DECEIT (B723)

by Hazel Grace

  “Oh.”

  It’s the only response I have.

  One that doesn’t solve his problem and the ones he’s leading to face with B723 as a whole. They’re all going to be pissed at him, but they’ll still support him. Well, everyone except the man I named my baby boy after.

  “And let’s just say,” Mills continues. “That Bishop is probably going to dig you up and kill you again.”

  My stomach drops, and I wrap my free arm around it. “So it went well.”

  “Oh, the best.”

  “Mills, I’m—“

  “Don’t tell me you’re sorry again,” he snaps. “I’m never having kids. They’re a pain in the ass.“

  “Are they not eating? Do you need me—“

  “To do what? Are you going to swing by and take them? Are we done playing this stupid game of you wanting to do this by yourself?”

  My shoulders slump. “No.”

  “Great, then, no you can’t help me. You could hire a few rent-a-cops to take a few bullets for me when Bish tries to assassinate me.”

  “He’s not going to hurt you,” I reply softly. “He’s just…angry.”

  “You didn’t see his face.”

  “I’m—“

  “Don’t say sorry,” he seized out again. “I’ve heard enough of it. I walked into this, I agreed to it…because you left me no other choice.”

  “You already know why,” I retort. “Do we really have to go over the points again?”

  “Nope.” He remains silent for a moment, and I can picture him rubbing at his forehead and calming down his breathing. “What’s the news on Alexander?”

  “He’s building a case, hired a lawyer.”

  “So we’re fucked.”

  “Uh, no. I’ll be at the courthouse if it comes down to it.”

  “Suicide mission, got it.”

  “Can’t be if I’m already dead.”

  “Emmy,” Mills leers. “You’re going to show up with B723 and me there? You don’t think someone is going to see you?”

  “No, not really. I dyed my hair and cut it. I’ve practically lost ten pounds from stress and I have a limp because I twisted my ankle the other night on a shoe. So, I’m not the same ‘ole Emmy.”

  “It’s not funny.”

  “No shit, it hurt like a bitch.”

  “Do I need to be ready? For this court shit?”

  I nod. “Yeah...just in case. He’s not going to stop. Alexander’s investigator is running out of things to look me up on. Give it a few more days, and he’s fired.”

  “Any luck with the bank accounts?”

  “Almost. I think I figured out how the coding system works with how the passwords are selected.”

  “You’ll have to show me that trick sometime.”

  “Consider it payment for the help.”

  “You’ll need to do more than that. I want a lifetime supply of…something.”

  I tsk. “Well, when you figure that out, let me know.” A soft little baby voice sounds in the background, and my heart swells. “Is that Atlas?”

  “Yeah, she just woke up. Lemme put you on speakerphone.”

  He does, and I speak to her and ask her about her day. I refer to Mills as her fairy godmother, to which he replies with some crude remark not for children’s ears. Alaric is sleeping to which he normally does longer than Atlas anyway. At first, it used to worry me, but Atlas seems to always be searching for something with her eyes Mills tells me.

  My little map attempting to locate the missing piece of her life—me.

  “I’m going to feed her,” Mills announces. “Hold on, I’ll switch to video call so you can see her.”

  He does and I see my beautiful girl in a pink jumper with a matching binkie in her mouth. Her pretty blue eyes fix on me through the screen, and I feel the burn of tears at the back of my eyes.

  Mills leans over and peeks his head in, and I scowl. “I don’t need to see you.”

  “You look like shit, Lou Boo. When is the last time you’ve slept?”

  “Probably as much as you do.”

  “Yeah, but you need it more. I need to give you these kids back.”

  My eyes narrow. “They’re not that bad.”

  “Yeah, but I’m no father.”

  I glance at Atlas. “She seems to like you well enough.”

  “Because I have food all the time. Your daughter has me on a strict as fuck schedule.”

  I wish I knew.

  “It’ll be over soon.”

  Mills gives me a weak grin. “I know. I got it, Ems.”

  “I know you do, and I love you for it.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” He disappears out of the frame, and it’s my daughter and me, along with more cooing and talking on my end.

  She’s absolutely adorable, and I’m envious of my best friend who gets to hold, feed, and love my babies before I even can.

  “Hey, I meant to ask you what can I get Marty for his birthday? You know him more than me.”

  “What do you mean, you’ve known him longer.” A bottle shows up and Mills plucks Atlas’s bink out of her mouth to insert her milk instead.

  “We don’t talk like that. You know how much he tries not to.”

  “Marty loves you.”

  “Marty is going to join Team Bishop when he finds out I’m daddy.”

  “He would never hurt you. Especially when there are kids involved, and he’s a father himself.”

  “Ugh, Stormi is going to want to do playdates and shit.”

  “Good—“ I lean back in my chair and watch him feed my daughter. “—you could use the break.”

  “Not fun.”

  “I’ll find something for Marty. You just keep my babies safe.”

  “Done.”

  “And Mills?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I love you more than you’ll ever know, but if you get yourself killed, I’ll be the one to bring you back to murder you again.”

  “That’s seriously not fucking reassuring when there’ll be a group of assassins with a target on my ass.”

