DECEIT (B723)

by Hazel Grace

  “It’s you,” the voice above me emits, and it takes only but another quick instant for me to register it with my ears then my eyes.

  Bishop.

  His crystal blues are tightened so much that I can barely see them within the shadows of his long hair. The smell of him wraps around me, creating my body to forsake me into being on my guard and melts with him into the floor.

  Bishop leans forward, keeping the full amount of his two hundred plus pounds on me and not giving a shit that I’m having a hard time breathing in gulps like a fish out of water.

  This was a ploy.

  A fucking setup.

  And my brain goes right back to Blue.

  “Do you know what you’ve done?” he leers in my face, tightening his hold around my face. “Do you have any idea?”

  “I—“

  “Shut the fuck up,” he roars through clenched teeth. A bit of his saliva hits my upper lip but I dare not wipe it away. I’ve seen Bishop furious and livid, however, this is next-level shit.

  I feel the slight trembling of his hand against my face as he stares at me like I’m going to disappear from his vision.

  My eyes burn from the tears at pain that I’ve caused him.

  I’m sorry but he doesn’t want to hear that right now. He wants to bitch and yell at me. He wants to hurt me. He wants to inflict every discomfort he felt and has ever felt with me.

  “I hope you had fun,” he growls out. “Because I’m about to start mine right now.”

  My brows furrow and that’s when he abruptly releases my face, rises to his feet, and hauls me up by my shirt.

  With a steel grip, he drags me down the hall to Mills’s place and shoves open the door, sending me stumbling in afterward.

  My gaze immediately falls on Mills handcuffed to one of his dining room chairs with a dishcloth placed in his mouth.

  The door slams shut behind us, startling me before Bishop pushes me forward like I’m a no one.

  Like I’m one of his victims.

  “Now that we have the gang all here,” Bishop announces, rounding my body to stride to Mills. “You can watch me kill your lover.”

  “Stop,” I chide. “You’re not going to kill anyone.”

  Bishop stops just short of Mills’s body and glances over his shoulder to look at me. “No?”

  He cocks his arm back and doesn’t even bother making sure he doesn’t miss because he’s that sure he won’t.

  And he doesn’t.

  He hits Mills square in the face and sends his body careening over a tad.

  “Bishop,” I leer. “Stop. This isn’t what it looks like. Listen to me and—“

  “I did listen,” he retorts, turning around to give me the full effect of his broad frame. “I listened to this motherfucker tell me that you both fucked and had twins. I also got the news that you named one after me. I also noticed that, with the timing of how long you have to be pregnant, that you were fucking me, Alexander, and Mills.” He begins for me but stops within two steps. “You should’ve told me your sexual appetite wasn’t satisfied, Emmy, I would’ve worked harder.”

  “Mills is not the father of my fucking kids,” I snap. “He was covering for me.”

  Bishop lifts a curious brow. “Was he? Do I look like I give a shit?”

  “Are you hard of hearing? I just said he’s not the dad.”

  My husband shakes his head, closing the rest of the gap between us. “That’s not what I wanted to hear, baby.”

  “Then what? What do you want, Bish? I told you that he has nothing to do with the kids.”

  He bows, making me step backward to allow myself the space I need to think clearly. A ripple of goosebumps claims my skin and I can’t hide the shutter that frays through my body. “I want to know if you fucked him or not.”

  “No—“ I shake my head violently back and forth. “—of course not.”

  Bishop holds my gaze for only a second longer before he pivots and marches back to Mills. I release my held inhale right before my husband swings on Mills again.

  “Stop!” I exclaim through my best friend’s groan. “Bish, please—“

  “Shut up, Ems,” Bishop warns with his back to me, reaching behind him to retrieve a knife out of his jean pocket.

  I hear it snap open, the distinct sound I’ve made a hundred times myself.

  Mills warned me and I didn’t listen.

  He told me that this wasn’t a good idea and to keep B723 involved but I wanted my way and only my way to play out.

