by Aly Martinez
My attitude slipped as I snapped, “He’s an old friend of Kurt’s, so I’m not thinking Jonah is going to say shit.” Hopefully because he’s dead from a blunt force trauma to the groin. I tossed him a sugary-sweet smile, and after a few beats, his scrutinizing gaze flicked away.
He lifted the glass of orange juice to his lips, and I vowed right then and there that, regardless of what happened, Jonah only had 699,994 dollars because he was paying to replace my damn orange juice.
“Then get back to it,” Tony grumbled, pulling the door shut behind him.
My shoulders sagged, but the hurricane still blew inside me. I’d dodged a bullet, but I was still before the firing squad.
Jeremy had every right to hang up on me. It’d hurt like hell, but I was desperate enough that I couldn’t allow myself to acknowledge it. I could be embarrassed and riddled with guilt after Whitney was safe.
I hit redial and put the phone back to my ear. As the ringing droned on unanswered, my chest tightened until I feared it was going to break.
This was it. My only hope. And he hated me.
“Guardian Protection Agency,” a woman said with the slightest Southern accent that matched my own.
“Hi, uh… May I please speak to Jeremy Lark?”
“Oh, honey. He didn’t pick up? I’m sorry—”
“He did. But, um…” I nervously brushed the ends of my hair over my lips. “I think we accidentally got disconnected.”
“Okay. Let me grab him again. Hang on for a second.”
I sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm my frazzled nerves. I’d had a gun to my head, but somehow, talking to Jeremy was scarier.
As I paced my room, waiting for him to answer, a million scenarios danced through my thoughts. In most of them, he hung up on me again. In one, he apologized, stating that it really had been an accident. But, no matter how far I allowed my mind to drift, never once did my Jeremy answer that phone. That was the impossible.
Too many years had passed. Too many things had changed. What if he didn’t even remember me?
After walking over to the full-length mirror on the back of my bedroom door, I realized that the woman staring back at me wasn’t the Mira he had known. For the better—and the worse.
Time had taken its toll. I’d aged well at least physically; my hair was still thick and healthy. I’d gained a few pounds, but luckily, they had made themselves at home in areas like my butt and boobs. And, while gravity hadn’t exactly been my friend, it wasn’t my enemy, either. Men still noticed me. I felt their gazes when I was at work at the bar. More than a few phone numbers scrawled onto cocktail napkins got slipped my way. But I knew too well that the advantages of beauty were limited to the beauty of the world around you. And, since the last time I’d seen Jeremy Lark, I’d lived an ugly existence.
When his voice finally filtered across the line, a part of me died. I was bringing that filth to the most beautiful thing I’d ever had.
“Do not call back,” he snarled in greeting.
“Please don’t hang up,” I rushed out, tears welling in my eyes. “I’m in trouble.”
The line went silent and I had to pull it away from my ear to see if he’d hung up.
He hadn’t.
With hope washing over me, I dropped my voice to a whisper. “Listen, there’s a man in my house, so I don’t have time to explain it all, but someone broke in last night and kidnapped my best friend. I know you do personal protection and…I… Well, I have seven hundred thousand dollars I can pay you to find her.”
Christ. Saying it out loud sounded ludicrous.
But it was the truth.
And that was all I had left.
Nerves rolling in my stomach, I sank down on the corner of my bed, praying for a miracle.
That miracle remained painfully silent.
“Jeremy,” I whispered, my anxiety climbing. “Please. I need help.”
“Then I suggest you call the cops,” he rumbled.
A wave of relief crashed over me. At least he was talking.
“I can’t. At least not yet. God only knows what Jonah would do to Whitney.” A lump lodged in my throat. “I’m sorry, okay? I know I shouldn’t be calling you. But I don’t know what else to do.” I screwed my eyes shut and pinched the bridge of my nose. “I’m not asking for a favor. This is strictly professional. The seven hundred thousand dollars is in cash. Though I’m not exactly sure it’s legal—”
“Shut up!” he boomed.
