Wicked Ever After

by Shayla Black

  “Before you, she never needed to. She had never been in danger.”

  One-Mile couldn’t refute that, so he didn’t try. “I know you’ve always protected her. I respect that. But I promise you, I would lay down my life for her.”

  “I heard you tried last night.” The reverend pressed his lips together. “So did you come here to tell me how you see my daughter?”

  He didn’t want to make enemies with this man. Brea was the one who would suffer most, and he’d do anything to avoid hurting her. “No. I came to introduce myself, clear the air, and talk about the future.”

  “You’re very direct.”

  “In my line of work, I have to be.”

  “I don’t approve of your line of work. It should be up to God to decide when someone’s time is up.”

  One-Mile didn’t want to get in a theological argument with the preacher; he’d lose. But he needed the man to understand his world.

  “As a society, we’ve organized for war. We recognize that some enemy combatants target innocents as leverage. When these combatants become an eminent threat, someone with the will and the backbone is tasked with putting down the threat. I’m that someone. It’s a responsibility I take seriously. I have to live with the blood on my hands and the deaths on my conscience. But I can bear it to keep people like you, your fiancée, and Brea unharmed.” He raised a brow at the man. “Could you handle that responsibility?”

  Reverend Bell was mute, his expression considering. Then he sighed. “No.”

  “Without people like me, how many more lives would we grieve?”

  “Even one is too many,” the man admitted, though his tone said he didn’t like the logic or One-Mile’s job.

  “You don’t condemn Brea for ending Clara Montilla last night to save me, herself, and our baby, do you?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “She did what she had to.”

  At least they saw eye-to-eye on something. “I’ve come today because I want you to know that I love Brea more than anything. I never expected someone like her in my life. She stole my heart the moment I laid eyes on her. Nothing and no one has ever been more important to me. It was never my intention to disgrace her, you, or your church. I didn’t intend to get her pregnant, but I won’t say I’m sorry for it. I am sorry, however, that things outside of my control kept me from meeting you sooner and assuring you that I want to make Brea my wife and raise our family together. So I’ve come to ask for your blessing.”

  Brea’s father was silent for so long One-Mile started to sweat. But he forced himself to remain still, regulate his breathing, mute his panic, and meet the man’s direct gaze.

  “I know nothing about you, your character, your family, or your faith. How can you expect me to simply hand over my only daughter, whom I love with all my heart, to a stranger?”

  One-Mile had thought about this. “I could answer in one of two ways. Strictly being matter of fact? I’m here as a favor to you. I’ll do or say whatever it takes to make Brea my wife. I will never stop, never tire, and never give up. I want a life with love and laughter, compassion, and a reason to come home after what often feels like war. Brea wants that, too. With me. If you make her choose…not to be harsh, but you won’t win. So I’m here apologizing and willing to get down on one knee to ask for her hand. Mostly for her sake. But for yours, too.”

  The preacher didn’t like that answer. “And if I refuse, would you take her from me?”

  “Do you want her to deny what’s in her heart so she doesn’t leave you?”

  His face tightened. “Don’t manipulate me.”

  One-Mile held up his hands. “I’m just being honest. The other way of looking at this is, I want to pay you my respects. You’ve raised a remarkable woman. I admire and love Brea with my whole heart. As the man who wants to share her life, it’s my responsibility to ensure she has whatever she needs or desires.” He withdrew his phone, opened to his photos, and set the device in her father’s hands. “I own my home in Lafayette outright. The next ten pictures encompass the exterior and interior. She can redecorate however she wants.”

  The man flipped through the pictures with vague consideration but said nothing.

  “The next two pictures are screenshots of my bank balance and investment portfolio.”

  Reverend Bell kept flipping, his brows rising when he scanned the images that proved his seven-figure worth. “You’ve clearly saved.”

  “Virtually everything. I inherited some, and I’ve invested well.”

  “She doesn’t care about money.”

  One-Mile knew that. “She’s never even asked how much money I have, and I’ve never mentioned it. But I’m offering you proof that I can take care of her for your peace of mind.”