  And now we’re here.

  “Don’t hit him again, you—“ Bishop does it anyway and I rush him only to have a strong arm wrapped around my waist.

  Thrusting my elbow back, I connect with a hard body and use all my weight to get them to drop me but the grip doesn’t loosen.

  I’m promptly dropped on my feet and spun around to find Marty standing over me with a scowl deeper than any body of water.

  His hazel eyes burrow into me, searching for answers that I can verbally give him, but he doesn’t want me to speak, just like Bishop.

  No, it’ll only piss him off more. It’ll only cause my voice to literally make all this real.

  I lied.

  I faked my death.

  I didn’t tell the people I loved that I needed help.

  I was so blinded and scared of Alexander and what was going to happen with the twins that I reacted and didn’t listen to Mills—several times.

  “You fucked up,” he reprimands out loud as if he’s confirming everything going through my head.

  “I know.” I open my mouth to continue but it locks so that the sob that wants to break free from my throat can’t leave. I have no one to blame but myself here. And I just took Mills down with me. “Marty…”

  He wags his head back and forth. “I mourned you. I lost my Ems.”

  “I’m so—“ Mills’s heavy grunt interrupts my thought as I pivot around to find Bishop leaning over my best friend, and enough is enough. I move when Marty’s hand grasps my bicep and I snatch it away. “Don’t fucking touch me.” With Bishop’s back to me, I lightly tap on his shoulder. He turns, glowers at me again as if I’m ruining his fun. “If you wanna know everything, untie him or I won’t say shit.”

  “Then he’s dead,” he quickly counters back.

  “Marty.” My voice changes into ice as if I don’t miss my friends. “Do you follow his sentiment?”

  “He lied, Emmy.”

  “Do both of you fuckheads remember that I’m the one who faked my own death?”

  “And he helped.” Bishop advances closer and I immediately counter. “I know it’s hard to say no to you…but this affected all of us.”

  Lifting my chin, I force my features to stay stale. “Do you wanna know the story of why or not?”

  Bishop stares at me, long and hard, before I feel Marty at my side.

  It doesn’t deter either of us from breaking our concentration on each other. The silent challenge that we’ve ensued. We’re poison and stubborn together, but when we work along each others’ side, we’re unstoppable.

  “Fine.” I pull out my cell phone and deal the only card I have left to play.

  The most rational one of all—Kyson.

  Marty and Bishop together are the fuse and explosive.

  “Hello?”

  “Kyson—“ Bishop snatches the cell out of my hands and tosses it to Marty before his hand rakes through my hair and yanks, hard.

  “If you’re so impatient of what I have planned for you, Emmy Lou, all you had to say was ‘me next’.”

  “You can punish and bitch at me all you want,” I offer. “But I’m trained for torture…all kinds.” Bishop’s eyes glaze over in a mixture of something that passes too quickly to nail so I continue. “Let him go…you get what you need.”

  “I’m not done with him yet,” he stresses, pulling on my hair harder to the point where he’s going to have strands between his fingers.

  “He hits like a bitch, Lou Boo,” Mi
lls interjects to keep his pride and manly bullshit intact. “Don’t worry about me.”

  Oh, but I am.

  Very much so.

  “I didn’t fuck him,” I say as calmly as I can, noticing that Bishop isn’t holding his knife anymore. “He’s my best friend. He covered for me after explaining that he didn’t want to do it over and over again. I brought him into this situation. And he was faithful to me.”

  Bishop’s jaw ticks once before he abruptly releases his hold on me.

  “He’s pissed,” Marty claims at our side then not bothering to hand my phone back to me.

  “Does he know everything?” Bishop asks.

  “Yeah, he’s on his way over. Let dickhead go, we’ll deal with him later as a group. Ky might want to take a few hits on him afterward.”

  Bishop jerks his head. “Go ahead.”

  Marty goes to release my best friend, and I take a wide and deliberate step back from my husband. He watches me as I hear the clink of cuffs begin to be severed from the locks.