My back shot straight, and my heart jumped into my throat. “Jer—”
“Do not fucking call my job and dump this shit on me. I don’t want to know why you won’t call the cops. I don’t want to know why someone broke into your house and kidnapped your best friend. And I sure as fuck don’t want to know why you have seven hundred thousand dollars in cash that may or may not be legal. Hang up the phone and never dial this number again. I am not involved in whatever-the-fuck bullshit you have going on in your life right now. And, most importantly, I am not involved in your life at all.”
Every word felt like an arrow searing through me. He was right; I couldn’t deny that. But…
“I don’t know who else to call!” I whisper-yelled, watching the door for any sign of Tony.
“Your husband!” he yelled so loudly that I had to pull the phone away from my ear.
It had been a lifetime since we’d spoken, but at the mention of Kurt, the hurt and betrayal in his voice were as prominent as they’d been the day he’d walked away.
But, for me, Kurt was nothing more than the spark that lit my fuse. He’d cost me too many years of my life.
Not anymore.
Jumping to my feet, I seethed, “Kurt is the one who sent them to find me! Four hours ago, a man held a gun to my head—a gun my ex-husband somehow supplied him with, despite the fact that he is currently in prison. They took my roommate and my fucking dog, Jeremy. My goddamn dog!” I sucked in as much air as my lungs could hold and carried on. “Right now, there is a different armed man sitting in my living room, drinking my fucking organic orange juice, ready to put a bullet in my head if I don’t figure out how to clean seven hundred thousand dollars in drug money for my aforementioned ex-husband. So, yeah…it is safe to assume Kurt doesn’t give one single fuck about me.” I laughed without humor, the reality of it all shredding me. “I am not asking for a favor. I’m asking to pay you for your protection services in order to get a terrified twenty-three-year-old girl—an innocent girl—somewhere safe so that they cannot hurt her when I call the police, turn Jonah in, and then bask in the world of ugliness that my piece-of-shit ex-husband rained down on me.” By the time I finished, my chest was heaving and my heart was racing, but the fire burning inside me roared stronger than ever.
I was mad. So fucking mad.
But not at Jeremy.
Hell, maybe not even at Kurt.
Yes, he’d played me more times than I could count. But it had taken almost fourteen years of my life before I’d finally grown the balls to get rid of him forever.
That was the hardest part. Knowing that there was no one to blame for my current predicament except myself.
And, not surprisingly, there was no one left to come to my rescue.
It was time to save myself. But that wasn’t what I was doing… I was dumping my garbage on someone else. Holding that phone in my hand, begging for Jeremy’s help, made me no better than Kurt.
Jeremy had a good life. One he’d made for himself out of nothing. He had a job that, while I wasn’t sure what his position entailed, I assumed accepting known drug money wasn’t going to win him any accolades. And then there were his kids… They depended on him. Yet there I was, asking him to risk it all. For me—the woman who had never chosen him.
My shoulders shook as realization dug its claws in. It was over. My last hope had been nothing more than an oasis born from desperation.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called,” I blurted.
But I was a coward, because
even though I realized what a fool I’d been in making that call, I didn’t hang up. With trembling hands, I held the phone at my ear, listening to him breathe while pleading with the universe that he’d tell me to wait.
Mira. That’s all he’d have to say.
But it never came.
He didn’t hang up though. That’s not the way Jeremy and I worked.
Seventeen years earlier, I had been the one who had let him go.
This time would be no different.
“Son of a fucking bitch!” I sent the phone sailing across Leo’s office. The cord caught, yanking the base and a large stack of papers off the side.
Jude, Johnson, and Apollo jumped out of the way, but I was too busy plotting someone’s death to pay them any attention.
I wasn’t sure whose death it was going to be yet. My ever-spinning roulette wheel of emotions hadn’t yet landed on my victim. There was a solid chance that it was going to be Kurt, but I hadn’t ruled out Mira—or, hell, even myself.
