The Misters Series (Mister #1-7)

by J. A. Huss

  The Exuma Cays is an archipelago of mostly uninhabited islands just east of the Bahamas and they are breathtakingly beautiful. Especially now, in late summer when the temperatures are just thinking about cooling down, but winter isn’t yet here.

  I vacation here often. In fact, the first time I ever came to the Exumas was with Victoria.

  Is that a coincidence? Is anything a coincidence these days?

  Vlad yells over his shoulder, startling me out of my mood. “We’re landing.”

  And just as I look out the window and get a glimpse of the neighboring islands, he drops altitude and my stomach sinks.

  Victoria laughs, and her fucking hand is back on his shoulder.

  I grit my teeth again just as we touch down on the water and he makes for the beach.

  Calm, Weston. Be calm, dude.

  I know Victoria is doing everything she can to push my buttons, but Wallace is here. I’m going to get to him first. I don’t care what kind of crush he had on my girlfriend back in college, he has to know I’m the more legitimate business.

  I’ve heard the rumors about Victoria’s company. I’ve heard that she’s laid off her entire office staff to make the bills. I’ve heard she’s about to lose everything. I’ve heard that she’s been placing people in jobs that don’t even make a hundred grand a year.

  I can’t imagine how little she makes off those kinds of contracts. I’ve been making seven-plus-figure deals since I was twenty-three. I’d retire if I had to go back to that kind of hustle again. That would be my signal to call it quits. Get a new five-year plan.

  Their laughing continues as the door is opened and Victoria makes a show of slipping off her shoes before jumping down onto the pontoon and splashing into the clear, knee-deep water. It’s not just turquoise. This water is so many shades of blue and green, it makes me lift my sunglasses up so I can see it without the filter.

  I roll my pants up to my knees and slip my shoes and socks off, holding them in my hand as I jump down and walk up to the beach where Vlad and Victoria seem to be having regrets about parting.

  “So,” I say, bringing Vlad’s attention back to me. “I think I’ll be done here in an hour. Can’t you just wait?”

  “Wait?” Vlad laughs. “No. I already told you. If you want a ride back, I’ll be here late afternoon.”

  “That’s no problem, Vlad,” Victoria says, blinking her eyes at him. “I’m sure I’ll have this contract wrapped up in no time and then I’ll just work on my tan for the rest of the day.”

  “Sounds good, sweetheart. Then we can get that drink when we get back to Miami.”

  “Sounds like a great time,” Victoria purrs. I wait for her to grab his shirt collar and pull him in for a dramatic goodbye kiss. But she doesn’t, just turns away, looking back over her shoulder with a smile.

  Vlad and I both watch her make her way towards a track in the sand that leads up a dune and then he turns to me.

  “So you don’t have a problem with that, do you? Us having drinks later? I mean, she said you two were never serious and you broke up years ago.”

  “Did she?” Bitch. “Well, don’t worry about me. I’m immune to her charms. But you, buddy, I worry about. She’s got you wrapped around her pinky finger.”

  “Hey.” Vlad smiles as he walks off into the water, ignoring the fact that his pants are soaking wet up to the knees. “Don’t you worry about me, man. I can handle anything.”

  He gives me a little salute and slams his door closed as he starts the engine.

  I don’t bother watching him take off. I head up the beach by way of the path to catch up with Victoria. I’m not letting her get the jump on Wallace. And if she thinks she’s going to play dirty by using her female assets on him, well, I’ll just have to use my male assets on her.

  Chapter Seven - Victoria

  I know he’s jealous. Weston Conrad might be a lot of things, but he is not subtle. And I know he’s jealous because flirting with other men has always been my fallback with him when he’s difficult. There is no way he’s going to give up this contract to me, but it doesn’t matter. By the end of this day, Mr. Corporate will only have one thing on his mind. Me. And how I won.

  I smile into the wind as I walk up the sand dune and come to higher ground. We landed on the deserted side of the cay, but that’s not uncommon here. Most of these little islands are small and uninhabited. Even the inhabited ones, like this one, have little to nothing in the way of buildings and amenities.

