The Misters: Books 1-5 Box Set

by JA Huss

  Pax pulls him back before his fist connects with my face, and then everyone is yelling.

  A sharp whistle makes us all stop and look at the open door where Ariel, Ellie, Cindy, and Tori are all standing there, mouths open.

  “What the fuck is going on in here?” Tori asks.

  “Oh, my God,” Ellie says, her hand over her heart as she stares at the TV screen. “What?” She looks at Mac. “He’s dead?”

  “Nice secret meeting,” Pax mumbles under his breath. “They won’t suspect a thing,” he says, rolling his eyes.

  “Ellie,” Mac tries to explain. “Just go back out there and let us sort this out.”

  “Go back to the kitchen?” Ariel snaps. “I don’t think so.” And then she looks me dead in the eyes. “I want to know what’s going on, Oliver. And you’re going to tell me right the fuck now.”

  I look at my watch.

  “Why are you looking at your watch?” West asks. “You got something more important going on right now? You got somewhere else to be, Shrike? Because let me tell you something. You don’t. Your place is right here, right now, until we get your version of events that night.”

  “Fuck you,” I say. And then I look at my sister. “And fuck you too. I’m not a little kid, Ariel. I’m not your baby brother you can just order around. I don’t need to explain myself to any of you, OK? None of you. And as far as I’m concerned, this meeting is adjourned.”

  I only get a few steps towards the door when Mac pushes me against the wall and grabs my collar again. His face is pressed up right into mine and he spits the words out between his teeth. “You’re calling Nolan,” he growls. “You’re calling him up and you’re gonna tell him you’ve got everything under control. That he and Ivy are safe here. That Five is coming, OK? And all this shit will be dealt with. Because if you don’t, and anything happens to Nolan or Ivy out there in the motherfucking middle-of-nowhere desert resort they live in, I’m holding you responsible.”

  He lets go of my collar and I look around at each of them in turn. West is glaring at me like I’m filth. Pax looks sympathetic, but he’s nodding his head, which means he agrees. I’ve never seen Mac so angry. And all the girls look scared out of their minds. Even Tori. Even Ariel.

  I don’t say a word.

  I just walk out.

  Chapter Fourteen - KATYA

  I left town in the middle of the night four years ago. Not because I was hiding or escaping. I was, in a way, doing both of those things. But that really wasn’t the reason I left town at four AM.

  I was on a deadline.

  It was a Sunday, so it was a day Oliver and I had spent together. We hung out at his place, just chatting and making lunch, then dinner, in that makeshift kitchen. Most of the building was a total construction zone. No workers were there, but they didn’t exactly clean up when they left on Friday, so the only place to really relax was up in his makeshift bedroom loft that still smelled of old tires.

  Looking back now on the state of his home, and having become accustomed to the finer things in life as the years have passed, it makes me laugh. Picturing myself up in that loft surrounded by dust, and dirt, and industrial things that weren’t pieces of outsider art created by a local artist or ordered from some high-end catalog.

  Isn’t it funny? When you get all the things you thought you wanted, and you look back on how it all started, it feels much sweeter from the end of the road than it did at the beginning.

  I loved his place, even back then. And I’ve driven by it recently, so I know that my last memory of it is just that. A memory.

  The brick exterior, which was white back then—covered in grime, and oil, and filth after having served its purpose as a six-bay automotive garage for decades—is now a trendy dark gray with white trim around the windows. The door has been painted a glossy red and the asphalt parking lot has been turned into a manicured lawn, the perimeter lined with pine trees. There’s a brick wall surrounding the property with an impressive iron gate that has a sign out front near the intercom proclaiming it’s protected by ShrikeSafe Security. Which I know is co-owned by his sisters—one of their many (many) side businesses.

  But I’d love to go back in time. Be back in that loft that last night smelling those old tires. Be filled with angst about what was coming, what I was leaving behind, and then make a different choice.