  “I won’t shoot you,” a female voice chimes in before the phone shifts and is picked up to show off Blue on the screen.

  I can’t help my frown at her not only being there but taking the camera off my daughter.

  “Hey girl,” she greets with a smile. “How’s it going in exile?”

  “As good as it can be,” I reply.

  “Yeah, I guess it would. Don’t worry about a thing, we got shit handled.”

  I perk a brow. “Really? I heard—“

  She waves a hand dismissively in the air. “You know how the guys are. It’ll blow over.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Did you want to see Alaric sleep?” I see her walking through Mills place and, I have to admit, I’m surprised she even thought of it.

  Blue isn’t what I would call a motherly figure. She does hard drugs, can drink more than a man, and gives zero fucks about consequences. She’s brave and confident, things I may have faulted her for in certain scenarios, but I can’t judge her too harshly when I really don’t know her.

  I have no clue when her birthday is, if she has family, a boyfriend, where she’s from, or anything of significance.

  I never asked.

  “Now that we’re alone for a second—“ She lowers her voice into a whisper. “—I wanted to have a girl chat.”

  “Uh…sure.”

  “I meant what I said with the guys, don’t worry about it. Kyson won’t let anything happen, and neither will I.”

  I perk a brow. “Since when do you play devil’s advocate?”

  “Never,” she honestly conveys, popping a piece of pink gum in her mouth. “But this is…different.”

  I want to ask her why and how, but we don’t have time to bullshit.

  Or maybe it’s because I don’t prefer to admit I was completely wrong about her. I cast her out as Bishop did to me with not belonging within our family but for entirely other reasons.
r />   “Did you find out when his next outing was?”

  “He has a meeting at a club that he’s trying to schedule. I figured we could off him there.”

  She smiles wickedly. “Let me know when and I’ll meet you.”

  Yes, ladies and gents, I may be working with Blue on an undisclosed case. The world has gone crazy.

  “Here he is,” she whispers, flipping the phone’s camera around to show me a crib. She hovers the phone over the side and displays my handsome little boy bundled up in a blue blanket with his mouth open.

  He looks great, breathing perfectly on his own as he peacefully sleeps with his arms hung over his head.

  He looks like Bishop.

  How he used to sleep and appear serene while in his dreams or lack of. Such a strong boy with a special name after a man who will never forgive me after this.

  “You make pretty babies, Emmy Lou Rhodes.”

  The tears that form in my eyes at the sight of Alaric, I let fall. They hit my cheeks, reminding me that there is still a guy who tried to kill us. That has to die, or we’ll never see any rest.

  “I promise, nothing will happen to your babies.”

  “Thanks, Blue. I appreciate it.”

  The phone moves again, and Blue appears, a genuine and serious expression painted on her face. “All of them.”

  Alexander sent in another DNA test for Alaric and Atlas, making this the fourth one he’s done since I’ve been pronounced dead.

  It took some time, but every lab or DNA testing site that performs these, I’ve carefully hacked. Whenever his name appears, I get notified and my skin crawls.

  I’m still surprised he’s so adamant on this. What he wants with our kids is beyond me, but I’m beginning to think that his level of psycho runs deeper than just stabbing a pregnant woman.

  In the meantime, I’m searching for the best attorney for Mills in case we need it. Making a quick sandwich before I go back to work, my cell begins to buzz off my coffee table.

  Wiping my hands clean, I run to answer, already knowing it’s either Blue, Lucien, or Mills because they are the only ones to have this number.

  It’s Mills with my babies.

  “Hey, how’s it going?”

  “Emmy, we need to wrap this shit up ASAP,” he says, harsh exhales hitting the receiver of the phone. “Like now.”

  “What—“ A loud blast booms from the other line, ringing into my ears and making me jolt backward. My brain instantly goes to Alaric and Atlas.

  “Fuck!” Mills bellows before I hear a rustling sound which I can only make out as running.

  “Mills!” He doesn’t respond, causing me to look down at my cell to make sure the call didn’t drop. He’s still there but can’t answer, sending a violent chill running down my whole frame. “Shit.”

  Grabbing my sweatshirt, I sprint for the door without a plan. Only that something is obviously really wrong, and I need to be there.

  He’s at least thirty minutes away. You’ll never make it.

  My heart forcefully slams into my chest on every rapid heartbeat, making it hard to move quickly as I want. I wish I could teleport there because no matter what is happening, I won’t be much of a help, and that alone makes me feel disgustingly worthless.

  I’m out the door when I hear Mills mutter in a harsh tone, “Emmy, you need to get him under control!”

  My brows descend as I fumble with my keys to unlock my Jeep’s door. “Who?”

  “Who the fuck do you think?”

  Instant anger hits my brain at his vagueness. “Mills, I’m playing with this—“

  “Bishop,” he snaps. “He just tried to fucking kill me.”

  I wasn’t fucking playing when I said Mills was a dead man.

  And I sure as hell wasn’t bullshitting when I tell you that his touching my girl wasn’t going to go without me doing something drastic.

  I didn’t need to spend too much time on how I was going to do it.

  I was going to roll with it.

