Bona Fide (Illusive Duet Book 2)

by Hazel Grace

  “I think we should buy this place,” Mama chimes, pulling at her yarn that’s a ball on the floor. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Gosh, Mama, can you imagine how much it probably is?”

  “Probably a lot,” she laughs. “A woman can dream though.”

  “I don’t mean to pop your bubble but yeah,” I chortle. “I think we need to buy Marty a grill for Christmas.”

  “I agree, he’s having a ball out there. His duty ends next year so he’ll have plenty of time to master it.”

  “Think he’ll actually leave?”

  Mama’s head snaps to me. “What do you mean? Has he said that he doesn’t want to?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “It’s just been such a big part of his life.”

  Mama scoffs. “I didn’t want him to go in the first place.” She starts stabbing her crocheted blanket with her hook, clearly frustrated and distraught about the fact that Marty could in fact reenlist.

  “I can talk to him, Mama, don’t worry.” I’m not trying to upset her, but Marty hasn’t mentioned being excited about his allotted time left, and I have a feeling he doesn’t know how to be anything else but a soldier.

  “I’m not sure if I can go another few more years without him. I don’t want him hurt.”

  I couldn’t tell. She only chided him for an hour about the gash on his forehead and how he needs to stop this before it kills him.

  A phone rings outside and it’s Marty’s, the mumbling of his voice following afterward.

  “I want him married with children,” Mama voices. “He seems so lonely to me even with him being around a whole platoon of people.”

  I glance back to the sliding door and see my brother pacing the deck, raking his hand through his dark hair. I never really thought about it until now, but I think she’s right.

  Marty has been in the Marines for well over a decade, and we’ve already established that he will more than likely have a hard time leaving.

  “We’ll help him,” I tell her. “He’ll be okay.”

  “I hope so.” Her voice doesn’t sound convincing enough to fill her words. “I’m afraid he’ll always feel empty.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  Mama shrugs. “Because he came from humble beginnings and didn’t grow up with—”

  “Are you talking about me again, Mama?” Marty hedges, sliding open the screen door with a plate full of burgers.

  My brows furrow together while Mama says, “Absolutely. And what are you going to do about it, boy?”

  Marty smiles and places the food on the kitchen island. “Nothing.”

  “Exactly.”

  “What was she saying, Tsarina?” Marty asks, throwing me right in the middle of ratting out Mama or lying to him.

  “How you’re obsessed with the grill,” I answer. Marty turns around from the fridge with ketchup and mustard in his hand, sending me with a “bullshit” glance before returning it to Mama, who is back to crocheting her teal blanket.

  “Mama, you want your burger done the usual way?”

  “Do you remember?”

  My brother scoffs. “Of course, I remember. Extra mustard, little ketchup, if the food touches mayo you’re not going to eat it.”

  “That’s my boy.” Marty beams at the comment and looks back to me.

  “Same, Rea?” I nod, watching him pull out the buns and begin doing his new chef thing.

  Mama’s words hit me a little harder as I watch his face be light and happy. I haven’t seen that in a while. I can hear it in his voice when he speaks to me on the phone while he’s away, but since he’s been home this last time, he’s been cranky, annoyed, and just not himself. How desolate he must feel as time goes on and he misses birthdays, holidays, and just normal days with Mama and I.

  I’ve been trying to keep our moments light, away from life in the military, but I hear him in his sleep sometimes, and they don’t sound like good dreams.

  Especially last night.

  He woke me from a dead sleep, a sharp yell coming from his room, and I sprinted out of bed to see what happened. Marty was thrashing, groaning, making sounds that I’ve never heard before as he continued to somewhat sleep through it.

  It scared me so much that I stayed awake on the small sofa in his room, watching him to make sure he didn’t do it again. That I was there if he needed me. Needless to say, he slept through the rest of the night, but I couldn’t unhear what I experienced.

