by Ashley Lyn
“Are you happy?”
The smile that graces his face tells me everything I need to know. Emotion is running high for the both of us right now. I couldn’t even answer that question without bursting into tears, and Jace can’t even get it out at all.
“Okay, let’s talk wedding plans.” I twist the cap on my cheap wine and knock it back straight from the bottle because really, it was seven bucks, do you really need a glass?
“Overall, a theme, I don’t really care. I want a blue dress. Well, maybe a blue and white dress. I want one of those kickass bouquets made out of, like, buttons and shit, and I want a tower of blue and white cupcakes liberally sprinkled with glitter. No heels. I can find some sparkly Vans. White roses with some kind of blue flower accents. I don’t know squat about flowers, so that’s something we’ll need to go over with a florist.”
He bursts out laughing. “Been thinking about this, have you?”
“I have a Pinterest board.”
“What about the venue?”
“Up in Red Feather somewhere. We might have to look into that tonight and scout some locals before you head home.”
We both jerk when Jace’s phone rings.
“Hey, babe,” he answers, and I know it’s Bo.
“Becca and I are wedding planning. I’m putting you on speaker phone since my hands are wet we’re in her hot tub.” He sets the phone on a stack of towels.
“Do you know of any good locations for a wedding in Red Feather?” I ask Bo.
“You could have it at my house if you want.” Jace’s jaw drops.
“You sure, baby?” Jace asks and Bo.
“I’ve never seen your place. Could I maybe come by soon and take some pictures so I can show Tristan?”
“Yeah, that’s fine.” Jace is waving me away, probably so he can talk dirty to his man, so I jump up. “I forgot my sunglasses…and a Hot Pocket. I’ll be back in a minute.”
I hop out as gracefully as a three-day drunk frat boy and land on my ass. I pop up and sprint into the house.
I may have left, but no way am I not trying to eavesdrop. Luckily for me, the kitchen curtains are open and I can see right into the back yard. I smile when I see the sweet smile on Jace’s face. I turn around and open the freezer, like I’m actually looking for a Hot Pocket, which now that I think about it, sounds good.
I get lost in my head, thinking about wedding plans, and head outside.
“Y’all are cute as fuck! Like four-week-old puppies, kitties, and tiny babies,” I tell him, jumping and clapping.
Jace cocks his head “Where’s your Hot Pocket?”
I clamp my lips shut because it’s there, right there, and I need to say it. It’s beyond crass, even for me.
“I got a hot pocket right here.” I gesture to my crotch like the porn star version of Vanna White.
Jace leans his head back in exasperation.
“I tried, I did,” I tell him, hopping back in the tub.
“Becca, Hot Pockets!”
“Oh, shoot. Fine, I’ll be right back.”
Hopping out of the tub again, I land on my ass—again. I’m on a mission for Hot Pockets. I snicker to myself, Hot Pockets.
I wave at Jace as he backs his truck out of my drive. I then fumble with the door because the damn thing is always sticking. After we got out of the tub, we grabbed and Uber and went out to eat.
If I would’ve been sober, I would’ve noticed the door swing open after I closed it.
My toe catches on the rug and I stumble, giggling.
“This is just too easy,” someone says, turning my guts to stone. I squint, trying to see in the darkness. The voice doesn’t sound familiar, and his words cause goose bumps to race over my skin.
My blurry eyes miss a lot of things, like the fist heading toward my face.
Pain explodes and blood starts running down my face. Gasping, trying to deal with the overwhelming pain, I choke on the blood running down my nose and into my mouth.
Turning around, I try and make a run for the door, but his hand in my hair jerks me back, causing pain to erupt from my scalp.
“Can you hear me, little bitch?”
I nod my head.
“Good. Tell that pussy brother of yours to call off the search. Stop looking for Rayleen.”
I nod my head again. His sick breath fans my face, and I feel his nose run up my neck. “Let me hear you say it, bitch,” he whispers.
