Determined to ensure Remy wasn’t one of them, hot adrenaline pumped through Asher’s veins as he charged forward, the crowd in the pews a blur around him. Damon went to take a step back, but Asher was there a second later, grabbing him by the arms and taking him down swiftly to the ground.
“Asher!” Remy bellowed. “What are you doing?”
“Saving you from this fucker.” Asher dug his knee into Damon’s back while he reached for his cuffs. As he grabbed Damon’s wrist, he snarled, “You want to tell her the truth. Or am I going to do it?”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Damon snapped. “Get him off me.”
Around Asher, and in the deep silence of the church, he felt the weight of everyone’s gaze. After he got on the second cuff, he glanced back over his shoulder, finding Boone frowning and Rhett grinning from ear to ear. With a moment to breathe, Asher cursed softly. Perhaps he hadn’t handled this well, but he wouldn’t apologize for shit. He blew out a slow breath to steady himself and then rose, bringing Damon to his feet.
Rhett grasped Damon’s arm, pulling him back away from Remy. “And here I thought I was the one who always fucked up,” he said quietly to Asher. “Good luck dancing your way out of this.”
Next to him, Boone cringed, staring over Asher’s shoulder.
Fuck. Asher knew he had to face the inevitable, so he turned around. Tears flooded Remy’s pale face. Beside her, her bridesmaids—the blond-haired woman was Boone’s fiancée, Peyton, and the dark-haired one glaring was Boone’s sister, Kinsley. They were both wearing light purple dresses and holding Remy’s hands tight.
“You better explain yourself, and pronto, buddy,” Kinsley spat.
Peyton looked from Asher to Boone rapidly, her hazel eyes unable to find whatever they were looking for. Probably an explanation.
Asher’s heartrate began to slow. He took in the minister, Remy’s coworkers and friends in the pews. Shit.
“Asher,” Remy snapped.
He turned back, finding a thousand questions in Remy’s pretty green eyes. While he wanted to give her all the answers she needed, this was also his chance to fix the past. Asher’s leaving her was part of the reason she’d given up on all her dreams, and nearly married a con man. She’d lost everything, all because he was a stupid kid full of fear and despair.
He wasn’t that kid anymore.
Though the truth remained as it had all those years ago. Asher couldn’t give her his heart. Remy was safer and would be happier without him. But he had this one chance to right his wrongs and set her life back on the right track. No missteps this time. “We don’t have to do this here.”
She dropped Kinsley’s and Peyton’s hands and stepped forward. “Tell me. Now.”
To keep the conversation private, Asher sighed and closed the distance, becoming more aware of her trembling body. His fingers twitched to grab her, bring her close, and keep her safe until she remembered all the things she once wanted for herself. “This man isn’t Damon Lane,” he explained gently. “His name is Kyle Fanning. He’s a con man who has swindled more than three million out of his past three wives, all under different aliases.”
Before Remy could even respond, Kinsley lurched at Damon. “You motherfucker.”
Gasps came from the pews as Boone caught his sister by the waist, holding her back while Kinsley did her best to murder Damon with her bare hands. Kinsley and Remy had been best friends since they were both ankle biters, and Kinsley had distrusted Damon as much as Asher had.
The minister’s skin had turned ashen at some point, and he raised his hands to the crowd. “Please, everyone, let’s calm down.”
Remy slowly stepped closer to Damon. “This can’t be true. Damon, tell me this isn’t true.”
Asher glanced back and found the bastard’s head hanging, shoulders slumped.
“You were only after my inheritance,” Remy squeaked, tears welling in her eyes.
Asher ground his teeth against the pain in her expression and reached for her, desperate to take her away from all this shit. “I’m so sorry, Remy.”
She blinked, wobbling slightly. “Don’t be sorry,” she said to Asher without looking at him. Her gaze wasn’t focused on anything specific, so far away from there. “I’m sorry for all this. I’m sorry I believed that you loved me,” she said to Damon, and then she glanced over the crowd behind Asher in the pews. “Most of all, I’m sorry I wasted all your time today.” She took one final look at Asher, her heartbreak seeping into the air between them, and then she grabbed the hem of her dress and ran down the aisle.
