DECEIT (B723)

by Hazel Grace

  Now I have to not only deal with Emmy’s death and deception but murdering my brother.

  Who the fuck knew that B723 would have so much drama within it?

  “You can’t do it,” Mills emits, eyeing my brown leather bag. “You can’t leave those kids without a parent.”

  “They’ll be fine. Marty did it.”

  “Marty is fucked up,” he snaps through knitted brows. No matter how he transforms his face, I can’t erase how Emmy or any woman would be attracted to his boyish charm. It makes me want to fuck his face up.

  And maybe he’s right.

  Marty’s whole family was murdered in a night air raid by some small country bordering Russia or some shit.

  I mean, he’d have to be some sort of fucked up to be part of B723. We all are in some capacity—big or small.

  Dropping my bag, I fish out my lighter fluid, bow and arrow, and six-inch blade. I also pull out a cigarette and put it between my lips.

  “She’ll never forgive you.” I snort, shoving my anguish aside because it doesn’t belong in this situation. It belongs in the ground with this fuck. “She named her son after you.”

  My focus snaps to him, one of my brows lifting in question. “You didn’t agree?”

  Mills rolls his eyes. “Emmy gets what she wants.”

  “Yeah—“ I flick my zippo. ”—and you got her.”

  “Those kids don’t deserve you screwing them up because you’re pissed, and your pride is cracked.” I ignore him, dowsing the end of one of my arrows with lighter fluid as I inhale on my smoke. “Bishop, this is bullshit. Grow the hell up. Emmy will haunt you. You’re going to kill off the only parent those babies have? She’ll never forgive you. She’ll—“

  “She’s fucking dead,” I roar, my teeth digging into my filter. “Fuck what she wants or feels. She lied.”

  “She—“

  “Gib Laut.”

  Speak.

  Armageddon barks loudly and Mills snaps his focus back to my dog, uncertain of what the hell I just said but it gets him to shut the hell up.

  Using my lighter to ignite the tip of my arrow, I arrange my bow and insert it.

  Mills watches me before his Glock appears in his hand, cocking the hammer back and aims it at my dog.

  He doesn’t have the fucking balls.

  Aiming, the flames dance along the end and Mills holds my stare.

  “I’ll shoot this fucking dog,” Mills warns.

  “Bet.” I release the cord, sending the arrow on its way and through Mills’s forearm. He immediately drops the gun and clamps his teeth together, leaning up against the tree trunk for support.

  “You’re a fucking asshole, man,” he sneers.

  “Mhm.” Can’t argue with him there, nor can I blame him for the way I am either.

  But the way I’m feeling, that’s all him. Insecure in my own emotions and feelings. Vulnerable when the woman I loved held me in the palm of her hand and crushed me in the same one.

  “I’m not going to make this easy.”

  I nod, plucking my cigarette out of my mouth. “I know.”

  “You’re going to have to live with this.”

  I’m aware of that too.

  God only knows what would’ve been different if I had just told Emmy what I needed her to stop fucking doing and how much I adored her.

  And I never stopped.

  Grabbing another arrow, Mills takes off out of the corner of my eye. I never expected him to accept it like a man and wait for me to take his ass out.

  That would be asinine.

  He might have a small chance of making it out alive, but he’d be an idiot not to try.

  I disregard the lighter fluid, running with a flame isn’t going to work out the way I want, and I can use it fucking later when I tie him up in the back of my truck. If he thinks I’m going to take him out in the middle of the woods, he’s wrong.

  Armageddon faithfully follows me as I see the blue of Mills’s shirt about thirty yards away.

  I haul back on my cord, aiming down with one eye when the piercing of wood breaks off the tree a few feet from me.

  A bullet.

  I round the nearest one and hunch down, taking cover and waiting for any snapping of sticks or foreign noises.

  I hear it, and now I’m intrigued.

  Maybe Mills wasn’t on the phone with anyone on B723 because if he had, my cell would be going off the hook right now.