“Lark, man. You…okay?” Jude asked cautiously.
“Motherfucking dandy,” I sneered, raking a rough hand through my hair.
Fucking Mira.
“Care to tell me what the hell is going on?” Johnson growled, prowling toward me.
“Nothing.”
“Didn’t sound like nothing.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Well, it was. And I’d appreciate you fucking dropping it.”
He stopped in front of me, uncomfortably close, and planted his hands on his hips. “Try again. And, this time, explain the cops, kidnapping, and seven hundred thousand dollars.”
Outstanding.
I considered Johnson a friend, and a good one at that. But, as twenty-five-percent owner at Guardian Protection, he was also my boss. I did not need him getting all up in my business.
Shit! How the hell had Mira fucking York become my business again?
My answer came as her voice echoed in my ears. “Please. I’m in trouble.”
Indecision warred inside me.
On one side of the battle lines was a petty little man, pissed off and angry for all the bullshit she had pulled on him back in the day. That man didn’t want to care that she was in trouble. Served her right. That part of me was dying to tell her to fuck off like I’d planned out in my head on the rare occasions I’d allowed myself to think about her over the years.
But, on the other side, there was the man I had become—the father of two daughters—who had just heard that a woman I cared about—even in the past—was being held at gunpoint.
For some asinine reason, I had been the man she’d chosen to call for help. And I’d let her hang up without so much as finding out where she was. All because I was so torn that I couldn’t form a goddamn sentence.
I hated that woman.
But it was Mira.
Not even seventeen years was enough to keep my heart from reacting to the sound of her voice. However, it hadn’t reacted with thoughts of roses and long-lost loves. It had been an explosion of pain in my chest and a sharp stabbing in my gut.
Time changed people. God knew I was a different person. But, for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out how she could have gotten herself into a situation that involved drugs, guns, and kidnapping. Mira had always been good to the core. It was one of the things I had loved most about her. She’d kept me on the straight and narrow. Hell, the first time I’d taken her to our spot in the woods, I’d had to blindfold her so she couldn’t see the no trespassing signs.
And now…
Kurt.
His moral compass had always resembled more of a watch without batteries. But this mountain of bullshit was a stretch even for him. Then again, she’d said that he was in prison. Surprising. But not shocking.
For the first year as I’d withered, I’d done my best to secretly keep up with Kurt and Mira. Thanks to a few friends back at battalion, I had known they’d gotten engaged and then later married. But, after the day I’d decided to turn my life around, I’d never looked back again.
Until now.
“Fucking hell,” I groaned.
Johnson cocked his head to the side and eyed me warily. “Melissa in some kind of trouble?”
My head popped up. “That wasn’t her.”
Jude closed in on me. “Then who was it?”
Wasn’t that the million-dollar question?
Mira was a stranger to me.
I knew her name. I knew her past. I’d once known her heart.
And, because of that, I knew I was about to make the biggest mistake of my entire life.
The decision had been made the minute she’d dialed my number. And I fucking hated her for it. Mainly because, regardless how much I hated her, she knew me well enough to know I’d do it anyway.
One call. One word. And I was back at her mercy.
Seventeen years and the strings that had bound us together still held strong, no matter how hard I’d tried to break them.
“I need a favor,” I said, sweeping my gaze through the room.
Johnson’s response was immediate. “Anything.”
Jude’s was a little more cautious. “You gonna tell us what that favor is first?”
“No. I need it from him,” I said, turning my attention to Apollo.
I could only imagine how murderous I must have looked, because before I started in his direction, he was already scrambling away.
“Mira York,” I stated.
Nervously, he flashed his gaze to Johnson. “Wh-what?”
“Mira Renee York. Maybe Benton.” The name felt like acid on my tongue, but I powered through. “Last I heard, she was back in Driverton, but it might be Chicago.”
“I don’t—”
“Find her!”