  I have so much ass-kissing and payback to do with Mills it’ll take me a lifetime to make it up to him. But he’s worth it for what he did for me.

  “Where are my kids?” I ask Bishop, clutching my hands at my sides.

  “Sleeping.”

  I see movement from behind him and Mills rubs at his wrists, his gray eyes latching onto mine but they’re not as pissed as I thought they’d be. Instead, he actually looks worried.

  “You might want a drink for this,” I tell the room as Mills and I stare at each other.

  “I’m fine,” Bishop deadpans.

  Mills flicks his gaze to the rear of Bishop’s head, looking for my permission.

  He wants to punch him back.

  And fuck…I blow out a steady exhale then nod before I change my mind.

  Bishop crossed a line tonight and the day he tried to kill Mills when he didn’t know anything but that he was the alleged father of my children.

  If he would have succeeded, I would’ve lost a friend for nothing.

  Mills plows his fist somewhere into Bishop’s neck or head and my husband immediately reacts, pivoting around and swinging back.

  He must miss Mills because I see him duck and deliver another blow to Bishop’s torso.

  Two shots for two attempts of killing him.

  Gripping onto the back of Bishop’s shirt, I yank him back at the same time his elbow does. He connects with my right cheek and on instinct I release him, not expecting to get hit.

  “Fuck,” Bishop roars before spinning around and placing his hands on my biceps.

  My fingers mindlessly brush where I was hit, feeling the sharp discomfort of a bruise forming when Bishop plucks my fingers away. His thumb replacing my touch and lightly grazing down the side of my face.

  “You’re just making bad decisions left and right, woman,” he growls out before glancing at Marty. “Get him the fuck out of here before I change my mind.”

  “Fuck you,” Mills retorts behind him. “I’m not leaving her alone with your fucking psycho ass.”

  One of Bishop’s hands disappears off my face as he reaches around him and pulls out his black Glock. “She can have this.”

  “Emmy,” Mills quips. “Kick him out and we’ll…shit, I’m not leaving the building. The babies need to be fed soon.”

  My lips quirk in a weak grin that he knows and cares so much about my twins that he’ll stay in the same room with two assholes.

  I’m extremely lucky to have him. Especially when he’s been such a vital part of their lives when I couldn’t be.

  “I’ll call you when they wake up,” I tell him because I have to allow Bishop to get all his anger out so he can move on with this. “You’ll have to reintroduce me to them.”

  Mills frowns and nods. “Of course, Ems. They’ll remember you, I’m sure of it. You’re their mother.” He grabs my hand and Bishop bristles, still brushing the pending bruise on my cheek. “Tell dickhead here to hurry up. It’s past his bedtime.”

  And with that, he and Marty take off, leaving me with the biggest problem yet besides killing off my baby daddy.

  My husband.

  When I thought Emmy died, a piece of my heart did as well. I knew that life would never be the same—that I’d never be the same.

  So when I saw the taillights of a Jeep leaving my property, you can imagine the rate of my heart thudding in my chest and the impending questions that surfaced to my head.

  People drive Jeeps; my ex-wife is not the only one.

  However, the notion that none of anything made sense—Mills carrying me out of Alexander’s penthouse alone, the man who randomly showed up in the woods when I attempted to kill Mills, and the slaughter that Blue claims she did all on her own…shit didn’t add up.

  Actually, it wasn’t all that logical.

  Unless I had a guardian angel that decided to fly down from heaven to be at my side at all times, my reality wasn’t what people were claiming it to be that were around me.

  And that said angel, I’m betting she had blonde hair and honey-brown eyes.

  Except the woman in front of me has chopped her hair off and turned it brown. Her lips are still pink and full, her little button nose still points at me, and the way she peers up at me has my cock responding as it always does.

  This woman, whom I’ve tackled unapologetically, is Emmy Lou Rhodes.

  And I still can’t fucking believe I’m looking at her right now.

