by Hazel Grace
“So?” my counter is weak but loud as he screws his face like I’m insane.
I am. I work with a bunch of psychotic people, but they were all right; we’re in this together. They’d never leave me behind even though I don’t deserve it.
But I’m nothing compared to him. He’s evil that hides behind a suit and company. Who attempted and almost succeeded in annihilating three lives in one shot.
“So?” he repeats sardonically. “How do you think you’re gonna get away with this? People will look for me. You want your boys to beat my ass—fine!” He sucks in a breath, struggling to keep calm and hide that he’s not in so much pain. “But they’re gonna look at you, sweetheart.”
“Why me? I’m dead.”
He scowls. “Your secret is out. My brother knows.”
“Ah, yes, the congressman dealing with a terrorist.”
“You know nothing!”
“Don’t need to,” I reply flatly. “I know all I need to know.”
Alexander’s mouth sets in a fine line. “This…won’t work out for you…the way you think it will.”
I glance down at my squad, all staring straight ahead at him with pure venom in their eyes. “Didn’t you guys tell him?”
They all glance over at me but remain silent. They didn’t say shit.
“Tell me what?” Alexander counters confidently. “That you roll around with a gang?”
“Geezus Christ.” I hear Marty utter.
“Why does everyone think we’re a gang?” Mills complains. “We don’t wear matching jackets and shit with a logo.”
“Maybe we should,” Blue chimes in. “We can have cool nicknames and shit.”
“I call Mighty Mills.”
“You’re so fucking dumb,” Kyson snarks. “What are you mighty in?”
Mills crosses his arms along his chest and scoffs. “My dick for one. Two, my charm. Three, I keep on trying to tell you guys that I’m pretty fuckin’ baller, but y’all keep acting like I’m not one of the smartest guys here.”
“You’re not dumb,” Blue says. “Just special.”
“I’m not eat-the-paste kinda special.”
“Nah, you’re the kind that sniffed white-out to get high,” Marty surmises.
“That was one time,” Mills huffs. “And I was doing an experiment.”
Marty scoffs. “To get high.”
“How about you all shut the fuck up and leave,” Alexander storms. “Let me talk to my fiancé.”
Mills plucks my left hand and lifts it in the air. “Damn, I don’t see a ring, do you guys?”
“I don’t remember him asking for our permission either,” Marty adds. “The answer is no.”
Alexander’s face softens, and he gives me a lop-sided grin, changing his whole deposition. “Emmy…c’mon. We were gonna talk about this. I’m going to a therapist and everything for you.”
The room fills with a bunch of snorts and the back and forth banter between the guys and Blue. Their chatter makes me relax a little against Alexander’s indifference of how to act.
“I’m ready,” I tell Bishop, trying not to do what he told me not to and squeeze the bow.
Alexander frowns but still keeps his light tone. “Think about this.”
“I did.” I take a deep breath, settling my nerves. “You’re done.”
“Done? What the hell do you think this is?”
My lips twist into a proud grin because the boys were right—this right here is family. “This is B723.”
Bishop wraps his hand around my right and brings back the taut string that I’d release like Robin Hood.
“B, what?”
“Alexander…we’re a secret group of government assassins. Why do you think I was able to hack into your shit way before you found out? How do you think I faked my own death? That I was able to forge several DNA tests and knew where you were sending requests to just to give you back a fucked result.” A mirthless chuckle escapes my lips. “I’ve killed more men than you know how to count, you stupid piece of shit.”
I didn’t know it was possible, but I think Alexander’s face pales more.
“Transfer that tension to your left hand,” Bishop buzzes in my ear. “And pull when you’re ready.”
I do it immediately, wanting to do what everyone told me to—get this over with.
The pads of Bishop’s fingers tilt my elbow up a little as he moves to the side and back to give me space.
His hand though, stays on the spot between my ass and my back.
“You can’t be,” Alexander argues with a shake of his head. “You’re…”
“Here we go with the stereotypes again,” Mills drones.
Yeah, I can only imagine what Alexander is going to say next, and I don’t care.
He picked the wrong one at the end of the day.
Releasing the arrow, it makes a slight whistle and just misses the side of Alexander’s head.
He. Is. Absolutely. Furious.
“Are you fucking kidding me?!”
I hand the bow off to Bishop, irritated that I missed, but I still keep my hard stare on my ex. “Your turn.”
The boys snicker and Blue finds my other side when Bishop loads up.
“Think you can get a dick shot, little Lou?” she asks me. “It would suck to go to hell without your pecker.”
I sniff at the thought.
Yeah, it would.
“I’ll give it a shot,” I impart, watching Bishop line himself up. His muscular arms rippling under his blood-stained white shirt.
Geezus, I’m so fucked up.
He’s super freaking attractive right now, about to maim or kill shot my ex and all I want to do is jump his entire ass again.
“Can I still babysit?” Blue suddenly presses, all traces of playfulness gone from her voice.
I steal a quick glimpse at her, finding her shifting uneasily at my side.
I don’t have to repeat how her and I don’t get along. She allows, and I discourage—mostly when the boys want to be idiots—we couldn’t be more different.