  If you want a resort experience you don’t come to a place like Sandcastle Cay. You go to the main islands and stay in a real hotel.

  Still, when I shade my eyes with my hand to block out the sun, I can’t see any structures at all.

  “Hey,” Weston calls from behind me. “Look, Victoria. I know you think you’re going to play hardball with me today, but—”

  “Wait,” I say, putting up my hand to shut him up. “Where are we?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, look, Weston. There’s no buildings over there. That’s the other side of the island and there’s no buildings.”

  “What?” he says, looking around. “There have to be buildings. Look,” he says, pointing to the ridge off to the left. “There’s a roof. It’s this way.”

  We start walking, both of us holding our shoes in our hands, and Weston continues to talk. “Whatever you need, Victoria, I’ll help you. But you’re not taking this contract.”

  “I don’t want your charity. I can get this contract all on my own. I don’t need you, West.”

  “No,” he says with a sigh. “No, you’ve never needed anyone.”

  “Don’t get all broody with me, Mr. Conrad. I’m not playing your games again. Let’s just agree that we both get a shot. We’re both here, right? So we both get a shot to make our case and then Wallace can decide.”

  “Whatever. But you know he’ll never sign with you. You have no contacts. He’s got no reason to think you’ll be able to pull this off.”

  “It’s guaranteed, Weston.”

  “Is it? How do you know Liam hasn’t hired other headhunters, hmm? Why would he hire the two of us? When he knows I can deliver?”

  “Maybe you can’t deliver?” I snap. “Obviously he doesn’t have complete faith in you, Weston. If he did, I wouldn’t be here.”

  “How did you get here?” he asks. “I know you have no connections in Miami. Not like I do.”

  “I’m resourceful, West. You, of all people, should know that.” We reach the top of another ridge and both of us go silent for a moment.

  “Where the fuck is everyone?” he asks.

  I turn and look around. There is a building. It’s not big and it’s not extravagant—they never are out here. But there’s no people. “Are we on the right cay?”

  “We better be on the right fucking cay,” West says. “I’ll kill that motherfucker if he dropped us off on the wrong goddamned island.”

  “OK, well, if we are on the right island, then where is everyone? They can’t be inside. And there’s no boats? No planes? Just what the hell is going on?”

  “You know what?” West asks.

  “What?” I say, starting to feel a little creeped out. We are in the middle of the Caribbean Sea, on a deserted island, and might be in the wrong place.

  “I’m starting to think you set this up. Did you tell that pilot to drop us at the wrong island? Are you sending someone else in to talk to Wallace five islands over?” West whirls around, looking at all the nearby cays. There’s plenty of them. We could probably swim to four, at least, that’s how close they are. But for what purpose? They all appear to be deserted too.

  “Weston,” I say. “I’m sure you know by now that my headhunting business is on the verge of insolvency. So cut your shit and don’t make me angry. I don’t have the manpower to send someone else to do my job.”

  “Your father is still involved. I keep track, Victoria. I keep track of every one of my competitors.”

  “We
ll, then you’d know that my father is not doing well and the last thing I’d ask him to do is to come all the way out here and risk his health so I can play games with you.” I whirl around and point my finger in his face. “So don’t fuck with me. Why are we the only people on the island?”

  He slaps my hand away and drops his shoes. “Don’t point at me. I don’t like it. You know I don’t like it because we’ve fought about that little move hundreds of times. So don’t fucking point at me.”

  I rifle through my purse and get out my phone. Of course, there is no service out here. “That’s great. Now we’re stuck here all day and Wallace Arlington is somewhere else. Who the hell gave you this information?”

  “What do you mean ‘who gave me?’ Where did you get your information?”

  Shit.

  “Victoria?”

  Fuck.

  “Victoria?” He’s getting mad now. “Who told you to be at that plane this morning?”