  “You have a lot of explaining to do,” I declare through clenched teeth as soon as Mills’s door clicks shut behind them. “And I’m so fucking pissed right now.”

  “I know.” She takes my hand that’s still stroking the spot that I accidentally hit and pulls it away.

  It instantly pisses me off.

  It actually makes me snap.

  Tearing my hand from hers, mine wraps around her throat as I push her backward until she’s pinned between me and the wall.

  I want to crush her until she’s dust.

  I crave to hurt her as she did me so much worse than Camilla ever did. The pain I felt from the loss of Emmy will never compare to anything else I’ve ever felt in my life.

  I can’t forgive her for this.

  Especially when there are so many unexplained answers to questions that I can’t find now except for why—why did she do this to me?

  To all of us.

  Clenching my free hand, I remember that my Glock is still in my palm and that she never took it.

  She gives me too much credit.

  She believes that I care so much as to not reap revenge on her in any way I see fit for how I’m feeling.

  Lifting it, I nudge the tip of her jaw with the barrel. “How long were you going to make us all suffer, Emmy?”

  She locks her pretty gaze with mine, unaffected by my action. “When Alexander was dead.”

  “And why do you wanna kill your boyfriend? Did he not make you come enough?”

  Her nostrils flare but she opens her mouth anyway. “Because…”

  “Because?” I impatiently shove the gun deeper into her flesh. “You’ve never been on this side of me before so do yourself a favor and answer my fucking question.”

  “You mean elbowing me in the face wasn’t—“ The hammer of my gun clicking back shuts her the fuck up but she doesn’t see that I don’t have my index finger on the trigger.

  No, that’s a little too risky for the game I’m playing right now.

  I haven’t passed Go yet.

  “Answer. My. Fucking. Question,” I snarl through my extremely tightened jaw.

  “That’s my business,” she replies softly. “If I tell you…you’ll take it away from me.”

  My brows knit. “Take what away from you?”

  “Killing him.”

  “Who fucking cares who kills him? He’s a rich prick who tried to have me killed by his goons.”

  “I know…I was there.”

  I fucking knew it.

  “How?” My
body presses firmer into hers, needing to know every response because I have to have all this make sense. “How did you know, Emmy?”

  “I was there, at Alexander’s penthouse when you were. I hid in the closet. I bugged his place after I…” She takes a breath before saying, “Before I nailed you all with a tranquilizer gun. I called Mills, we carried you out and into his car. I covered my tracks and hooked his cell and house up to my laptop. I got home and he had already begun planning how he wanted you out. So, Blue and I took care of it.”

  “You didn’t park far enough down the road.”

  She nods, clearly understanding how I got us to where we are. “Figures.”

  I allow my gun to skate up her cheek and stop at her temple. “Why did you start this?”

  “You have to promise—“

  “I don’t have to promise you shit,” I storm out, spit hitting her face and her features blurring in my vision. “I don’t have to do anything you ask of me. I don’t want to do anything for you anymore. Do you fucking hear me? We’re done. I can’t trust you anymore.”

  The soft sweep of Emmy’s exhales touches my lips and my body settles. It thaws and strides to hold still to the raging emotions that course through my veins.

  We’ll never be the same after this.

  I can’t depend or even look at her anymore without remembering this.

  What she did and how I felt afterward.

  How I just wanted to die all the time.

  When I couldn’t sleep because she was in my nightmares and dreams with my being the one who didn’t save her.

  She was supposed to save me.

  I put her on a pedestal—right or wrong, I did—and she failed me. I won’t let her in again, and I sure as hell won’t be open to her. Obviously I did the right thing by keeping my feelings to my fucking self.

  “I know you hate me,” she mutters calmly. “That I put you through hell.”

  “I more than hate you.” The metal between us digs deeper into her head. “ I honestly despise the very sight of you.” Emmy averts his gaze, turning her head to look at something else in the room. My gun lands on the back of her head and I can’t stand seeing it there as if I’m going to execute her from behind. “Look at me.”