  It’s been over a week since he broke the news of his paternity, and I’ve been simmering in rage ever since. I’ve been teeter-tottering on deleting everything of Emmy in my phone to finding myself staring at it with a piercing pit of emptiness in my stomach.

  Every picture I’ve taken of her, every text message we’ve ever had, and the constant need to check her Instagram has been mocking and tearing at me.

  And now that I’ve had plenty of time to reflect, I hate her more than ever. Except I can’t make myself delete a fucking thing.

  They say love and hate are very similar emotions, ones with different reactions but the same gutting feeling when it goes horribly wrong. I want to smoke and drink her out of my head but know that’s never ever going to happen.

  Not for me, but it sure as hell did for her.

  Regardless, she’s dead, and Mills is alive when I wish it were the other way around.

  So taking matters into my own hands was going to begin the moment Mills stepped out of the safety of his home and into the world where I’ve been.

  Alone.

  Upset.

  Livid.

  And on a fucking warpath to obliterate the man who received what I wanted.

  So we’ll add envy to the list as well.

  Mills left his home when Blue showed up, and it would’ve been kind of me to let him drive away, believing that everything would be okay when he did, but I’m too much of an asshole for that.

  Settled between the buildings of his new condo, I aim my silenced Glock at the back of his head and purposely miss. I like the hunt. And furthermore, I want Mills’s heart to burst in his ribcage in fear.

  I want him to know it’s me.

  He might be a fucker, but he’s not a completely stupid one. He’ll know when he’s being gunned down and by who.

  So when he begins to run towards his black BMW to make his escape, the curl of a smile resonates off my face.

  You see, I like more of a show, and shooting someone is mundane and typical. I want to tear Mills apart into small pieces, and while torturing him would be ideal, the looming consequences of B723 attempting to save him hovered over my head.

  Mills hops into his car, slamming the door with Kyson more than likely on the other line of his cell when he hears it.

  The motherfucker hears it.

  The moment he turned the ignition to his car, he heard the click. The tick of the bomb that would trigger its five-second countdown.

  Mills throws open the door and sprints out, causing me to follow and pull myself from the casted shadows of my spot.

  I could chase him or continue to gun his ass down from afar, but I’m not looking for a swarm of cops to surround the area when someone calls to report the explosion.

  No, I want him to live in dread.

  Or not.

  I move, watching him start for the wooded area behind the parking lot with his phone still attached to his ear.

  It’s another step I anticipated him taking should he continue to be the bane of my existence and catch on to my first plan.

  The car blows, scattering pieces of metal and glass. It’s ear-piercing and a waste of a nice-looking ride, but collateral damage is what comes with revenge plans sometimes.

  Opening up my truck, I let Armageddon loose, as I command, “Revier.”

  Hunt.

  My German Shepherd takes off, tracking down my target, who used to be someone I would protect with my own life.

  Now I just want to take his.

  Taking my time, I retrieve a small bag from the backseat and follow my dog into the woods, hitting the edge when I hear Armageddon bark that he’s located Mills.

  It doesn’t matter that my dog knows him, it’s the strict command to find what I want and keep it there until I arrive.

  I sprint through the trees and brush, praying for Mills’s sake that he doesn’t have a gun to shoot Armageddon, or I’m going to make it that much more painful for him.

  “Arm!” I hear Mills shout.
“Get the fuck off me!”

  I smile, heaving the bag over my shoulder when my ex-teammate growls something into the phone.

  “Bishop,” he storms. “He just tried to fucking kill me.”

  Oops.

  Armageddon barks again, luring my attention to my right with Mills up against a thick tree and kicking at him to back off.

  The boys are never going to forgive me for this, but I planned on leaving B723 anyway. There’s nothing left but painful memories and the fact that I need to move forward with my life.

  And it isn’t with the guys.

  Where there is violence and bloodshed here, I can’t stay. And I sure as hell couldn’t stay when I had to stare at Mills every fucking day.

  “Bishop!” I glance up to see Mills already boring a glare in my direction. “You stupid motherfucker, what the fuck?!”

  “What the fuck indeed,” I deadpan, then look to my dog. “Fass.”

  Bite.

  My dog jumps and seizes Mills’s thigh between his jaws, clamping down to which Mills throws out a string of curses.

  He then lowers his voice and pockets his phone while Arm remains still with his body part within his sharp teeth.

  “I will shoot this dog,” Mills warns, locking his gaze with mine.

  I shrug because I’ll pop a cap in his dick if he tries it. “Platz.”

  Down.

  Armageddon releases Mills, and he grips his leg where a pattern of dark stains begin to seep through the jean material of his pants.

  “You’re fucking serious?” he professes, his face twisted in pain and fury.

  “I am.” Mills shakes his head and averts his gaze from me, experienced in what comes next because he’s been with me while I do it to others.

  Instead, this time he’s on the other side because he fucked my girl.

  She fucked him.

  They had two kids together and I can’t even have that with her. I’m not able to keep the pieces of what remains because they are linked to someone who was always supposed to have my back.

  We were brothers.

  We stuck together.

  He betrayed me in the worst way possible. I would’ve rather him stabbed me in the back than did what he did.