All is Lost (All Series, Book 2)

by Marie Wathen

  Rhys grits his teeth and sighs, “Yeah.”

  Breesan gasps, “Did you just say a Lexus ISF? Ugh, that is like one of my favorite cars.”

  Curious about her out of character statement, I arch an eyebrow and tilt my head. She slips off the bed, laughs and then dances from one foot to the other mockingly. After a moment she returns to her spot on the bed and I notice her eyes are sparkling with a proud mischief. She's typically so focused and serious. It’s good to see her relaxing a little, but I know that on the inside she has a wrecking ball of guilt threatening to crush that life out of her.

  “Marcus, can I ask a favor?” Breesan says softly.

  I pause with rapt attention, “Sure.”

  “Would you check on Wren for me? With the news about me being abducted she may have freaked out a little.” She pauses, “I mean I guess she would since she did come here to meet me.” I sigh, not wanting to leave her side for a second even if it is to do something special for her. “I know we can't tell her anything, and I am okay with that, but Bates is the only other person she knows in Willow.” She twists her head up and stares at the ceiling briefly. “God I feel terrible. She came all the way from Paris to Willow just to meet me and then all of this bad shit happened. Who knows when we can be together again? I feel worse about deceiving her with lies now.” She admits sadly.

  Rhys shrugs, “She can’t know anything about you being here.”

  I join Breesan on the bed, taking her hand and grasping it tightly in mine. “If I could bring her here I would. For you I would do anything. I'm sorry you have to go through all of this bullshit Breesan…”

  “Beatrice,” she cuts me off. “You have to call me Beatrice now.”

  “Right, Beatrice,” I nod. “While you, Ensley and Rhys are shopping I'll go visit her. Only if you promise that you will not leave the store without me.”

  “Deal,” She says enthusiastically.

  An hour later the girls and Rhys are tucked safely inside Xtreme Me's before I walk the one block over to Wren's hotel. Fortunately the trip to the hotel will only take me a few minutes away from Breesan, which is almost too much for me, but I will do anything for my girl. Leaving her with Ensley’s neurotic behavior sets my nerves on edge, but coddling Breesan would only make her resent me. It is strange that Ensley doesn’t even notice the way Rhys and I camouflaged her with our clothing either, totally transforming the beauty into a guy.

  At the hotel I exit the elevator on Wren's floor and locate her room at the end of the hallway. I rap my knuckles on the door and within seconds it's jerked open by a gorgeous brunette with only a damp towel covering her glistening body. Her expression shifts from seduction to confusion and then finally to recognition.

  “Oh, hi?” She says, tightening the towel across her chest while languidly raking her eyes over every inch of me before offering a smile.

  I grimace, suddenly wondering if coming here alone was a good idea.

  “Please come in.” She whispers lustfully.

  I jam my clenched fists into my front jean pockets, hoping to control my uneasiness about joining her in this empty hotel room alone. Not waiting for me to accept her invitation, she steps away from the door then turns on her heels, leaving me standing in the hallway. She expects me to follow, and I do, but major doubts that this will be pleasant begin to consume my mind after shutting the door.

  From the look on Wren’s face upon answering the door I was not who she was expecting. Knowing that she anticipates someone soon offers me hope that we won't be alone together for too long. Normally a look like the one she gave me coming from a woman as beautiful as Wren would encourage me. Instead, because of what I’ve found with Breesan, I'm actually sickened by this harlot. Still, it is uncanny how much she looks like Breesan. Based on just the seductive exchange we shared at the door, I am positive that this is where the similarities end.

  After a couple of minutes, Wren returns to the front room wearing a loosely closed white hotel robe. She actively cinches the belt as she pads over to the bar pouring herself a drink. Glancing back at me, she lifts the bottle silently offering and I decline. She crawls onto the large sofa, sitting with her legs curled under her body and sips her drink slowly before glancing at me.