“You kidding, right?” Her pretty hazel eyes narrow. “Why the hell am I going to turn down a free babysitter?”
Her face breaks out in a smile but I don’t have time to take it in.
No, I mom-arm her ass to the side so I can see my man take his shot.
Bishop releases a second later and a blood-curdling scream escapes Alexander.
With an arrow sticking right from between his legs.
The boys are howling in laughter and chuckles, and Blue has the balls to pat my head like a child even though I just told her she could watch my kids, the bitch.
She moves for Bishop to reclaim his spot, a satisfied smirk playing off his face.
“I heard you talking about dick,” he muses, rounding my body to stand behind it again. “Thought it was fitting—“ He bows closer to whisper, “—since that’s all you’re going to be getting tonight.”
My body breaks out in a cool chill as he hands over the large bow.
“Your turn.”
Alexander is arched back in his chair, clearly beside himself in agony as Bishop guides me to my next attempt. We lock eyes and my brain rummages through everything Alexander and I have done.
The annoyingly charming way he picked me up when Bishop bailed.
How effortlessly thoughtful he was.
The fearless way he expressed his feelings.
The confidence he oozed.
The knife he took that pierced and almost murdered our children.
The faint scars that I will always wear because of him.
I don’t wait for Bishop’s help on the next, lining myself up like the last time but a little to the left. With my two fingers holding the firm string of the bow along with my held breath, I let go. Time slowly enters the room, but I regret nothing.
An ear-splitting wail then echos off my condo walls, and my vision becomes clear.
Alexander with my arrow in his chest, near his heart. His mout
h is opening to let me have it again, but he’s losing the fight.
“You stupid…fucking—“ The loud crack of a gunshot startles me back against Bishop’s body and everyone else in the room. And out steps a man from my kitchen.
Ledger.
“I told you boys to stop playing so long with your prey,” he chides, pocketing his gun behind his gray suit jacket.
I watch him stride deeper into the living room, but my eyes flick to Alexander. His head slumped to the side—dead.
The shaky exhale of my next breath is caught by Bishop, and he encases me in his arms like a cocoon.
“Mills, go check out the neighbors,” Ledger orders with a jerk of his head. He runs off while our commander stops in front of the rest of us. “Blue, happy to see you here.”
“Wouldn’t miss it, commander.”
His eyes flick to Marty, then Kyson before those dark greens rest upon me. “Emmy Lou, are you okay?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Come have breakfast with me tomorrow.” He glances at Marty. “You too. We have some things to go over.”
Stepping forward, he shakes Bishop’s hand and tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear, giving me a weak smile.
“She stays with you tonight.” His eyes never leave mine even though he’s talking to the man I’m currently kept safe in. “And give me a break for a while, yeah?”
I nod, and he takes off when Marty shows up at my left.
“Now what did we do?” he emits, annoyed.
I’m not quite sure, but I have a funny feeling it’s gonna suck.
“It’s been almost a year,” Ledger conveys, sitting spine-straight behind his desk. “That you’ve both had…your own issues.” His frown deepens, clearly upset with the both of our antics that haven’t been non-work related. “Now, you both have children and significant others…” He flicks his gaze to me. “I think.”
Marty and I remain seated next to each other in his office, silent and waiting impatiently for him to stop speaking.
He loathes being interrupted. Do it, and he’ll give you the shittest assignment just to show you how much. His level of petty, however, keeps us in line.
Sorta.
“I’m offering an out.” He leans back in his brown leather chair, large hands folded over his navy suit. “A retirement, if you will. I never expected both of you to stay here forever.”
Marty shakes his head, clearly not happy with the idea.
“Go ahead, son,” our commander cajoles.
“I don’t want to leave,” my teammate bites out. “I need it.”
Ledger sighs. The wrinkles around his eyes alluding to how times he’s had to squint, glare, or used them on one of us or all of us. “You don’t need the job, and the danger entwined with it, just the family. You found it—here.”
“It…” Marty readjusts himself in his chair. He doesn’t like talking about his needs and wants. He just deals. This job is his way of doing it, and I know him and Stormi have spoken about it before. “It keeps the dark at bay.”
“And Stormi? Does she not worry about you when you’re out here now saving Emmy?”
Ugh. Is it possible to feel more like an asshole?
“She is, but—“
“What about when you’re in your fifties like I am,” Ledger retorts. “Are you going to go around taking people out? People that are decades younger and stronger than you.”
“Maybe,” Marty leers. “It’s called a gun.”
“Marty, your children will grow. What will you tell them you do when they go off to school? What kind of job do you have, and why do you come home with blood on you that’s not yours? This was always supposed to be temporary. A way to find yourself.” Ledger leans forward and places his elbows on the desk. “I’m not firing you, though, I should. This is the second time I’ve told you not to take matters into your own hands that haven’t been assigned to you.”
“Emmy is family. That matters.”
“Of course it does.” He rubs the peppered stubble of his chin. “Think on it, for the future. If you want to stay, so be it. Except don’t lose that lovely wife of yours. I’ll kill you myself with a gun as you so put it.”
“Yes, sir.” Then the full weight of Ledger’s gaze suddenly falls on me, and I swallow.