Asher cursed and chased after her, meeting her by the big oak tree outside. He grabbed her arm. “Remy.”
She whirled around, tears flooding her face. “Why did it have to be you? Boone or Rhett could have stopped the wedding, why did it have to be you?”
Asher released her arm slowly. “Because this is what I do.”
“Hurt me?”
The bitterness in her voice took his breath away. And yet, he deserved her wrath. “No, Remy,” he countered gently, “I protect you.” He took a step forward.
She shook her head, stepping back. “Just don’t. Stay away from me. Just leave me alone!” Her dress rustled and brushed across his legs as she ran away.
It occurred to him then that even though he knew he did the right thing by stopping the wedding today, he’d forever be remembered as the guy who broke her heart, not once, but twice.
Chapter 2
“You can’t hide in your wedding dress forever.”
“Watch me,” Remy called to Kinsley from beneath her blanket on her queen-size bed. They were best friends, but not even Kinsley could get her out of where she’d been hiding all morning. The sunlight shone through the thin sheet, promising a gorgeous day. There was nothing beautiful about it, and Remy wouldn’t be fooled.
Life sucked.
And she wasn’t just wallowing in finding out her fiancé was trying to con her out of her inheritance, even if her heart currently felt like Damon had put it through a cheese grater. First of all, she thought she’d wake up this morning married to a man who was as close to perfect as he could get. Damon had been sweet, thoughtful, and romantic. He’d given her foot rubs without her having to ask. He’d listened to her problems and offered gentle advice. He’d even planned perfect dates. Lies! All lies!
Second, she thought she would finally put working as a bartender behind her, would finally have her inheritance to open her long-awaited shop, Black Cat’s Cauldron, a New Age witch, herbal medicine shop, mixed with some good old-fashioned voodoo, spell making, and tarot card reading. All things she’d learned from her nana, whom she’d lived with since she was six years old after her mom decided she didn’t want to be a mom anymore, and instead went on tour with her country folk band. Only days ago, Remy had figured it all out. She planned on buying the empty shop beneath her rented loft apartment. A shop that was beside Peyton’s lingerie shop, Uptown Girl, with Kinsley’s bar, Whiskey Blues, on the other side. But that dream was now gone. And so was her inheritance. Not that she blamed her nana for putting in that stipulation into her last will and testament. Her grandmother thought Remy would marry Asher. She couldn’t have anticipated that Remy would have still been single at the age of thirty.
The other—biggest—problem was Remy’s unexpected reaction to Asher objecting to the wedding. In those long seconds after he called out, her heart skipped a full beat, hoping—hell, begging—that he had come for her because he still loved her. She hated the hurt that followed when she realized that wasn’t the case. She’d spent years getting over Asher. She’d spent even more time pulling her life together after he’d left. She was supposed to be over him. Asher was behind her.
Apparently, her heart didn’t get that memo.
No wedding. No shop. Still renting. Total failure.
And now on top of all that, she felt broken. Clearly she had nothing together if she couldn’t have spotted Damon for what he was, and she obviously hadn’t
gotten Asher out of her heart.
Somewhere between waking up and when Kinsley and Peyton entered her bedroom, Remy decided to live under the blanket with her black cat, Salem, the biggest bottle of wine she could find, and a gigantic tub of cookie dough ice cream.
“What is that smell?” Kinsley asked, breaking into Remy’s thoughts with a tight voice. “Seriously, Remy, I know you believe in magic and spells and all that jazz, but your room smells like a mix between a fart and a very spicy dead thing.”
“It’s called ‘I’m fixing my wrong’ incense,” Remy said, giving Salem a scratch on the head. He sat on her chest, purring away like life was great, with his bright green eyes on hers.
“What wrong?” Peyton asked.