  Wanting to get this over with swiftly, I settle on the love seat across from her, leaning with my elbows on my knees. She forces a pleasant smile then arches an eyebrow in curiosity. It is a similar look to one, or two, that I have received from her lookalike cousin.

  “So, are you going to tell me why you're here?” She inquires, smiling expectantly after catching my scrutinizing gaze. Not wanting her to think I am interested in the least bit, I focus on staring into her eyes.

  “Wren, we didn't get a chance to meet at…the party.” I stutter, hoping we don’t have to talk about the shooting. She nods, solemnly averting her eyes to the door, like she expects her company to barge in on us.

  “My name is Marcus Walker. Breesan and I are…uh we're seeing each other. Something has happened.” I pause, watching as anxiety forces Wren’s eyebrows to draw inward. “I want to tell you myself before you hear it from somewhere else.”

  She slips her legs out from under her then places her feet on the floor, leaning forward she rests her elbows on her knees mimicking my posture.

  “Go ahead.” She says, penetrating me with a cold, steely stare.

  “Yesterday at the hospital there was an incident involving Breesan, Anna and another young lady. They were in the hospital parking garage and were approached by several men who attacked then abducted them.” I say tenderly, wanting to sound affected, but not too dramatic. Shocked, Wren stands then begins pacing the small space from the door to the bedroom, like a caged and starved animal.

  “I don't believe it.” She pauses, narrowing her eyes at me and I squirm a little from the intensity of her stare, “How?”

  I shake my head and say, “The police are investigating and doing everything they can to locate them. We'll get them back.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Slowly turning to face me, she transforms her anger and composes herself before whispering, “What is happening on this goddamn island?”

  Ignoring her questions, I provide the standard information released in abduction cases, “The other families were notified earlier today. Since Breesan’s stepmother Julia is out of town you are the only person that she has left.”

  Her head whips up in shock but she restrains whatever emotion that flashes through her eyes before nodding her head and averting her eyes again. “This is not what I was expecting when I came here. What am I supposed to do now Marcus?” She pauses, “Is there something being done to get her back? Is there a ransom? I don't have the money to offer some sort of reward for her return.” She states calmly, crossing her arms she stares skeptically at me, like I’m the bastard demanding a ransom.

  “All of your questions are valid and match my concern. I want to get Breesan back too, Wren. I'll give you the phone number to my buddy in the police department and he can get you in contact with the investigator in charge.”

  “Fuck, this is unbelievable. It can’t be happening like this.” She mumbles. I'm uncertain if it's anger or fear that I hear causing her voice to sound heinous.

  Alarms activating in my head at her tone instantly puts me on guard, and I force myself off the sofa, ready to get away from her. Stepping from my seat, I spot a hotel note pad and pen lying on the desk. I quickly scribble my and Raithe’s cell numbers on it then hold it out for her. She glances down at the scrap paper with a dazed look at first, but finally reaches out a hand accepting it.

  Forcing down my training and avoiding interrogation methods on Breesan’s cousin, I say, “Try not to worry too much. I have a feeling they will find her soon and unharmed. Wren, I know that she was excited about you being here in Willow and I’m sorry you didn’t get a chance to connect before all of this shit happened. If you choose to stay or go, please let me know.” Reaching for the doorknob, I pause
and glance over my shoulder before adding, “My family will be offering a reward for their safe return.”

  She nods once and I notice one corner of her mouth lift up. “I'll call your buddy then I'm booking the next flight off this damn island.” She states firmly and I acknowledge with a countering nod, more determined than before to get the hell out of here.

  Exiting Wren’s hotel room, I nearly collide into Bates, strolling coolly out of the elevator. Grinning as if he is lost in a daydream prior to noticing me, he stops dead in his tracks. His expression shifts to utter bewilderment. I approach him preparing to ask why he is here, when I notice a troubled look pass across his face before he storms past without a word. Shooting me with a heated glare, Bates pounds on Wren’s hotel door, like a madman. I stand shocked by the fact that he didn't even want an explanation for my being at Breesan's cousin's hotel room.