It’s awful knowing that you’ve disappointed someone who’s like a father to you. That you’ve betrayed trust and time lost when they thought you were gone from this world. I knew our previous conversation wasn’t done. There was so much more that needed to be sorted out.
And now…I’m not ready.
“You, on the other hand, are something else altogether.” I nod, aware that he’s right and I’m a straight, overbearing pain in the ass like everyone has been telling me for ages. “I expected more from you. Especially since you’ve been trying to keep the boys in line for years.” He steals a glance at Marty. “Half the reason why they’re still alive.”
“You’re not wrong,” my teammate mutters back.
“Emmy.” My name is softer off his lips, and it does nothing to calm my nerves for the storm of what he wanted to tell me running through it. “You’re a mother. A single mother.”
“Well aware,” I sass back, resulting in Ledger perking a brow at me.
I don’t want to quit B723, but there’s no other alternative. Unless Ledger gives me one where I don’t need to be caught in the line of fire.
“I can’t risk their futures,” our commander continues as if he really is my father, and Alaric and Atlas are the grandkids. Or maybe because I’m an unfit mother who makes rash and dumb decisions. “I won’t be able to sleep at night knowing that you’re out there. Not with those twins waiting for you to come home. Marty has Stormi if something…it’s not ideal nor do I like to think about it, however, it’s there.”
“I understand,” I deadpan, raising my chin to keep from cowering from the reality of this situation.
“You’re the best hacker I know, and though you’ve taught Mills a thing or two, I don’t believe terminating you would be beneficial to B723. That’s why I’m demoting you. No field work, you’re still required to come in for meetings still like the rest of us. I’ll have to speak to Bishop first but—“
“Why?” I blurt.
“Haven’t you put that man through enough, Emmy?” Ledger’s voice is gentle but excessive with conviction. “Even a hacker can be traced back.”
I snort because I’d love to see someone try, but I clasp my hands tighter together and avert my gaze.
I can fight with the boys and bitch at Blue all day but Ledger is like banging your head against a brick wall. It’s gonna hurt, you’re not gonna win, and he’s not going to get hurt.
“If Bishop agrees to the terms, then we’re all set. You’ll work from home, perform all the technical things we may need you to do moving forward.”
“Commander, she’s a woman, not a child,” Marty counters sharply, coming to my rescue. “Bishop doesn’t own her.”
“Like you wouldn’t do the same damn thing with your wife,” Ledger snaps. “If that girl worked for me after you tortured her, I would’ve asked her if she wanted me to kick your sorry ass out. Now, shut up and grab him.” Marty hesitates and glances over at me.
“You can speak with him alone.” I rise from my chair and my faithful friend follows me. “I’ll only run my mouth while you two talk to me like I’m not even here.”
“Emmy,” Ledger emits. “You affect everyone here more than you know whether you think you do or not. You weren’t here to see the aftermath of your death. It opened my eyes more than I cared to have them. A second time and this one being actually real, he’ll never come back from that. You know it as well as I.”
The words out of his lips aren’t bullshit. They’re the ugly truth of the consequences if I’m somehow tracked and murdered.
Pivoting, Marty and I walk out without another word, finding Bishop leaned up against the wall like he was the day I was in Ledger’s office before.
His blue eyes catch mine immediately, but he doesn’t show any emotion other than he doesn’t want to be here. He strides towards Ledger’s office, and when I think he’s about to ignore and pass me, he stops by Marty and me.
Then said faithful friend runs his mouth.
“If you get her kicked out of B723,” Marty seethes between his teeth. “I will end your ass.”
“Scary,” Bishop deadpans flatly, peering down at me so severely that I think it’s going to cut through my composure. “You good, baby?”
I nod.
Bishop’s nostrils flare, and he meets Marty’s glare, but he doesn’t utter another word. Instead, he disappears behind Ledger’s door and softly closes it.
“I’m not waiting around,” I state. “You got a joint?”
Marty smirks and shakes his head. “Yeah, Mama, let’s go.” He wraps his arm around my shoulder and says, “Do you think Stormi would kick me out?”
I chuckle. “No.”
“Do you think Bishop will do it to you?”
“Not if he doesn’t want to get choked to death.”
What do you do when your girl is sitting at home on the sofa chair, leg propped up along the armrest while a chain whip drapes along her lap?
I’m not sure what your answer is, but mine is bending her over said chair and getting rid of all that sass that she’s built up in the past two hours for me.
I purposely waited that amount of time just for her to cool down. Ledger asking me to make the final decision was some 1880’s type shit however, I appreciate him looking after me and her.
“Waited up for me?” I hedge, tossing my keys on the side table near the hotel door. It took some convincing, but I got her to stay out of her condo until it was all cleaned up. I wanted her to come home with me to the cabin, but Hardy and Scarlett are there, and I didn’t want her to feel crowded. Furthermore, we haven’t spoken about where we’re going to live.
Perfect scenario, I’d like her to sell the condo of fucked up memories and move in with me. However, I come with my own baggage.
With a house full already, I have no fucking clue how to do this.
“Of course, I did,” she purrs, swinging her perched leg and clinking the chain along with it.