The Misters: Books 1-5 Box Set

by JA Huss

  “I believe you.”

  “‘Five will never lie to us,’ Oli said. ‘And isn’t it better to have an honest enemy than a friend who lies?’ What could I say? I’d rather deal in facts any day. The lies—” He leans down to kiss my head. “I’ve had my fair share of lies from my fucking father. So yeah, the friend who lies is far worse than the enemy who tells the truth.”

  “Five won’t lie to us,” I say. “I will vouch for that. He’s not even capable, I don’t think. He’s weird. Wired all wrong. A freak in many ways, just like his father. But he’s honest. And he’s loyal. I don’t think you can ask for anything more than loyalty in this life. Love comes and goes. People change. But family is family, not through blood, but through loyalty. My dad used to tell us kids that all growing up. He’s got a circle of friends so tight, no outside force could ever break it. The strength of bonds comes from within, Five’s father, Ford, used to say. He’s kind of a nerd. And there’s this framed quote in Ford’s house back in Colorado. It says, Look out for the people who look out for you. Because in the end, they’re the only ones who matter.”

  Pax grunts, but I can feel his smile against the bare skin of my cheek.

  “So that’s what we do, right?” I turn in his lap to look at him. “Right?”

  He nods, slowly.

  “We just look out for each other whenever we can. And that includes your mom. She’s good people, Pax. And we should not doubt her until she gets her chance to tell the rest of the story.”

  “I don’t know if I want to hear it.”

  “You do,” I say, placing both my hands on his cheeks again. “You do.”

  “And what if we find out your sister is dead?” he whispers. “Will you love the truth then?”

  I slump against him, unwilling to even think about it. “I’ll deal with that when it happens.”

  We are silent for long minutes after that. We just sit there, listening to the dog bark, and the kid squeal, and the splashing of the pool water. Eventually we hear West and Victoria talking. Then Mac and Ellie chastising the dog for something that probably involves a lot of long, wet hair. And Nolan and Ivy laughing about names for the baby she’s carrying.

  The only Mister voice missing is Oliver.

  I guess that’s because he has no Mrs. and doesn’t feel comfortable around all the other couples. Or maybe he’s still pissed about Pax and me and can’t bear the thought of seeing us together?

  “Miss Cookie?” Pax finally says, breaking my thoughts and the long silence at the same time.

  “Yes, Detective?”

  “Would you like to go bed with me? Waste a few unnecessary hours? Forget about later?”

  I look at the clock on the wall. It’s barely eight. “I certainly would, Detective. In fact,” I say, getting to my feet and taking his hand so I can pull him up, “I can’t think of a single better option than lying naked next to you right now.”

  “Naked?” he asks, smiling down at me. “I never said anything about getting naked.” He reaches for the hem of my t-shirt and lifts it up over my head, his big hands cupping the lacy bra that outlines my large breasts. “But now that you mention it, it’s just what the detective ordered.”

  He takes off his own shirt, drops it on the floor, and then leads me into the little bedroom at the back of the cabana. I watch the muscles move along his back in the dim light. The way they stretch and become taut with each step. The little twin shadows of dimples just above the waistband of his jeans. The curve of his ass and the length of his stride.

  Everything about Paxton Vance screams power. But it’s funny. With me, he’s so gentle and sweet. He’s really nothing like the man I imagined him to be all these years as I plotted and planned my way into his life.

  He’s so much better.

  Chapter Thirty-Two - Paxton

  I just look at her. She’s not even naked yet and I can’t take my eyes off her. So fucking beautiful. But so much more than beauty. “You’re so strong,” I say, reaching around her back to unclasp her bra.

  “I think I get it from you,” she says, letting the satin and lace slip down her arms and fall to the floor.

  “You’re so brave,” I say, placing my hands on her thighs, just underneath her flirty little skirt, and letting them travel upward to the round curve of her ass.

  “I learned from the best,” she says. “It’s easy to be brave when everyone around you is a role model. I love your loyalty, Paxton Vance. To your mom, and your friends, and my brother. Loyalty is handsome on you.”

  “I will always be loyal, Cinderella Shrike. Never doubt me. Ever. I’m on your side, Sugar. Everything in my life from this moment on leads to you.” I gently urge her towards me, so her breasts are up against my bare chest. I just want to feel the life inside her. The beating of her heart that I hope will be mine from this day forward.

  “I feel the same way. I don’t think we have anything to worry about with your mother. But whatever is going on, we stand by her until we know the absolute truth.”

  “Thank you,” I say.

  “You don’t have to—”

  “I do, Cindy. You have no idea what it will do to me if she’s behind all this. But until I get that proof I can’t turn my back. And I already know—I can already predict—all the fights between the guys and me over this. I totally understand now why Corporate refuses to talk shit about his parents. They were good to him.”

  “I know,” Cindy says, frowning up at me.

  “She was good to me.”

  “Don’t think about it yet, OK? Just wait. This feels like the end, ya know? We’re so close.”

  I feel it too. It’s like we have one more corner to turn and then everything—all the elusive answers—will come into view.