  Finally, returning to Rhys', my nerves settle somewhat considering the situation at hand. Having pulled off the shopping trip without a hitch and getting Breesan back to the compound safely helps relax me. Since leaving Wren's hotel room I have been preoccupied with keeping everyone in the dark about Breesan not being included in the abduction. I know it's for the best but what effect will this have once the girls are found and it's revealed that she was here all along. Anna and Waverly's families could resent her. I'm sure she's thinking about it, but she hasn't mentioned her concerns.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Marcus

  After dinner Rhys retreats to his office for a late night conference call. Thankfully, Ensley slipped out moments later stating she was staying over at her boyfriend’s place.

  Breesan and I settle in front of the television on the large, leather, sectional sofa in the den. Since the news released, she has been a ball of nerves. One of the local stations didn’t even go to a commercial break for the first two hours. I’ve encouraged her to sit through all of it hoping that it will help, but she seems even more depressed. I reach up and slide the back of my hand down her cheek. She pulls her attention away from the news report with a heavy sigh. I open my arms and she doesn’t hesitate snuggling against me. I am so grateful that I'm not the only one needing our contact. Lazily, my fingers rake over her soft shoulder. Without a doubt I am becoming more and more drawn to her, and touching her is an absolute must.

  Glancing down at the beautiful creature tucked under my arm I can't help but smile at how damn lucky I am that she's mine. Too many years of hearing about her then always being disappointed when she would be away every summer when I returned to Willow was rough. Then my job, her self-protective defenses of blocking out everyone, and other elements, specifically my twin brother, forced us to stay apart, but now here we are–finally together. I will do everything in my power to keep it this way.

  “Is is possible for us to grab some of my own things from my house or am I going to be forced to dress like the living dead twenty-four seven?” Breesan says, playfully jabbing my ribs with an elbow, drawing me out of my thoughts.

  She is wearing one of my old tee-shirts and boxers from the stash I store here for emergencies. I stifle a grunt, knowing I couldn’t stand seeing her in Rhys’ clothes again.

  “Depends on how hot you look undead.” I chuckle mildly when she whips her head around, mouth hanging open and staring at me like I have grown an extra head. “I can't have you strutting around all schmexy in front of the other guys. I'd have to beat their asses for ogling what's mine.” My joking tone turns serious, thinking about one of those fuckers looking at her at all, and again I nearly growl out loud.

  She chuckles, “Schmexy?” I shrug at her playfulness. “Oh I don't think that's going to happen. Have you seen how beautiful Ensley and Sam are, Mr. Walker? No competition.”

  “You're damn right about that,” I confirm, my eyes zeroing in on her luscious curves without her noticing. For me, the most beautiful woman in existence lies wrapped in my arms, and I would not want her anywhere else. She blushes deeply, embarrassed with the detour our conversation takes, so I change the subject.

  “Are you ever going to tell me why I was denied meeting you for so many years?” Staying in my arms, Breesan twists her head around, looking up at me from under dark eyelashes and smiles.

  “Sure, I'll tell you, but you might find it all boring as hell. I doubt it will interest you. Some of it was girlie activities.” She smirks, thinking she will unnerve me with this information.

  “I doubt that's true, unless you were learning to put on makeup, getting your hair done, or shopping all summer long.” I tease, knowing she is absolutely not that girl.

  “Uh no!” She snorts, “Not my style.”

  “I believe that,” I say looping a long strand of her hair through my fingers. “You're a natural beauty and don't need all of that cover up junk.”

  She glares at me, not believing my words, but no truer words have been spoken.

  Breesan is the most exotic creature I've laid eyes on. Her almond shaped eyes feathered with long, dark lashes highlight a pair of sparkling, steel gray eyes that possess my soul. Her skin is smooth as the finest porcelain. At times I hesitate grazing my thumb over her cheekbone or circling her sexy cherry pout with my rough fingers, for fear of damaging her flawlessness. Her draping dark hair, molding over her silky shoulder, begs for a touch from my aching hands continually, and I long to bury my face in, devouring her enticing cherry scent.