  Something must’ve happened out there when he was out on the field. He must’ve seen something unthinkable for him to be dreaming about it.

  My brother is hiding something, and I don’t think he’s going to tell me.

  My cell rings at my side, displaying a blocked number on the screen. My heart quickens as I pick it up and squeeze it in my palm.

  Wade.

  “I need to take this,” I tell the room, rising from my chair and feeling my brother’s eyes burn a hole through the side of my face.

  He can be pissed, I need to hear his voice. More like want, but regardless, I’m answering this call.

  At a good distance from any prying ears, I answer it.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, Rea.” My giddy heartbeat, it drops into the pit of my stomach. My body deflates at the sound of her voice, and I loosen my grip on the phone.

  “Emmy,” I reply. “Hi, how are you?”

  “You need to stay away from the president,” she returns coldly. “This back and forth, the shit that’s going to go down, you’re only going to make it worse.”

  “What’s going to go down? What are—”

  “That’s not your concern. He has plans, and it’s going to cause a lot of press. You’re not going to act like Superman and come save him from himself.”

  “Emmy, what is he going to do? You can’t call me and tell me to stay—”

  “Yes, I can,” she retorts. “You won’t break the hold you have on him. He eats, sleeps, and dreams you. Trust me, I was there after your performance. You broke him, and the more you come back, the more he won’t heal. The more you cripple him to—” My phone is plucked from my hands and into Marty’s as he begins to stride away from me.

  “I thought I told you not to call,” he sneers into the line.

  “Marty!” I run after him to take it back, but he pivots around and holds out an arm to stop me from getting closer. “Stop!”

  “You take care of your boy,” he leers, brows furrowed so deeply that I’m surprised he can see me. “I got it handled over here.”

  He remains silent for a moment, listening to whatever Em is saying, then lowers his hand.

  I don’t move, watching him transform into a dark entity of danger and pissed. His knuckles are turning white at how hard he’s holding my phone and whatever is transpiring through their conversation.

  His green eyes overlook the yard, staying off me, intently heeding the other line.

  “We’re going to have problems if you do it again. Last fucking warning.” Then he hangs up and pockets my cell into his back pocket.

  “Marty.” His name is a whisper off my lips, and it’s then that I realize I’m scared. That something deep lies within him that I never knew existed because we’re never together. I’ve never seen him get so angry. Especially towards someone he doesn’t know. And God knows what Emmy just stated on the other line about Wade and I’s relationship.

  His gaze flicks to mine, peering down at me with such anger that I find myself cowering back. “What?” My words are choked as his expression quickly softens before my eyes.

  I coerce myself to speak. That every fear and disappointment that I’ve kept bottled up has now come to light.

  Marty will never understand how I feel about Wade. I don’t even believe he’ll ever know how I’m wired. Sometimes I don’t understand it myself. It doesn’t take much for me to fly off the handle anymore. The smallest irritation causes a sudden reaction, whether it’s getting high off my ass, calling Enzo for sex, or just sinking into
a dark pit of self-loathing over the things that have happened.

  Wade’s life is dangerous, something that I can’t afford to be a part of. However, it doesn’t stop the way I feel. The direction I think and how I wish with all my heart that things were different. After California, it only made my heart hurt worse. It was a mistake when it wasn’t. He’s still married. He’s now president. I’m the same stupid girl who loves what I shouldn’t, and yet, I crave more.

  “Relax, Tsarina.” Marty’s hands come up to my biceps and give me a gentle squeeze. “Everything is going to be alright.”

  “What did she say?” It’s a suffocated answer, but I need to know what Wade is going to do. Something inside me warns that it’s not going to end well. That what he told me a long time ago about getting rid of his demons is going to start to come to a head.

  “To shut up, in so many words, and that she was calling to talk to you. Not some overbearing big brother.”

  “Was...that it?”

  He nods. “What did she say to you?”