“It doesn’t work that way,” he argued. “I can’t just magically produce a person because you give me their name. I need—”
“Eleven eighty-seven South Euclid, Chicago, Illinois,” Johnson announced.
My heart stopped as I spun to look at him.
He pointed to the computer screen. “Google. She recently applied for a business license.”
I sucked in a deep breath, nerves radiating over my entire body. Was I really going to do this? Willingly wade into Kurt’s bullshit?
What the fuck was wrong with me?
“I’m in trouble.”
Yep. Those three words were all it took. I was out of that office before I could talk myself out of it.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Johnson said, catching my arm as I marched down the hall. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
I stared at him defiantly. “Don’t do this. I gotta go.”
His dark gaze drilled into me. “Then tell me who she is and what the hell is going on before you fly off halfcocked, getting yourself into a situation where I gotta buy a suit to be your pallbearer.”
My jaw ticked as I ground my teeth. “Just some girl I used to know.”
“Just some girl, huh?” Johnson smarted. “That why you look like you’re about to rip out of your skin, fashion it into a noose, and hang someone with it?”
“Let me go,” I growled.
“Then tell me the story before I’m forced to start guessing like this is a goddamn game of charades.”
So it appeared keeping Johnson out of my business wasn’t going to be as easy as I’d hoped. But maybe that wasn’t a bad thing. He was a big enough dick to give it to me straight. And, given the fact that I was currently considering storming the door at eleven eighty-seven South Euclid, where there was an armed man holding a woman hostage, I figured now was as good of a time as any to gain some perspective.
I yanked my arm from his grasp. “Fine. She was a girl I used to date. Or fuck.” Or love like the world was ending. “Or whatever. A couple of guys broke into her apartment, put a gun to her head, kidnapped her best friend, and dumped a fuck-ton of cash on her. Her ex-husband, who is coincidentally my ex–best friend, is in lockup. And, despite the fact that the l
ast time I saw her was an eternity ago after she fucking destroyed me, she still called me for help because there is an armed man parked on her couch, drinking her organic orange juice. Now, if you will kindly crawl out of my ass, I’m planning to go get her until I can figure out what to do about the rest of that bullshit.”
“Huh,” Johnson scoffed, scrubbing his beard with his palm. “Not quite what I was expecting. But okay. Give me ten to gather up a few of the boys and I’ll meet you in the car.”
“No. I go at this alone.”
He roared with laughter liked I’d told a joke, complete with bending over and resting his hands on his thighs.
“For fuck’s sake,” I snapped, glowering as he lifted a finger in the air while trying to catch his breath.
When he finally sobered, he shot me a smile and a wink. “As I was saying…” Grabbing the front of my shirt, he spun, slamming me hard against the wall. My breath left on a rush, and pain exploded in my lungs. “Okay. Maybe I didn’t make this clear.” He stabbed a finger against my pec. “You will not go at this alone. You think it’s important enough to run into the line of fire over some woman you haven’t seen in years, then you are going to do it smart. You’re taking Devon. He’s sharp and will watch your six while you’re off thinking with your dick. And you’re taking Alex because he’s big enough to drag both of your asses out in case you boys discover that you are not in fact capable of dodging bullets like Keanu Reeves. And you’re taking me because…well, I like a good show.”
The idea of having backup made me feel a hell of a lot better. But, in the same breath, that relief turned toxic. It was one thing to deal with Mira’s shit on my own, but dragging the guys into it too?
I clenched my teeth tighter. “No.”
He chuckled. “Too fucking bad. We’re already involved. Despite how big this office is, you forget it’s really fucking small.” He grinned and then yelled into my face, “Come on out, boys!”
Devon and Alex appeared at the mouth of the hall, shit-eating grins covering both of their faces. Clearly, they had been eavesdropping like a bunch of fucking women. And just when I thought it couldn’t get worse…
Now, everyone was involved in Mira’s bullshit.