  “Who told you?” I say. It’s not clever and it’s not much of a deflection. But I have nothing but the truth. And the truth will piss him off.

  “A very good friend. A very reliable friend.”

  “I guess he’s not so reliable, is he?”

  “Who said it was a he?” West growls.

  “Um…” Dammit. Think, Victoria. You can handle this overgrown child. You did it for years. “Of course it’s a he, Weston. You’d never take the word of a woman.”

  “Oh, you’re going with that? Really?”

  “You’ve always been a caveman. So don’t even deny it. How many women do you do business with, Mr. Corporate?”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “I’ve earned the right,” I snap back. “If anyone can call you that, it’s me.”

  “I do business with whomever is required. And hundreds of them are women. So don’t push your little feminist agenda on me, honey.”

  “Honey?” I laugh. “OK, you’re on your own, Corporate. I’m going down to that building to see if they have a radio.”

  “Well, if you looked at the roof,” he says, keeping pace with me as we walk down the overgrown path, “there’s an antenna, so they do.”

  “Are you going to pull the big, strong man routine on me again? If so, save your breath. I’m not in the business of playing damsel in distress. And the antenna could be obsolete. I won’t know until I see for myself. Unlike you,” I say, looking over at him, “I don’t jump to conclusions.”

  “I didn’t need to jump, Victoria. I saw it all with my own eyes.”

  “Oh, fuck you. I won that Fullerton contract, too. Fair and square.”

  “Fair? Square? Hardly.” He laughs. “You slept with me and then cheated me out of a contract. I can forgive you for a lot of things, Victoria, but stealing from me isn’t one of them. I gave you anything you wanted, everything you needed and you shit all over me.”

  “I told you back then, it was delivered to your apartment with my name on it. It was for me, Weston. Not you!”

  “Liar,” he mumbles. “We weren’t living together at that time. It was a very convenient one-night stand for old times’ sake. And you just happened to be there when the courier came and you signed for my package and took it. Seven million dollars, Tori. That’s what I lost on that deal.”

  Fuck him. Just fuck him. He wants to bring up the past? I’m happy to bring up all the little things he seems to have conveniently forgotten.

  “You will not win, Mr. Corporate. You will not. Because I’m the one who always wins when it comes to us.”

  He stops walking and I keep going. But before I step off the path to make my way down the hill, I look back. He’s about twenty yards behind me, standing still. His hair is tousled and messy. His hands are fists, like he’s really angry. And his face. That handsome face, impassive. Because that’s how he rolls. He shuts down the minute he feels challenged.

  “You win because I let you, Tori. And do you know why I always let you win?”

  “Let me?” I snort. “Please.”

  “Because I loved you. I loved you, but all you ever saw was a ticket. A ticket out of the prison you locked yourself in. And I’m telling you right now, Victoria Arias, for the hundredth fucking time, I’m nobody’s ticket but mine.”

  Chapter Eight - Weston

  The most ironic thing about Victoria Arias is her refusal to need anyone. Because she’s always been needy. And I’m kinda lying about the whole ticket thing. I like being needed. Most men do. But the thing I hate is the fact that she refuses to admit she needs me. She’s always been that way. Always.

  She doesn’t wait for me to catch up, just runs down the hill, that long dark hair flying in the wind again.

  I sigh and pick up my shoes, then follow her down to the little building. How the hell did things get so fucked up? Last night this was a sure thing. Twenty-four hours ago I thought this contract was a retainer.

  Now I’m even farther away from nailing this down than I was when Liam said I had to compete. Wallace Arlington is probably hundreds of miles away. Hell, maybe Mysterious set me up? He’s always been weird. Maybe he’s working for someone else these days? How would I know? He barely gives us Misters the time of day. And despite helping out with Nolan’s little predicament, he hasn’t been around much as far as I can tell.

  Maybe he and Match have some kind of business going, but who really trusts Match, either? He doesn’t even have a girlfriend. And the fucker runs a dating site. What kind of dating site mogul has no significant other?