  “Let’s go to bed,” I say, unbuckling my belt and opening the button and fly on my jeans. I let them drop to the floor and then Cindy starts tugging on my boxer briefs until I can step out and kick all my clothes aside. I’m not fully hard yet, but that’s only because I don’t feel the rush of lust right now. I feel the glow of love.

  I get in bed and sit up, my back against the headboard, then pat my lap for her to sit. She faces me, her legs straddling my thighs. Her long blonde hair falling over her shoulders, reaching down past the tips of her hard nipples and the curves of her breasts. Swinging against my chest with just the lightest tickling sensation.

  I take her hair in my hands and place it over her shoulder, making her shudder. Making her already firm nipples bunch up even tighter. “I want to see you,” I say. “I want to look at you. Watch the expression on your face. I want your hands on my shoulders, your nails digging into my skin as we move together.”

  Her tongue darts out and brushes over her lips, making them glisten. “You don’t want to spank me, Detective?” she asks, gracing me with a smile.

  I shake my head slowly. “No,” I say, placing both hands on her hips, urging her to lift up so I can place my now-hard cock right at the opening of her wet entrance.

  She gasps, then closes her eyes as she lowers herself back down without any signal from me. I close my eyes too. The pressure on my shaft, the small friction we create as we meld together, and the heat from her body is all I need right now. Just the feel of her is enough.

  I think it’s the same for Cindy, because she rounds her back and places her head on my shoulder, like she’s seeking comfort.

  “It’s OK,” I say, turning my head so I can whisper in her ear. I trace a feather-light touch down the curve of her spine with my fingertips, which makes her shudder again and slowly begin to move on top of me. She lifts her head and looks down, her eyes on me. Only me. The blue just barely visible in the low light emanating off the digital clock on the nightstand.

  “I know,” she says back, her breath coming faster as I begin to move too.

  But there is something very sad about this moment. Something I can’t quite put my finger on. It’s not her. I think between Five, and Oliver, and me—I think we can keep her saf
e. And I’m not worried about me. I’m not worried about dying. I don’t know what’s happening to me and my friends, but it can’t come back to killing us. It’s something worse than death, I think.

  And there are such things. There are many things worse than your own death. You can lose a loved one. That explains Oliver’s reluctance to be in a relationship and why he doesn’t want Cindy involved. You could lose your identity. Which explains Weston and his lies trying to cover it all up. You could lose your reputation, like Mac, and take on the world trying be a saint and get it back. Or you could lose your self, like Nolan, and turn yourself into the monster people expect you to be.

  All these things are worse than death because you have to live with it. You have to get up every day and face the world you created, or succumbed to, or surrendered to and live with it. Does it matter? How it ends? Does it really matter when we all leave this life the same way? Dead?

  No.

  The only thing that matters is how you live.

  So… what do I have to lose? This is the question on my mind. What can they take from me that I will miss, beyond what they’ve already stolen?

  All those same things for sure. But don’t we all live with that potential loss? The risk isn’t in losing all those things my friends have. The risk is losing the few things I still have left.

  If I lose my mother… or Cindy…

  “Shhh,” Cindy says, still rocking slowly in my lap as she reads my thoughts. It’s only then that I realize a tear is falling down my cheek. “Don’t,” Cindy says, a tear falling down her cheek too. “Don’t get lost.”

  If I lose my mother everything else goes with it. Who could I possibly trust after that kind of betrayal?

  “We’re fine,” Cindy insists, her words barely a breath, not even a whisper. “It’s fine.”

  I wrap my arms around her, holding her tight and close. Ashamed to show her my emotions. I keep her there, like a prisoner against my chest, and let it all go so we can escape for a moment.

  I take my full attention back to the woman on top of me. I get lost in her instead. And when we come together, I let it all go.

  I let my mother go, I let the past go, I let the shame go, I let the life go… and I become dead.

  So now, there is no more risk. There is no more fear. There is nothing left to lose because there is nothing left to take.

  Cindy slides off me, her back pressing up against my chest as we lie in bed. I hold her prisoner again, just a little bit longer, until she falls asleep.

  And then I get up, get dressed, and go looking for Oliver.

  Chapter Thirty-Three - Cindy

  I sit up in bed, confused, my heart racing before I can make sense of where I’m at and what’s going on.

  You’re at Mr. Romantic’s resort.

  Someone sent you a silver envelope.

  I swing my legs over the side of the bed and go searching for my clothes.

  “Pax?” I yell into the other room as I put my bra on and then tug my shirt over my head and slip on my panties and skirt. “Pax?” Where the hell is he?

  I walk into the small living area and find it empty, then look back at the clock on the bedside table. It’s only ten thirty. Did he go looking for the silver envelope without me?

  I open the cabana door and find a whole crowd of Misters and Misses still at the pool.

  “There she is,” Ariel says, some kind of fruity drink in her hand.

  “What the hell is going on here? Where did Pax go?”

  Ariel walks towards me. “He left,” she says. “Went looking for Oliver.”

  “Well, where’s that?”

  “Probably the bar,” Ivy says. “It was a while ago. Oliver was in there getting drunk the last time I saw him. I’d leave them alone for a while. Let them work it out.”