  With my hand, I gesture Armeggedon to lie down so I can focus on who’s out here with me trying to save Prince Charming.

  I pull back on my arrow and peek around to see if I can locate anyone.

  “Not looking to hurt you, friend,” a male voice reassures me. “Just need to make sure he has a head start.”

  Who in the fuck is this?

  The voice doesn’t sound familiar, and I highly doubt some random asshole came in after us with a gun and a good shot.

  Unless he didn’t miss on purpose.

  Rising with the cover of the tree still, I begin to lean over, but another bullet hits the trunk right next to where my head would’ve been.

  “Stay right there,” he orders.

  Um, yeah, no.

  I come out from my forest shield and locate a dude about as tall as me with a buzz cut and dark facial hair. His steroid-out muscles protrude from his black t-shirt as he stands there as if he’s waiting for me. No longer is his gun aimed, and he regards me with curiosity.

  “You’re the big bad wolf, huh?” I perk a brow because, again, who the fuck is this? He glances down at his wrist that has a watch wrapped around it. “You’re only stuck with me for about forty-five more seconds, chief.”

  “Call me one more fucking name, ass clown, and you’re going to know what it feels like to have your heart pierced.”

  He smirks. “Charming.”

  Yeah, fuck this asshole.

  As I’ve done a million other times in a hasty scenario, I raise my weapon and shoot, watching it pierce through his thigh.

  He only looks d own at it. “And a dickhead.”

  “Who are you?” I pull my Glock out, ready to end this shithead and figure out what and how I’m going to get Mills alone again.

  “Doesn’t matter,” he deadpans.

  Hoisting my gun, he does the same, and I haul on the trigger, moving to the side to not get hit by his.

  I see him flinch back, alluding that he’s been hit again as he blows off three shots and begins to retreat.

  I return my whole clip, frustrated and devastated when I hear Armageddon whine.

  Looking over my shoulder, he’s down, blood soaking his fur, and all my concentration on the intruder is gone.

  All my attention is now on him, giving the stranger his lucky day of me not chasing after him.

  Another one to the list.

  “Why didn’t you have me shoot him again?” I give Kai a side-eye as he sits at my kitchen table, waiting for me to clean the rest of his wounds. “Dude is kind of a dick.”

  “I didn’t tell you to have a conversation with him,” I retort, bringing over my First Aid kit. “Just to make sure he didn’t kill my friend.”

  “Which included being the decoy.”

  He isn’t wrong, but then again, he could’ve stayed out of sight too.

  I called him up, knowing he’d make it to Mills quicker than I would and that he was capable of taking care of himself and what I needed.

  Kai’s hand reaches up to my hair, playing with the medium-brown strands for a quick second while I hold gauze to his wound. “You don’t make a bad brunette. Makes you look darker.”

  I sniff, “Darker?”

  “Yeah.” His dark green eyes stare down at me, soaking me in as I continue to ignore him. His intense gawking makes me squirm a little, and I’m blaming it on the limited human interaction I’ve had recently. “You’re beautiful either way, but…you’d make a very good bad girl, Emmy.”

  “Shush.” I place a piece of gauze down and it immediately soaks
up the blood. “You need stitches.”

  “Eh. I’ve had worse.” And if he’s even close to the line of work that I’m in, I’m not surprised.

  “Can you hold this?” He does and I grab the clear bottle of alcohol. “This is going to hurt like a bitch.”

  “Go ahead,” he urges, and I don’t hesitate, seeing him flinch a little as I pour it over his leg. I’ll clean up the mess I’m making later. “Why did you dye your hair?”

  “If you keep jabbering, you might bleed to death.”

  He chuckles. “Then will you finally kiss me, Ems?” I deliver a glare which only makes him laugh harder.

  Kai and I met a few years back on one of my missions. Apparently, we were going after the same guy, ran into each other, and he told me he’d blow my entire cover (which was already fucked since he screwed me up) if I didn’t go grab coffee with him.

  I have no clue who he works for and vice versa. We spoke about normal things and, if the situation calls for it, a solid from the other.