  “I—that...Wade was going to do something.” He lifts a brow, but he’s far from stupid. Seeing Wade in Cali made him extremely irritated. He knows the past we have together. He knows I love to fuck around with idiots and men with power. He knows my addiction runs far deeper than dope and a love of food. I’m a problem he can’t fix.

  “Like what?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t know.” Marty closes the small distance between us and wraps me in his arms, giving me a small hug.

  “Mama is probably wondering where the hell we went, but before we go in...you need to focus on you, Tsarina. He’s a big boy, these problems are too big for you.”

  He’s right, I just don’t want him to be.

  But in reality, what could I really do? Number one, it’s not my problem. Two, I can’t get my family wrapped up in his world anymore when it was never supposed to happen in the first place. And three, he’s right. I need to concentrate on my next steps and return home so I can be closer to Mama again. She can’t deal with another scandal like the previous ones I’ve been in. Marty and I had to lie to her about it being a rumor involving a possessive wife.

  She bought it, we think. She never spoke about it again.

  “His world will destroy yours,” Marty continues. “Remember that.” He breaks from me and strides back to the house.

  It already did because I still love the dumbass.

  ♫ The Scientist — Coldplay ♫

  “Eight bucks for a shot glass,” Marty mutters next to me, holding up a blue one with the Yellowstone National Park emblem on it. “Do people actually do this, Tsarina, because I’m saving lives here on a daily basis. Please don’t tell me people are this stupid.”

  I clasp a hand on his shoulder. “Welcome back to your little slice of reality.” He groans in disapproval, placing it back on one of the shelves with the hundred other designs of glasses, and walks off.

  Marty took us to Old Faithful, and Mama wanted to go to the gift shop to buy us both something to remember our trip. She’s having the time of her life right now. I’ve never heard her laugh so much, and it seems like it’s been a lifetime since I’ve seen her really smile since I moved to New York. Marty beams each time she chuckles, and it warms my heart.

  This is how it was always supposed to be.

  Not Marty going off to the Marines because Mama lost her health insurance or me almost marrying Grant. It was always supposed to be this small family; us loving each other and doing silly things, going on trips and making the best of the moments we have together.

  Moving back to let two small kids walk through the narrow aisle, I bump into another body.

  “I’m sorry.” Before I can even pivot around to acknowledge the person, they lean closer to my ear with their chest pressed into my back.

  “Follow me, Miss Shelton.”

  My body doesn’t function at his voice. I know exactly who it is, but there’s no reason why he should be here. In Wyoming, at Yellowstone National Park, the president doesn’t visit these places unless there is an imperative disaster, right?

  My eyes flick to Marty and Mama looking at colorful rocks. Marty is wrinkling his nose, probably because of the price, and Mama lightly elbows him in the stomach.

  Turning to the sound of the voice, I catch his back. Wearing a brown leather coat and jeans with a blue baseball cap on. His typical “in the streets” look.

  Hesitantly, I follow him, watching him go towards a dark hallway where one of his suits stand out to me like a sore thumb. Mainly because he doesn’t acknowledge me approaching, and he looks like he smashes rocks with his hands for fun.

  Wade’s shadow stands in the middle of the darkened hall, before he opens a door and steps inside for me to pursue him. The moment I’m inside, I realize we’re in a small storage closet where the extra souvenirs are kept, and he waits for me to fully emerge inside before closing the door.

  “What’s going on?” I ask before he turns to face me. His eyes are what I notice first; tired, puffy, and exasperated. “Are you okay? I got a call from—”

  “Thank you for following me,” he replies. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t absolutely need to be.” He inches closer, stealing my next exhale. His cologne wafts around me, melting me into one of the shelves I’m currently leaning against.

  “Okay,” I deadpan.

  “Demi knows where you live now and about your business—” He holds up a hand when my mouth opens. “—she knows nothing about us. She knows that there is someone, but I’m going to let Indie take that fall.”