  That’s actually good advice. Except I’m not worried about Oliver anymore. I’m wondering what the hell Pax was thinking, going out without me.

  “Thanks. But I’m just going to go check, just to make sure.” I start walking towards the little path that leads back to the main part of the resort but Ariel follows me, yanking on my arm hard enough to make me stop.

  “You’re keeping secrets, baby sister. And I don’t like it. You need to tell me what you know.”

  I turn and face Ariel. “You know,” I say, “if I had any answers for you, I might do that. But since you’re trying to bully me into submitting to your big sisterly bullshit, then I’ll pass, thanks.”

  “Why are you so angry?” Ariel asks, blinking her blue eyes at me innocently.

  “Me?” I say, pointing at myself. “I’m not angry. That’s always been you, Ariel. You’ve always been the angry sister. I just want to find Pax, so if you don’t mind—”

  “If you don’t mind, I’ll go with you,” she says.

  “I do mind, Ariel. I’m not the baby anymore. I’m all grown up, see? And I’m looking for my boyfriend, so just go back to the party and leave me alone.”

  I’m being mean. I realize that. But I need to get the fuck away from her right now. I need to get into that kitchen and see if Pax found the envelope without me. And I need to find him. And Oliver. Why did he get up and leave?

  “I’m just trying to help, Cinderella.”

  I sigh. “I know, Ariel. But butt out, OK? Just mind your own business. I’ll be back in a little bit with Pax and Oliver.”

  I start walking again, willing her to stay put. I look over my shoulder just as I turn the corner and she’s still standing there, arms folded, drink in hand. But at least she doesn’t follow. So I hurry faster along the walkway, then push my way past a crowd of people at the pool. This place is super busy tonight. There must be two hundred people partying around the pool.

  I finally get to the steps that lead to the main building and get inside. The bar packed too. And a live band is playing. But I do catch sight of Oliver and Pax, back near the pool table.

  I stop and watch them for a moment, wondering if I should join them or go grab the envelope first. They are smiling and joking, our problems temporarily forgotten. So I opt for plan B and head down the hallway towards where I think the kitchen is. I know there are two of them, the main one used for the restaurant and bar orders, and the catering kitchen used as spillover for the private parties.

  The main kitchen is still working, but it’s slow. I keep going until I’m in front of the stainless-steel double doors that lead to the catering kitchen and know that no one is in there, because there’s two little windows and both are dark.

  I glance over my shoulder, just to see if anyone is looking. All clear. So I push my way through.

  Inside there’s a little bit of light coming from various outlets that have some kind of nightlight hooked up to them, but other than that, it’s pretty dark. Which is perfect, since the last thing I need is for someone to see me get that envelope before I have a chance to read it.

  I stop and look around, trying to orient myself and figure out where I was standing earlier, my eyes adjusting to the dark. The way the dim, blue lights make the stainless tables glow as I make my way down the aisle towards the back of the room.

  This one, I decide, looking at the table in front of me with pots and pans hanging from a rack above it. This was where I was standing.

  I bend down and start feeling on the floor for the envelope.

  Nothing!

  Jesus Christ, what if they really did throw it away? Like the kitchen staff found it? Or what if Pax got here first?

  I stand up and a shadowy figure is standing on the other side of the room. I squint my eyes, trying to make out who it is. “Pax?”

  A sharp pain shoots up my neck, my hand going there instinctively, only to find a small, needle-like spike sticking out of my skin. “What the hell—” I pull it out and throw it on the ground, and then gasp when the shadowy figure starts moving towards me.

  “Who are you? Pax?” My heart is beating abnormally fast all of a sudden. “Pax?” My vision starts to go blurry a
s it gets closer. I back up, but hit the stove, and just stand there like I’m paralyzed.

  “What’s—”

  But I know. I don’t even need to ask.

  I’ve been drugged.

  I turn around, try to take a few steps, stumble, and have to use the stove to hold myself up.

  When I look behind me, the figure is only a few steps away.

  “Not Paxton,” the figure says. “Fortunately.”

  “Who are you?” I squint my eyes. But no matter how hard I try, I cannot make out the form. It’s not until it’s almost upon me that I realize it’s not some shadowy figure. It’s a woman in a long, silver robe with a hood over her head.

  “I would hate to kill him before we had to,” she says as I slump down to the floor, unable to move.

  “What—” did you do? But the last part of my sentence doesn’t happen anywhere but in my own mind. I cannot talk. I slump down, and the last thing I feel is a few strands of hair being tugged from my head as they catch on the stove on my way down.

  I cannot move.

  “We like him, Cinderella Shrike. We approve of him, so very good job, young lady. Thank you for being so cooperative.”

  And then everything goes black.

  Chapter Thirty-Four - Paxton

  “Ten thirty,” I say, checking my watch. “Cindy might be up now.”

  “Good,” Oliver says, taking his shot at the pool game we’re playing. “We need to figure this shit out.” He stops talking to watch the seven ball go into the side pocket and then straightens up and looks me in the eye. “Tonight, if she can find that envelope again.”

  “I hope we were just looking in the wrong place and it’s still there.”