  Would we have stayed together if I had stayed? I wasn’t even eighteen yet. Oliver was twenty-four.

  I had a promise to keep and Oliver… well, he was still stuck in his past back then.

  We never had a chance.

  I look at my watch as I gaze down to the street below. I can see the tattoo shop, still open, down the block.

  That’s where Oliver and I ended up that last night. That was the last place I saw him—machine in hand, dipping the needles in the dark ink, squinting down at my skin in concentration as he inked his words onto my body.

  He erased my scars that night. Replaced them with promises.

  I will kiss you here…

  And he did. He kissed them all away.

  Well, that’s the past and it can’t be changed. The rules of the game state that you get one chance for every moment. Make the wrong choice and it stays wrong forever.

  Did I make the wrong choice?

  I have to believe I didn’t. I have to keep telling myself that all my choices and all my lies had a purpose that led me right to this moment in time.

  Right where I’m supposed to be.

  I might not like the circumstances and I know I won’t like the outcome—at least as it pertains to Oliver. Once he finds out why I’m back he will make his own choice in his own moment and I already know how fast he will walk away.

  But I made my choice a long time ago and I’m right where I’m supposed to be.

  The next time that disposable phone rings all the pieces will fall into place.

  I turn away from the window and walk to my front closet, pulling my light green coat from the hanger and slipping it on over my jeans and sweater. I cinch the belt tight at my waist, grab my keys and everyday phone off the little table near the entrance, and slip them in my coat pocket as I pull open the front door.

  It’s an eight-minute walk to the church where we will meet up, but I can’t find a reason not to go a little early. Maybe peek into the tattoo shop as I walk past. Catch a glimpse of Oliver’s family members as they work this evening.

  No one is in the elevator as I take it down to the ground floor. The doorman smiles at me as I enter the lobby, and greets me by name as he opens the door and I pass through.

  I like that about this building. That they know my name. I’ve been hiding for so long it’s nice to be out in the open for once.

  I don’t peek into the tattoo shop as I walk by. I don’t even cross the street to be on the same side. I just put my head down into the biting wind and mind my business.

  I guess some habits die hard.

  The light is in my favor when I get to the intersection of College and Mountain, so I cross quickly, hands in my coat pockets, and then slow down as the church comes into view two blocks up.

  I listen for the sound of his bike, anxious, and fearful, and filled with longing. I am minutes away from experiencing him again. His hard body and strong arms. Will he kiss me? Will he wrap his arms around me? Will he be angry that I never got back in touch? Or will he be indifferent?

  Hey, what’s up? instead of, God, I missed you.

  I can’t know until it happens. Until he makes his choice in his moment. Only then can I make mine—to go through with this or turn back before it starts.

  The front entrance to St. Joseph’s has three Gothic arches that form an outside vestibule and lead to the tall double doors. That’s where I waited for him four years ago and it’s where I’ll wait for him now.

  I walk up the four steps and hide in the shadows, ears straining to hear the sound of his bike. I know he’s at Ariel’s house, only two blocks away. But there’s only the sound o
f people on College Avenue mixed in with the wind.

  My legs feel weak and I lean further into the darkness, my back pressing against the hard stone. My mind racing with the possibilities before me tonight.

  He did say meet me. That’s a good sign. At least he’s interested.

  But I know what’s going on in his world. My timing here isn’t coincidental. I didn’t just happen to post that video to that site. I posted myself to his site.

  The roar of a custom Shrike Bikes motorcycle erupts down the street.

  That’s him. He’s coming. He’s seconds away. My heart is out of control. Galloping like a horse as I breathe faster to supply it with oxygen.

  I have to swallow. I have to clasp my hands together to stop them from shaking. I have to turn away from the street and lean my head against the church to keep my legs from buckling underneath me.

  I count to ten as the engine noise builds, gets closer, and then… and then he’s there. His engine revving once, twice, until everything around me goes silent.