“Tell Carter to stop,” I whimper when he tightens his grip on my hair. “To stop looking for Rayleen.”
“Good girl.” He hooks my feet and pushes me down on the floor. I try and crawl to the door where my purse fell, when a vicious kick to the ribs has me gasping for air.
My eyes snap open and I immediately want to close them. My face feels swollen and my ribs burn with every breath.
Looking around my living room, I see my purse under the side table. Getting on my hands and knees, I slowly make my way to the table. Reaching under it, I pull my phone out and call Jace.
I really want to call Tristan, but Jace is closer. “Bec, I just left. I’m tired—”
“Jace.” The pain is evident in my voice.
“Becca? What’s wrong?”
“Someone broke in after you left. I need you to come over. I need to go to the emergency room.”
“Fuck, Becca, is the door locked? If not, lock it. I’ll stay on the phone, just hold tight, darling.”
“Jace, hurry, I’m scared.”
“Have you called Tristan?”
“No. I’ll call him when you get here.”
I’m so tired. My eyes start drooping and I really want a nap.
“Becca!” Jace yells, scaring me, making me jerk. Pain radiates from my face and ribs.
“This hurts, Jace.”
“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m two minutes away, just stay awake and hold on for me.”
“Okay.”
“Tell me more about your wedding.”
“I really can’t wait to marry him, Jace. I love him so much, at times I feel like an over boiling pot. I want you to be my man of honor. I want it small, but beautiful, blingy, blue and amazing.”
My eyes drop, and then open wide. “I want appetizers. I want them to be little heart-shaped peanut butter and jelly sandwiches”
He chuckles. “Whatever you want, we can make it happen, sweetie.”
My living room lights up as Jace pulls in the driveway. “Is that you?”
“Yeah, darling. Hang up and call Tristan.”
The effort it would take to move the phone and dial Tristan seems like an awful lot. “Becca, I’m just walking into my house, baby. Can you hang on?”
“No.” I’ve been trying really hard not to cry, knowing that if I start sobbing, my ribs are going to start screaming as well.
“What’s wrong?” he demands.
“I think you guys are getting closer on the whole finding Rayleen thing.”
“Why?”
“Because I just had a visitor.”
“Fuck. Is Jace still close? Becca, get him there now.”
“I did. He just pulled up.”
Jace comes in and snaps on the light. I squint, and fresh tears track silently down my face. Jace moans.
My head’s pounding so hard, I feel like one of those squishy toys, where the eyes bug out. I close my eyes again and drop my phone.
TRISTAN
“Tristan.” Jace’s voice comes over the line and my gut fucking rots.
“Jace, how bad?”
“She passed out. Her face is swollen up like a balloon. She was holding her ribs when I came in, and her face…fuck, Tris, her face looks bad. I called 911, they’re on the way.”
“They’ll probably take her to Denver Health.” I jump in my truck and take off to Cash’s house. I need him to start looking into things while I go to the hospital.
When Jace informs me that the EMTs are there, I hang up and hit the steering wheel. I should’ve thought about it, should’ve known onc
e Miranda started uncovering shit, something like this would happen.
Sliding into Cash’s driveway, I jump out and start banging on the door.
“Jesus, hold your horses.”
The door swings open and Cash is standing there in boxers. “What?”
“It’s Becca. I need you to get over to her house see what you can find.”
“What happened?”
“Miranda’s been looking into Rayleen for Carter. Something’s way fucking off, and she’s digging deep, trying to figure it out. Someone paid a visit to Becca, and she’s being taken to Denver Health right now.”
“Why the fuck would they visit Becca? Why not you? Or Miranda?” He grabs some pants off the floor and jerks them on. Dialing on his cell phone, he sits down and slides his feet into his boots.
My phone vibrates. Looking down, I see Carter texted me to let me know he landed.
Tristan: Get to Denver Health.
Carter: Why?
Tristan: It’s Becca.
The phone rings. I take a deep breath, answer, and destroy my best friend.