  “Marcus, you don't have to say things like that to me. It isn’t beauty that I see when I look in the mirror.” She lifts a hand, stifling my objection. “Please, before you say anything else, I'm not looking for compliments, and I absolutely don't want to argue.” Eyes set, she stares at me determined to win this argument. I nod, only relenting, because I do not support her words at all.

  Feeling like if we don’t talk about it now we’ll never get another chance, I say. “I want to know everything about you, the woman who eluded me for thirteen summers.” I smile, adding, “Where have you been all my life?”

  “Yeah, you look positively confounded at this very moment.” Breesan laughs and says, “Alright, I'll tell you, but I warn you that your turn will come.” Clearing her throat, she lets out a soft breath, devoting her attention to something along the wall across the room. “Julia sent me away to an assortment of cities to learn a variety of skills that she felt would refine me or make me a multifaceted catch for some man.” Wringing her hands subtly she rolls her eyes before sliding around to face me. “She expects she'll turn me into a delicate socialite, similar to how she masquerades around.”

  Her unease builds as she continues talking. She pulls her bare feet up, places them on the sofa encircling her arms around her knees. Artfully framing a solid barrier, guarding herself, she settles her eyes on me once again. Bared by her familiar protectiveness, I feel her trust in me wane. Troubled that we're back to this point, my hand instinctively wraps around her ankle while my thumb strokes gently over the top of her foot, symbolizing my need for her to hold onto us.

  “Some of the things that Julia sent me away to do…” She sighs, “I actually loved, but I would never tell her that.”

  Placing her chin on her knees and averting her eyes to her toes, Breesan continues sharing about her summer voyages.

  “Last year was probably the most exciting out of all of them. She sent me to New York for a museum crawl.” A huge smile splits across her lovely face as her eyes appear wistful. “For three months I toured, interacted and devoured enough art to last a lifetime.” Exhaling dramatically, she pierces me with a curious stare. “A little bit of trivia for you, guess how many museums there are in New York.” Smiling, she pauses actually expecting me to know the answer.

  “How many guesses do I get?” I ask, tapping a finger against my chin, feigning contemplation, while remaining hopeful that she will just give in and tell me.

  Breesan smirks, “As many as it takes for you to bore me with this game.”

  Laughing loudly at her directness, I run my hand along m
y scruffy jaw, actually considering the answer this time.

  “Oh, alright, my guess is seventy.”

  Shaking her head, she answers, “Close, but no.”

  “You really want me to keep guessing?”

  “No, I just wanted to see if you would play along or just expect me to tell you the answer. On another note, it is so good knowing that your patience is on the same level as mine,” She pauses and I quirk an eyebrow, wondering what she thinks my patience level really is. “Close to none,” She says giggling softly. Damn, she’s right.

  My eyes lock on her hand running slowly through the dark locks hanging loosely against the side of her face, and mine itches with envy.

  “Last year there were eighty museums in the city. And my favorite was the toy museum.” She smiles sweetly. “It was nostalgic seeing some of my old toys. But the coolest part was the children’s theater. Alongside professional actors, some of the younger kids would take the stage and perform plays all about toys. The children adored it. I admit I was a little jealous of their experience. I'm not an actor, and yet seeing the little ones take the stage happily, and completely fearless made me want to try it.”

  Narrowing her eyes, and wrinkling her nose, she focuses on me like she’s waiting for me to mock her. I sit with eager anticipation written all over my face, truly interested, encouraging her to continue sharing.

  “I can't believe it,” she says, giggling softly and shaking her head. “I did it and it was amazing. For one brief moment I was a star. No, not really a star, but being onstage, in front of hundreds of strangers I was able to channel a side of me that I never knew existed.”

  Grinning proudly at her innocent excitement, I'm thrilled with her sharing this personal experience with me. Finally, Breesan gets comfortable sharing bits of her childhood with me and unlocks the tight grip she has on her legs.