  Look at him. Turn around and look at him.

  But I can’t.

  I want to keep hiding as the deep thud of his boots walking up the stairs fills my head. I want to disappear and pretend none of this is happening. I want to go away, come back, and try again. Making different choices, creating new moments.

  “Kat,” he says, just a few feet away from me.

  I am breathing so hard, he must surely hear it.

  A hand on my shoulder, trying to pry me away from the building. Trying to force me to turn… to see him.

  “It’s you?” he asks. “Why can’t you look at me?”

  “It’s a good question,” I whisper back.

  His grip tightens on my shoulder, forcing me to make a decision. I turn, lifting my chin so I can see those blue-gray eyes first.

  “Kat.” He laughs, a huge smile on his face.

  “It’s me,” I say.

  “You came back.”

  “I said I would. Didn’t you believe me?”

  His fingertips are tugging on the collar of my coat, pulling it away from my shoulder, then slipping it down, along with the collar of my sweater, so he can see the mark he left on me four years ago.

  One arm gathers me close as he leans in and kisses the scar hiding behind his inked words. “And here,” he says, lips lightly brushing against my skin.

  “And here,” I say, tilting my head away to give him free access.

  I hug him then. The way I used to, before I was sad. Before I was lost. Before… back when I was happy, but didn’t realize it.

  He hugs me back. “Come on,” he says, pulling away but grabbing tightly to my hand as he does it. “I’ve been waiting four years for this second chance.”

  So there is it.

  Our choices made in the moment.

  They will seal our fates forever, I think. And one day, years from now, I will look back on this night as the start of something and not the end. And I will feel nostalgic and sad, wondering how I could’ve missed the fact that things were perfect.

  Chapter Fifteen - OLIVER

  We walk down the steps and I have to stop and look at her—just for a second, to make sure it’s all real. Kat’s body is shaking when I pull her tight to my chest. She seems so much smaller than she was four years ago. “I told you,” I say, “that when you came back I’d kiss you everywhere. That I’d still love everything about you. That your scars are my scars. We can own them together.”

  She was already breathing heavy when I first approached, but now there’s a hitch when she inhales.

  I push her away, just enough so I can see her face. “Are you crying?” She tries to turn away, but my hands automatically come up to hold her cheeks. “Don’t,” I say. “Don’t hide.” Her eyes flutter briefly, then she looks up at me. Tears stuck in her lashes making her eyes glisten with sadness.

  We stare at each other for a few moments. Find the familiar and the new there in the shadows of the church. “I knew this day would come,” she says, trying to catch her breath. “But I was never sure which way it might go.”

  “Katya,” I say, smiling. “I said I’d wait and I did. I said leave. Do what you need to do. But when you’re done, come back. And you did. It’s over now. You’re here and I don’t care what happens, this moment right now is enough to make me happy for the rest of my life.”

  She inhales sharply, shaking her head. But I see a small smile appearing. “How do you know there’s something to be happy about, Oliver? What if everything is just as bad as it was, and worse?”

  “I’m a big guy, Kat. I can deal with just about anything life wants to throw at me.”

  “I know,” she says, leaning into my chest and burying her head in my leather jacket. “You have always been that way. I just wish I was more like you and less like me.”

  “Fuck, no.” I laugh. “No. You’re perfect just the way you are. And I have so much to tell you. Four goddamn lonely years to make up for.”

  “Me too,” she says. “But not tonight. Can we play catch-up tomorrow? I just need to make things stop so I can enjoy it a little before it all passes me by.”

  “Come on,” I say, leading her towards the bike. “Let’s just get started and we can figure it out as we go. Here. I even have a helmet for you. That’s why I’m a few minutes late. I had to go back inside and grab Ariel’s helmet on the sly. Fucking everyone is over there right now and none of them are too happy with me at the moment.”

  “What’s happening?” Katya says as I push the helmet on her head and mess with the chinstrap.