TRISTAN
In my time in the military, I’ve seen some shit. Shit that turns the stomach of some of the most hardened men.
Seeing Becca lying in bed, her face so swollen I couldn’t even see her gorgeous eyes, was fucking devastating.
I failed her.
She’s mine. Mine to protect, to keep safe from harm, and I left her to deal with whoever did this to her, alone.
Carter’s sitting in a chair facing the window. The doctor just left. She has two bruised ribs. Her nose is shattered, but once the swelling goes down a bit, they’ll have a plastic surgeon come in to repair the damage. She has a mild concussion. Through the whole examination, she didn’t wake up once.
My eyes haven’t moved from her since I walked in here. I keep praying that she’ll open her eyes, or as the case may be with her, her mouth.
Nothing.
I know that they have her sedated, comfortable, and pain-free, but I can’t help but worry.
“I fucked up,” I rasp out.
“Fuck,” Carter says, turning to look at me. “You didn’t hit her, you didn’t kick her. Save it. Save all that anger, guilt, and rage for when we find this fucker. Use it, Tris. You take everything you’re feeling and use it. Find this asshole. Use it for when she wakes up. Hold it close for the rest of your life, and use it to keep her safe, happy, and healthy. For when you have my nieces and we got to keep them out of some young punk’s arms. I’ve been through hell for years and I didn’t use it, I abused it. I let it rot in my gut, turning me into someone I never thought I would be. What you do not fucking do is turn it inside. You don’t take that on as your own.”
He walks over and picks up her hand and kisses her knuckles. “She’s like my mom, tough as hell. She wakes up, you bet your ass she’s going to come up kicking and screaming. She’s a fighter, Tris, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Be there for her, support her and fight with her, but do not wrap her in cotton—don’t hold her down. You have to learn to fly with her.”
Walking over, he wraps his hand around the back of my neck and pulls my head close. “Love you like a brother, man. She wakes up, tell her I love her. I’ll call as soon as I find something.”
“You’re leaving?”
“Have to find this asshole, figure out what the fuck’s going on with Ray.”
“You tell him yet?” We both hear from the bed. “And I love you too, big brother.”
I shake my head.
“Tell me what?” He looks at Becca, and then at me.
“I haven’t had a chance. Becca, how are you feeling? You need anything?”
“Do you want me to tell him or do you want to?”
“Becca,” I whisper.
“Someone better start fucking talking,” Carter grinds out.
Kissing Becca’s forehead, I turn around and face Carter.
“Miranda found no leads on Rayleen. She’s in the wind, off the grid, whatever you want to call it.”
“Okay, you said that already.”
“Last time she was on the grid, she was in the hospital.” His face blanches white. “She had a baby, a son. She listed you as the father. His name is Kyrian Carter Michelson, Born September 27th, 2006.”
“Nine months, nine months, nine months,” he starts repeating.
“Carter!” His eyes snap to mine. “Use it, just like you told me.”
“Where is he?” he chokes out.
“Off-grid, same as Ray.”
“Find one, find both,” he says.
“Carter, you need to stay focused. We need to get with Miranda and find out where she was poking last. Wherever she was digging is a sore spot. Whoever it was lashed out. Figure out what it was and follow the trail. We find the man who did this to Bec, we might find Ray and Kyrian. Or at the very least, have a solid lead.”
Clenching his fists at his sides, he confirms he gets me. “I’ll call Miranda and hook up with her at the office, call the others and figure this shit out once and for all.”
He turns on his heel and stalks out the door.
“Lay it on me, big man, what’s the deal?”
As I lay out her list of injuries, her calm demeanor soothes my chaotic soul. This whole situation is fucked. But there’s Becca, stalwart and strong, so I use it, just like Carter said to. We’ll get through this easier and quicker as a strong team.
Team Taylor.