  Now I owe him again, even though the one I did for him four years ago was just getting an ex-girlfriend off his ass. Kai doesn’t pry, and I didn’t ask what his ex had done and why he couldn’t get her off his tail.

  The bare minimum is what we both are comfortable with and it works. The less he knows about how much of a shit show I am and that he might deserve being stalked for giving the wrong message is lost on the both of us.

  We just enjoy each others’ company, and we’ll hear from the other in a few months to a year unless something comes up.

  “You need to put me out of my misery, doll.” I press harder on his wound, but he doesn’t recoil. “You single?”

  “Nope.”

  His broad back hits my chair. “I think about you from time to time, and you’re like a fleeting ship in the wind for me. A lost cause or moment that I could’ve caught but—“

  “Shut up. No one asked you to expose your feelings like we’re lost lovers in the night.”

  “Just facts.”

  I don’t answer him because I’ll never date again. Shit is too much hassle and not worth it in the end.

  “You know what’s annoying—” He leans toward me. “—being shot and not getting a sorry.”

  “I said sorry.” Kai’s hand wraps around my forearm and tugs, plopping me in his lap. “Kai! Your leg!”

  “If you were really sorry—“ He tightens his hold now around my waist. “—you’d at least kiss my cheek and pat my head when you send me on my way out.”

  “Dude, I just bandaged your—“

  “Are you listening?”

  “Are you leaving right this second?” I snap.

  He nods. “I gotta head to Santa Monica. You called when I was on my way.”

  “Oh, shit. I’m sorry, I’ll reimburse you for—“

  “I didn’t pay for the ticket, sweetheart. But I’ll forgive you if you—“

  “Kiss me,” I finish for him. “Really? This pushy shit isn’t cute. Let me go, or I’m going to push my thumb in your gun wound.”

  Kai remains unfazed at my threat. “I might need a bombshell at my side soon. I’m working on something, and I may require your sexiness in a dress and extremely high heels.”

  “Done.” I raise a brow. “Can I get up now?”

  He releases me and I have to redo his whole bandage again. My cell rings, and I pick up without looking.

  “Hello?”

  “He’s fine,” Lucien says on the other line. “Pissed…but fine.”

  I release a heavy exhale. “Thank fuck.”

  “No major damage, he should fully recover.”

  I turn my back on Kai and begin to stride for my room. “About that…” I lower my voice. “I might need you on standby.”

  “Don’t you think this has gone on long enough?”

  “Not until he’s dead.”

  “Emmy, Bishop is not doing well.”

  I shake my head as if I can keep his words away from me. “I know.”

  “I’m not going to ask you anything about what you’re doing but….your real baby daddy is pushing for another DNA test. I think we’re over our heads here.”

  “I know.”

  “You’ll talk to Kyson?” Then he quickly catches himself. “Fuck, you can’t.”

  “Mills will.”

  “Also, I’ve received a court order too for your children’s DNA results. Alexander is making his move.”

  My eyes snap shut on their own. “Okay, I’ll…get on it.”

  “Judge Collins,” he tells me. “He’s a patient of one of my associates. I can see if he has an appointment coming up. He’s the judge who signed the court order.”

  “That’d be great. Thank you.”

  “Let me know if you need anything else. And keep the blood out of it.” I salute him with two fingers, and he hangs up, aware that there isn’t much I can do but come clean to everyone.

  Thing is, if Alexander knows I’m alive, it’s not going to be good.

  For either of us.

  With a glass full of whiskey and a perfect view of Mills, I glare at him while Kyson bitches at me to behave. It’s Marty’s birthday, and Reagan and Stormi have spent days allegedly making it perfect.

  I don’t care.

  Mills is still alive—that’s all I give a shit about.

  And he should be dead, cleaned out, and buried by now.

  I watch Reagan coo over one of the babies, tucking her raven hair back to get a better look at them. Blue stands close by, holding the other and this is fucked up and not right.