“Damon…or Kyle…”—Remy hesitated and then winced. “Nope, I can’t do it. I’m calling him Damon. Anyway, Damon didn’t like all the witchy stuff, so he asked me not to do anything magical at the wedding, so I didn’t.” And boy, did she regret that now. “Hell, maybe that was the first red flag. He feared all the light, that damn evil bastard.”
“I agree with the evil bastard part,” Kinsley said. “But I can do without whatever shit this is that you’re burning.”
“Touch it and lose a finger,” Remy said calmly as Salem lifted his chin for more scratchies. “I need all the help I can get. That incense will cleanse me for abandoning what my nana taught me—for abandoning magic at the wedding.”
Heavy silence filled the room. Until Peyton broke it with her sweet, soft voice. “Your mom has called a dozen times now.”
Peyton had only moved to Stoney Creek a few months ago after losing her husband in a tragic car accident. The worried tone of Peyton’s voice was endearing, really, considering only a month ago the man who’d caused her husband’s murder had set out to kill her too. All in order to take full ownership of Peyton’s husband’s multi-million-dollar real estate company. Sad as that was, Peyton found love with Kinsley’s brother, Boone, and they were engaged now, so at least there was some good in the world still.
Compared to everything Peyton had been through, Remy’s problems seemed tiny. Even if her life was less than picture-perfect, with a father she never knew and a country folk singer mother who had less money than Remy did in her bank account, Remy felt like an asshole for hiding when Peyton faced everything with strength. She lowered the sheet, meeting the gentle stares of her two closest friends. Salem rose, yawned, and dug his paws into Remy’s chest as he stretched. The strong one, Kinsley, was sitting in the chair in the corner of the room. Her long, dark brown hair was straight today, with little makeup around her blue eyes. Not like she needed any. She looked beautiful first thing in the morning. The sweet one, Peyton, stood at the end of the bed, worrying her bright pink lips, her honey-colored hair in a side braid, looking perfectly put-together in her cream-colored sundress. “If my mother is really so worried about me, she would have actually come to the wedding yesterday instead of sending me a text,” Remy pointed out. She sat up in bed against her light gray fabric headboard, sending Salem moving off, only to return a second later to curl up in her lap. “She sends a fucking text to wish me well on my wedding. Who does that?”
Peyton cringed. “Okay, you’re right, that’s shitty, but she’s calling you now. Wouldn’t talking to her help?”
“Doubtful.” While Remy mentally understood that her mother couldn’t leave the tour, her heart didn’t. Especially considering it’s not like her mother was selling out huge stadiums. Playing small gigs was worth more than coming to her daughter’s wedding, apparently. Remy knew that shouldn’t surprise her. Her mother had never been the nurturing type; that’s why her nana had raised her when Mom decided to hit the road. And thank God she had her nana, or Remy’s life would have likely been filled with drunk and stoned adults.
“All right,” Kinsley finally said, breaking the silence with a scrunched nose. “You’re burning whatever shit this is to cleanse the bad energy; what else can we do to get you out of this bed?”
Remy took in what Kinsley said and then covered her face with her hands. God, she was pathetic. Seriously, pathetic. “Wine,” she mumbled, beneath her hands. “All the wine.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Peyton said. “You need to face this.”
“Which will be much easier with wine,” Remy said, dropping her hands.
Kinsley mouth twitched as she sat down on the bed next to Remy. “Dude, we got loaded with you last night, remember?”
Yeah, Remy remembered everything. She remembered curling up in her bed, sobbing until she had no tears left. She remembered chugging the wine straight from the bottle, while Kinsley and Peyton drank from their glasses. “Yes,” Remy stated, “and we should do that again. Right now.”
Kinsley gave a knowing look and patted Remy’s leg beneath the sheet. “You can’t keep drinking this away, babe, no matter how much you want to. Peyton’s right—you’ve got to face this.” She reached out and petted Salem, who hissed at her. “All I want to do is love you,” she snapped at Salem. To Remy, she said, “And you can’t run from this. Everyone is calling to check on you.”