BECCA
I hate hospitals. The food tastes like something a frog would shit out, and I’m fairly certain this flat as fuck mattress that resembles a slab of concrete has permanently reshaped my amazing ass into a dinner plate.
Nurses poking, prodding at all hours of the day and night. Drooling over my man, smiling at him like they have a chance in hell. I’m trying to talk Jace into busting me out, but he just sits there, legs crossed, flipping through a Women’s Day magazine, like he gives a rat’s ass about an article about menopause and sex lives after forty.
The plastic surgeon just left, going over the plans to straighten out my smashed nose. On the plus side, I can get rid of the bump on my nose I got when I busted it as a child. Bright sides!
Tristan is out in the waiting room on the phone, and I’m stuck with my best friend who refuses to go and get me a cupcake.
Jace heaves a sigh, sets down his magazine and stands next to my bed, holding out his hands. “Let’s go. The pee pee dance in bed is getting old.”
He helps me out of bed, and I’m still pouting about the cupcake, but he paid attention when the nurse got me out earlier for a shower, and it wasn’t nearly as painful as I expected.
“You can’t have anything to eat because they might be taking you in for surgery.”
“Stop being logical.”
Shuffling into the bathroom, I grab the sides of my gown and pull it forward. Jace helps lower me to the toilet and leaves me to handle my business. I just finish wiping when a smell hits my nose that has me moaning.
There’s a knock on the door. “Bec, you done? You need help?”
I whimper, and the door flies open. “Becca?”
“Please tell me that you got me tacos? I can smell them. My nose never lies to me. If it smells tacos, it smells fucking tacos,” I plead with my best doe-eyed look.
“No…I had some tacos in the hallway.”
“I strongly dislike you right now. What’s the latest update from Miranda?” I ask Tristan.
“Shell company after shell company. She was all hyped up on Red Bull and hummus when I left. She’s taken over the freaking conference room. Paper, Post-its, and empty food containers everywhere.”
Tristan puts his arm behind my shoulders and helps me lean back on the bed, then takes the opportunity to lay one on me. I smile against his lips when I hear Carter gag.
I flip him off.
Carter’s phone rings and he answers it. Pulling it away from his ear, he scowls at it, then puts it on speaker phone
.
“I found him! That’s right, you bastard, suck it! Does the name Charles King ring a bell?”
Carter’s face immediately goes red. “Yes,” he bites out.
“Figured you would since he used to be friends with dear old Daddy Dickhead. Charles purchased Rayleen’s father’s company from her just two days after she cut you loose. Buried it in so many bogus shell companies, it was like trying to find a hermit crab in a mound of seashells.”
“Dad did this to Becca?”
“Daddy Dick and Charles had a falling out about six years ago, and there’s severe animosity between them. The company is falling apart. Everyone close to Charles is scattering like rats.”
“Why?”
“Rumors is, the FBI is investigating him for insider trading, racketeering, the fucking works. Even human trafficking. His right-hand man, Brock Harris, has a 2016 Range Rover registered in his name, which hit traffic cams heading to Becca’s house, and then pings again on the way out of her neighborhood.”
My jaw drops. “Rayleen and Kyrian? Anything about them?”
“I’m sorry. There’s still nothing other than Ray sold the company to him. I’m still digging. I sent the boys to scout, see if maybe they could see something of her or the boy at Charles’s house in Cherry Creek.”
“Call me soon as you hear something.”
“I’m going with you,” Tristan tells him, and for a moment, I want to be selfish. They’re going to cut into my face, wiggle the broken pieces of my nose back into some semblance of a shape, and I want him with me. But looking at Carter, I know he needs Tristan more than I do. I’ll be fine.
“Becca?”
“I got this, big sexy. Now come give me some kisses. Let’s swap some spit before you split.”
“I’ll be in the hallway,” Carter mumbles.
The gentle kiss is soft and sweet, and so perfect. It conveys everything. “I’ll be fine, Tris, I promise. I’m not leaving you for anything, so go save the day, I’ll be here when you’re done.”