  My brows knit. “What? You can’t—”

  “It’s not your decision,” he dismisses flatly. “Nothing major can happen to her.”

  Um, does he not remember what happened to me?

  “Emmy called me,” I vouch. “She said you’re—”

  “I heard about it. It won’t happen again.” I take an unsteady step in his direction, wanting to wrap my arms around him and promise things will be okay. That I’ll be here.

  However, I believe there is so much I don’t know. That I can’t do. And I won’t swear to anything when I can’t control it.

  “You can’t let that poor woman bear the weight of all of that,” I retort. “You don’t understand how much it effects—”

  “I have a pretty good idea.”

  “Stop interrupting me. You saw what happened. But let me assure you, it’s not fun.”

  “What I can tell you—” His face darkens in the limited light that’s attempting with all its forty watts to light up the space. “—is that it’s not going to happen to you...again.”

  My heart swells, but I ignore it. Indie may have had what I left behind and slapped me in the face, more than likely because Wade ratted us out, but she doesn’t know what sort of hurricane Demi can produce when the bitch puts her mind to it. It’s not calming or reassuring in the least.

  “I can handle my mistakes.”

  Wade’s jaw tightens, but he yanks his eyes from mine. “I have men that will be overlooking your safety as well as your mother and brother when everything materializes to the public. She’s going to lose her shit and is already involved with the wrong crew. I just need you safe so I can sleep better at night knowing that.”

  “You should’ve had Emmy tell me all of this. I—” His blues hit me.

  “I heard she had a lovely conversation with your brother. So, no, this couldn’t be a conversation between you and Em, nor was I going to text you all this information for it to be found. I’m not supposed to be here, and I have to catch my flight back.”

  “Did you lose Chase’s number?” My back slams into one of the shelves behind me, the souvenirs rattling, threatening to fall, but nothing does. I didn’t mean for it to be a petty comeback, but, I mean, it would’ve worked. Not him taking the chance of Demi finding out where he was, which would domino right to me.

  “This isn’t a game, Sox,” he sneers, gripping onto my biceps. “We both know what
happened before.”

  “Of course I do, my mother almost died. I became the whore of—”

  “Fully aware and didn’t ask for the recap of the last year.” He reaches behind his jacket and pulls something out. A Glock lies within the palm of his hand, and I subconsciously take a step back just to get nowhere. “Use this if someone tries some shit.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “Are you insane?”

  “I need you safe,” he repeats. “This will keep you safe. It’s already registered in your name and—”

  “Great, so they can trace the bullets back to me if I have to pop a cap in someone’s ass? No, thanks.”

  “Take the fucking gun, Reagan,” he chides. “I’m not fucking around this time.”

  “I wasn’t fucking around the first time.”

  “Always with the mouth,” he gripes with a small shake of his head. “I have something else you can do with it if you’re looking to work it out, Miss Shelton. I’m not in the mood, and I have a lot of built-up aggression, so try me. I’m begging you.”

  My lips part, which catches his attention. My chest heaves, lifting my breasts, which gains his gaze next.

  I’m begging you.

  Yeah...

  “I don’t do guns,” I mutter. “I don’t like them.”

  “And you won’t like me fucking you while children are around to ask their parents about the noises you’ll be making. Take the gun.”

  “I—”

  “It’s not loaded.” He pulls a clip from his back pocket. “You know how?” I nod before the crook of his index finger grazes underneath my chin.

  The sadness in his eyes makes my stomach kink in knots. I’m looking up at a man who’s about to go to war, and I’m his biggest liability.

  And he’s mine.

  I have a feeling we would burn the world down for each other. Our deadly romance would wreak havoc on innocent people, but we’d still do it because it’s the passion and captivation that laces into our veins for each other.

  We’re not Romeo and Juliet by any means, we’re worse. We’ll affect a whole country and millions of people, not just Mama and Marty. Our names would go down in history as a love affair that was inappropriate and traitorous in a way to the sanctity of marriage.