  “Nothing you need to worry about. Just old business coming back to haunt us.”

  “You say it like it’s nothing,” she says, her fingertips brushing the tears from her eyes.

  “Tonight it is nothing. I don’t give a single fuck about anyone but you and me right now.” I swing my leg over the bike, then scoot forward so she has enough room to get on behind me.

  The heat of her body pressed next to mine is almost enough to make me sigh. I reach behind and grab her hand. Place it flat on my stomach. “Hold tight,” I say.

  “Gonna do tricks on this bike? Afraid I’ll fall off?” she asks, a hint of happiness in her voice.

  “Nah,” I say, standing up to kickstart the engine. I look over my shoulder and shoot her a smile. “I just want your hands all over me. Because God knows, my hands will be all over you once we get to my place.”

  If she responds, I don’t hear it. Because I rev the engine and take off. She leans into me when we take a corner and I find myself wishing we were about to take a long journey together, just so I can feel the heat of her body.

  Sadly, my garage house is two minutes away and I’m pressing the gate remote on my keychain far sooner than I’d like. I wait for it to open, drive though and press it again, sealing us up inside my little fortress.

  I press another button on the remote and the last car bay at the far end of the building begins to roll up. I ease the bike into the garage and close it.

  When I turn the engine off I sit for a few seconds in silence, not quite sure this is real.

  Four fucking years.

  The first year I told myself she’d come for holidays. Or maybe summer break. I was so fucking sure of it. Even if it was just to see her sister. But she didn’t. The second year I almost went looking for her address. I dreamed of a road trip. Waiting for her outside an apartment or house. How it would feel to see her as someone other than the person I knew.

  But I stopped myself. I know that too much information can be a bad thing. I could imagine an Oliver who was obsessed. An Oliver who wore out his welcome. An Oliver she might come to hate.

  So I left her alone. Bided my time. Worked on the business, finished turning this garage into a home. Let my sister become my closest friend and put Kat behind me.

  Last year I didn’t think about her much. Or I tried not to. It was hard not to follow her career as an artist. So of course I’d see things. A photograph
. Or a painting. Or I’d look at my little buckeye tree in the middle of my living room and suddenly realize it had grown a few feet taller and she’d missed it.

  This year I haven’t had time to think about her at all. Too much Mister bullshit going on. She’s always there in the background, but I ignored it. Almost half the year was spent jetting from one crisis to another with Nolan, and West, and Pax.

  I never forgot about her though.

  “Is this all you got?” Kat asks, breaking the silence. “After years of renovation all you have to show for it is an oversized garage?”

  “Nah,” I say, recalling my question to her when she was trying to convince me she was badass that first day we met. I swing my leg over the bike and she follows. I take my helmet off and hang it from the handlebars, then take hers and do the same. “I got so much more for you, Kat. Your head will spin by the time we’re done.”

  “God,” she says with a smile, morphing into the younger version of her I remember. “Why are you talking about being done? We haven’t even started yet.”

  I lean in and kiss her. I close my eyes, thread my fingers into her long hair, pulling her into me. Like I can form her into a part of me if I fit our puzzle pieces together in just the right way. It’s a small kiss at first. Then my mouth parts, my tongue urging her to do the same. And I whisper, “Did you watch me jerk off in that video?”

  She smiles into our kiss. “I didn’t just watch you, Mr. Shrike. I joined you.”

  “Mmm,” I hum against her mouth. I kiss her again and pull back. Staring at her. “You have such a sweet face for such a dirty girl.”

  “You always did like that part of me.”

  “I like all parts of you, Katya Kalashova.”

  I turn away, keeping her hand in mine as I walk us towards the door that leads to the other garages. We pass through two more bays and then I punch the security code for the lock the main door and open it for her.

  I have the lights on an automatic timer—Ariel’s professional security suggestion, plus it’s good for my little tree—so the whole place is lit with a soft yellow-orange glow. I wave her forward and follow her in.