  “You got me?” Kyson presses, propping his elbow on the table next to me. “I don’t want to hear about this shit again.”

  I’m assuming he’s talking about Mills still and my first attempt to kill him.

  And I’d inquire on what the hell he’s going to do about it but I’ll have to have the same conversation with him in a few days when I try for round number two on my ex-teammate.

  However, right now, I’m interested in Blue and her subtle change in hobbies.

  Rising from my chair, I hear my best friend ask two or three more questions but I’m far past zoning him out.

  His redheaded ass can wait.

  The other redhead, the one who disappears and comes back without any recourse…something is going on.

  Blue is the secretive member that no one bothers to crack—the outsider. And she’s the one I want to nab up before she flees in the dark again.

  Her moss green eyes latch onto me the moment she senses immediate peril—me—and she turns to meet me head-on.

  Blue has more balls than most of the guys in the Marines. I don’t know her backstory, never cared to discover or inquire about it, but she’s either stupidly foolish or clearly doesn’t give a shit if today’s her last day.

  “Well, if it isn’t the Prodigal Son?” Slowly, she raises a brow, silently asking me what the fuck I want. “You should have your ass beat.”

  I bring my glass up to my lips and shrug. “You wanna be the first?”

  “Nah.” I watch her over the rim as the liquid warms the back of my throat. “I wanna be the last. You’ll remember it longer.”

  A smirk creeps up my face. “At least I’m true to my intentions instead of being a poser.”

  “A what?”

  “Poser.”

  Recognition begins to dawn on her face, and she nods. “I’m a fake because I like babies?” She squints at me, covering up whatever bullshit lie she’s hiding.

  You see, Emmy used to do the same shit.

  She’d try to distract me by biting down on her full bottom lip and fib her big ass right out of my prying.

  And, yeah, I’d get absent-minded and forget what the hell I was even talking about. My cock would take over all question-asking, and sometimes it’d be days until I remembered that she never did answer the question in the first place.

  That’s what Emmy was.

  A deep-rooted and alluring creature who owned me. I was Emmy’s,
and I’ve never been anyone else’s.

  Not fully.

  I will never belong to another human being, and I’ve got way too much time—the rest of my life—to feel the loss of Emmy.

  “Nah.” I step forward, towering over her scent of watermelon, long lashes, and faint freckles. “You’re one because this isn’t your thing. Your style.” I cock my head to the side. “So why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

  One of the babies, the one she’s closest by begins to fuss, and she promptly turns to pick it up. The little thing is wrapped in a purple blanket and when I expect her to talk to it or calm it down, she does the furthest thing I’d ever want her ass to do.

  “Here—” She gently shoves the baby into my chest, forcing me to take it or let it be dropped on its head. “—watch her for me.”

  “Her?” My palm finds the back of its skull on instinct and big, dark blue eyes locate mine.

  “Atlas,” Blue says while I’m being exorcised by a small little bundle of curls. She grunts and sucks on the pink thing in her mouth. “Emmy’s daughter, Bishop. Keep up.”

  Right.

  The reason why everything feels worse and empty in my life. When it’s late, and I can’t sleep, I feel as though one more secret that comes forth is going to break me.

  Emmy’s daughter.

  “I just need to warm up the formula. Can you fucking watch her for me, or are you going to plan another assassination on a two-month-old?”

  Slowly I shake my head, apparently brain-dead or stricken with a swift stroke, I’m not sure.

  Blue steps closer, positioning Atlas so that she’s lying within the crook of my arm and in the perfect position to suck the soul and hate out of me with her eyes.

  “Be right back.”

  Atlas keeps sucking on her pink rubber thing, and I can see her little gums moving around it as she continues to just stare.

  And me, I have nothing to say.

  This is Emmy’s fucking daughter.

  My girl is in this tiny human being.

  She was inside her growing and listening to her voice. She was with her when Emmy was giving birth, unconscious from what I somewhat gathered.

  A little girl who would never fully know how amazing her mother was. But every time she looked in the mirror I hope she felt her.