away. Every week the top members of the organization came together for a meeting. My father used to run them, and I was invited to one before. My father always thought it was unnecessary for me to be there. It used to piss me off; I was still in the family business and I wanted to be a part of things but my father would never allow me. I wasn't allowed at the meetings, he would just come to me whenever he needed to talk money. So why would I now be invited to the meetings? What did the other members want from me? They knew how my father had felt about my involvement so why now?

  Heading into the boardroom where the meetings were held I saw most everyone had already arrived. They were sitting at the table as one of the lower associates was handing out glasses of bourbon. They loved to drink their bourbon and talk shop, just like in the movies. So predictable.

  I shook hands as I went around the room and heard the same 'I'm sorry' that I had been hearing for days. I just nodded my head saying very little and took a seat.

  Gord came into the room and said, “No Damon, you should take the head.”

  My eyebrows raised, he was referring to the head of the table where my father used to sit. I got up from the seat and made my way to the head of the table.

  “So you want to explain to me what I'm doing here? We all know that my father wasn't a big fan of me and I was never allowed here before, so what's up?”

  “It is time to get things back on track now that your father has been buried. We need someone to run the organization.”

  “So how does that affect me? I'm just in charge of the money. Do whatever the hell you guys want.”

  Gord looked around the room uncomfortably. “You don't seem to understand Damon, there is a part of your father’s will that stipulates what happens to the organization in the event of his death.”

  I sighed. “Okay, so what is it? Who is in charge?”

  “You are.”

  My brow furrowed in confusion. “What are you talking about? My father wouldn’t leave me in charge.”

  “But he did. The organization must be directed by the oldest in the family. You are the oldest of your brothers and it is now your job to run things, just like your father did. You have control over the organization now.”

  Holy shit. I couldn't have been more stunned by what Gord had just said to me. Was that my father’s intention all along, to have me run things, or was it just tradition to have the oldest take over? Either way, I didn't give a shit. I finally had what I wanted. I was stunned but confident that I would be able to take on my father’s job and do what he would have wanted me to do. The billion dollar business that my father had built from the ground up was now mine to control.

  “The first order of business here, Damon, is to find someone to take over your position. We need someone to control the money and to handle the numbers. We need someone who won't ask too many questions.”

  Interesting.

  Chapter Three

  Cadence

  Looking around my new apartment I felt a little pride. It had been six months since my parents’ death and a fresh start was certainly what I needed the most. Although I had different reasons for moving to California, I was glad for the change, the new surroundings to help me to cope. I needed a fresh start, a new life from the one I had been leading. All I could think about was my parents and how being back in Illinois just reminded me of them all the time. My family and friends had tried to convince me to stay; they thought that California was a rash decision and that I would get caught up in a world that would only blind me from the pain that I was feeling. It was true, I was hiding from the pain I felt over my parents’ death, but I also had a mission. I was there for a reason and no one else would ever understand that. There was no point in explaining myself to anyone. If they had any idea I was planning on contacting the MOB and finding out who killed my parents, they would have me locked up. I couldn't exactly blame them; it was a crazy idea. But I felt I had to do it. I had to honor my parents and get justice for their death. Maybe I was naive that I could go up against people in the MOB, but I had a hard time letting it go. I didn't want to let it go. I could do nothing to help my parents; I hadn't even known that they were in trouble. I needed to do this for them, not only for myself. I wish I had known they were in trouble, but even if I had, what would I have done? It was an impossible situation.

  Moving into my new apartment felt incredible. I had something of my own once again and I was planning on embracing the new start f
or whatever it was worth at that point. I had a lot of work to do, that was for sure. I needed to find a job, the sooner the better. It was all part of the fresh start I had; plus my savings would only last so long. I needed to bring in an income, as California wasn't exactly a cheap place to live. I had a few interviews at companies already, but I had yet to be hired by anyone. It was starting to get a little frustrating, but I had to hold out hope that I would get a job soon. California was a big place, after all. There was no shortage of jobs, and I was confident that I would get one soon. Hopefully sooner rather than later cause this girl had some bills to pay. Not only that, but getting the inside track on people in the MOB would require me to be social, and being social required some money.

  I decided to do some research on the MOB in the area. I set up my laptop and opened up Google. I started reading some news clippings about the MOB that was controlling L.A. and the surrounding area. I didn't find too much information about particulars in the MOB. They were rumored to be part of the Alexander family, however. Were they the ones running the show? One article had a picture of the Alexander family; they looked not only content with their existence, but very powerful. There was a man and a woman who looked very happy together. With them were three boys. I had to assume they were the sons of the family. Were these people responsible for my parents’ death? I looked up the father’s name and did a search on him as well. An obituary came up and I stared at it in shock. The father had died of a heart attack a week ago; the funeral had been just a few days ago. He's dead. His death was surprising but it wasn't that big of a deal. The father was the MOB leader; he wasn't the one that butchered my family. It would have been someone under him. Though he would certainly have been the person that sent out the marching orders. He was just as responsible for my parents’ death as the one that took their lives, but he was dead now and out of my reach. That had to be some form of karma, however. The only problem was, just because he died didn't mean the MOB did. Someone always took over control. Which one was it? It had to be one of his sons, as that would make the most sense. They always passed things down to other members of the family; it's not like it would be passed to a stranger. So which son would be taking control and was he as ruthless as his father? It must take a certain type of person to be in the MOB. To be in charge of being bad when you had to get back the money they loaned out. How did these people ever live with themselves when they knew they were sentencing people to death over money? It made me sick to my stomach.