Peyton agreed with a nod and then, being her sweet self, she added, “Damon—and I’m on board calling him Damon because it is totally weird to call him Kyle—is at fault here.”
“Exactly,” Kinsley agreed, nodding quickly. “Once all this is said and done, you’ll see that he’s an asshole who doesn’t deserve another thought. He deserves to have his nuts squeezed in a vise or ripped from his body, but not anything else.”
Remy considered that and then gave a firm nod. “Yes, to the nuts part.” The truth was, she wasn’t only hiding from what Damon had done to her; the girls simply didn’t know that. But there wasn’t a chance in hell that she would tell either of them what her heart did when she thought Asher had come to make her his again. In fact, there would be no facing that at all since she’d decided to pretend it never actually happened.
Once, she forced her heart to forget Asher. She could do that again, as she’d forget Damon too. But she couldn’t ignore that she had embarrassed herself in front of everyone she knew. She’d been so desperate to move on, to finally get her shop, and to show Asher that she had moved on, she’d found herself a con man.
Perfect.
Remy realized that her thoughts must have showed on her face when she caught the pity in both her friends’ expressions. So she went right back under the sheet again. “Please just let me die in peace.”
Kinsley snorted. “Can’t do that, babe.”
Sure, a part of Remy wanted to stand up and fight back, be the strong woman she was. But for this one second, she wanted to do none of those things. She was so damn tired of fighting this same game to find happiness and always meeting brick wall after brick wall.
Her heart hurt. Her head hurt. Hell, everything hurt. And while the tears were dry now, her soul felt empty, exhausted.
A sudden shuffle sounded outside her makeshift tent, obviously another set of feet entering the room, and just like that, the air thickened, and the hairs on her arms rose. Great. Just what she needed. “I don’t want to see you,” she told Asher. She hated being so in tune with him, but back when they’d dated, she was convinced they’d been in love in their past lives. The tarot cards told her as much, as did her nana. But there was no denying that whenever he got close, the air became electrified. On a spiritual level, her soul knew Asher’s intimately.
“I’m not leaving until you come out of there.”
His voice, both strong and smooth, almost tripped her heart. That was if she didn’t hate him. And right now she hated all men, especially men who broke her heart. “Unless you have wine, ice cream, or an athame”—a black-handled knife used in rituals—“that is blessed in such a way that I can use it on Damon, leave me alone.”
Four feet exited the room, but not the ones Remy wanted.
Heavy weight sank the bed next to her. “Remy.”
“No,” she snapped.
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Asher’s heavy exhale filled the room before he grabbed the sheet and yanked it back as she tried desperately to hold it into place. Salem hissed and then jumped off the bed. Not a surprise. Salem only loved Remy.
“Missed you too.” He grinned at the retreating cat.
Remy became utterly lost in the view. With the sunlight beaming on his sculpted face, and with his perfect hair, perfect lips, perfect everything, Asher was a damn near god. “I want to punch you,” she told him seriously. Not for interrupting her, but for being so handsome. Men were devils.
Asher’s eyebrow lifted—his signature move. “Would that make you feel better?”
She considered it for a good few seconds. “No,” she finally admitted. Hell, she’d probably feel worse because she hated any kind of violence. Nana had raised her to walk in the path of light. Sometimes she really hated the promise that she’d made as a child to never use what she’d learned from Nana to harm. She had been taught a few spells by Nana that made people violently sick to their stomachs, but she learned those for protection, never to seek revenge.
Asher stared at her for what seemed like a lifetime, his expression unreadable before he rose and headed for the adjoining bathroom. She frowned at his back, and his great ass in his jeans, rethinking her decision not to use one of her spells. He deserved one night of pain for the pain he caused her, didn’t he? Maybe she needed to drive over to Damon at the jail and bring him a drink. What Nana didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her…
Asher disappeared into the bathroom and then she heard the water running. When he returned to her, she told him straight up, “I’m not having a bath.”
Obviously having a death wish, he stepped next to the bed, yanking the sheet off completely. “It’ll do you good.”
Wicked Sinner Page 2