  That little fact has been eating away at me for a while now. I just don’t know what to make of it. Add in all the hush-hush shit that went down back when we were arrested, and that guy, Five, whoever he was. I don’t know, but I do know he was dangerous. Like Mysterious kind of dangerous. He just walked in like he was some kind of king and took over.

  Do this, do that.

  No one knows how to work the legal system like that unless they have experience doing it. And the guy was probably not much older than I am now. So what kind of shit was he into? What kind of life was he part of that he knew so much?

  Granted, his advice was all solid. But it still bothers me. Match still bothers me. Where did he pick up a friend like that? I mean, Match was only eighteen years old when we were charged.

  And I’ve looked into his family. I have the family histories of all the Misters memorized, even Mysterious’. And that was not easy to come by, considering he’s the illegitimate son of a big-time Hollywood movie star on one side and the blue-blood heir of a one-hundred-fifty-year-old Kentucky breeding farm on the other.

  But Match’s family history comes off as very blue-collar. Custom motorcycles. And a reality show a while back. Hell, he still lives in Colorado where he grew up. Perfect lives in Colorado now too, but that wasn’t by design. It just happens to be where the headquarters to his family company is.

  And that Five guy was anything but blue-collar. He reeked of money and breeding. So where did that connection come from?

  I don’t know. And I don’t need to care about it right now. My only concern is radioing for that pilot to get his ass back here and pick us up. Get us somewhere with service so I can call Mysterious up and ask him just what the fuck.

  This Wallace Arlington contract is the pinnacle of everything I’ve been doing for the past fifteen years. I’m there. I am so close I can practically taste it.

  And it’s slipping away. Everything feels like it’s slipping away.

  When I get to the building I realize it’s more of a house. There’s a lot of windows and I can see inside as I walk to the door and pull it open.

  Victoria is sitting at a kitchen island, her head in her hands.

  “What’s up?” I ask. Because I know that means she’s frustrated.

  “It doesn’t work.”

  “The radio?” I say, dropping my shoes at the front door. “Let me look at it. I’m good with electronics. Maybe I can—”

  “You can’t, Weston. It’s smashed.” />
  “Smashed?”

  Victoria is pointing to the counter across from where she’s sitting, and when I step a few paces to the side I see that, yes, there is a radio, and yes, it is smashed to bits on the counter. “Who the fuck would do that?”

  “Someone who doesn’t want us to be anywhere but here today, West.”

  West. She almost never calls me West. It’s like me calling her Tori. Reserved for intimate moments.

  “Something is wrong,” she says.

  Or vulnerable ones.

  “Why do you say that?” I ask, walking up to the island and taking a seat next to her. She smells good. She always smells good. Always something flowery, too. Jasmine or honeysuckle. Gardenias or roses.

  Today she smells like something else, though. The one I always preferred. It’s fitting. Her eyes are violet, her shirt is lavender, and her scent is lilac. She is purple.

  And right now those eyes… they are stuck. On me. The past. The present.

  Why is she here?

  “Because we are in the wrong place.”

  I get up and go into the kitchen, pulling open cupboards. Empty. I open the fridge. Empty. “Fucking great.”

  “Look,” Victoria says, leaning over the island and lifting up the tap. “Water. At least we have water. That Vlad guy will be back tonight. So as long as we stay inside and hydrated, we’ll be fine.”

  “Assuming he comes back.”

  “Why wouldn’t he come back?”

  I’m sorry I said it because Victoria’s eyes get wide with concern. “Never mind. He will.”

  She goes silent and I know she won’t forget those words. It’s going to haunt her all day. She will dwell, and fret, and work herself up into a blind obsession.

  Because that’s the kind of girl Victoria Arias is.

  Wild. It’s her default setting.

  Victoria taps her nails on the countertop and I can’t help but look at them. Yesterday they were periwinkle, but today they are the lightest shade of purple imaginable. So light, they are almost white.

  “So…” she says.

  “So…” I say.