  “Materially, you can far better than I have.”

  And that obviously didn’t hold much weight with the good preacher. “I also understand Brea well enough to grasp that she values harmony. Cutter and I will have to bury the hatchet. He’s pissed at me for breaking protocol on a mission because I sensed a trap and I was right. But I’ll apologize, swallow my pride, and be the bigger man because I know what he means to her.”

  Brea’s father nodded, his expression slightly less guarded. “A great deal. He always has.”

  “That brings me to you. If we can’t get along, she’ll never be happy. That’s not something I can live with. So what do you need from me to make sure there’s no wedge between us? Name it. If it’s within my power, it’s yours.”

  “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to walk away and let her find someone else?”

  “Who does that benefit? Not me. Not Brea. Definitely not our son—”

  “Son?” He pressed his lips together. “I didn’t even know she was having a boy.”

  That tore Brea’s dad apart, and One-Mile softened. “She wanted to tell me first. We’re thrilled. I hope you can be, too.”

  The man sighed. “My grandson will need a positive male role model growing up.”

  “My son will need me.” Despite having no one to emulate, One-Mile would do his absolute fucking best to be a good dad. “If you think past your anger, my leaving wouldn’t benefit you in the long run, either. If you managed to guilt Brea into cutting me loose, she’d eventually resent you for it.”

  Reverend Bell exhaled deeply and closed his eyes in defeat. “I know.”

  At least he was man enough to admit it. “We’d like to start our lives together, sir.”

  “Jasper.”

  That was a good sign, right? “Jasper, the only thing keeping us apart now is you.”

  The man said nothing, but his face told One-Mile he saw the ugly truth for himself. “I’ll bet you’re a real bastard at work.”

  He smiled. “So I’m told.”

  “If someone had lined up a thousand men and told me that my daughter’s chosen mate was among them, you’re the last one I would have picked.”

  “If it’s any consolation, she took me completely by surprise, too.” Since he was finally getting somewhere, One-Mile inched forward on the sofa. “I know we’re not off to a good start. But you and I want the same thing: a happy Brea. Will you work with me?”

  Before Jasper could answer, the door crashed open, and Brea ran in, her long brown waves tumbling around her. On autopilot, One-Mile stood. Like every other time he set eyes on her, his heart thumped. But today, emotion clogged his throat. She was almost his. And she looked so beautiful he couldn’t stop staring.

  Vaguely, he was aware of Jasper watching him.

  “Hi, pretty girl,” One-Mile managed to scratch out.

  Her gaze fell on them and her eyes flared wide. “You’re here already?”

  Her father got to his feet. Together, they approached her. One-Mile hung back.

  “We’re just talking, sweetheart.” The preacher kissed her cheek and squeezed her as if he feared losing her. “Why don’t you join us?”

  She looked nervous, her flustered gaze darting back and forth between them as if sh
e’d half expected an argument or violence. “Sure.” She took in the empty table between them. “Before I sit down, coffee? Tea?” She sent him an apologetic glance. “We don’t have anything harder.”

  He waved her off. “I’m fine.”

  “Nothing for me,” her father said.

  “O-okay.” She set her purse and keys down, then sank to the sofa beside her father. “What did I miss?”

  “Pierce was apologizing that we hadn’t met previously.”

  “And?” Brea glanced tensely between them, as if she was braced for conflict.

  “Like your dad said, we’re talking.”

  “He asked me for your hand.”

  A smile crept across her face as she reached out, slipping her palm in his own. “And?”

  “We’re talking about that, too. But before he answers, I need to say something.” One-Mile took a deep breath. “You need to know everything before you decide if you truly want to marry me.”

  She stilled. “You’re going to tell me about your father?”

  He nodded, his gut in knots. “I won’t lie. I’ve avoided this because I didn’t want you to look at me like a monster.”

  “Pierce, I already know—”

  “You don’t.” He turned to Jasper. “I want you to hear this, sir, because I fully admit I’m far from perfect. But if you give your consent, I want you to know exactly the son-in-law you’ll be getting. I want your blessing to be real.” He grimaced. “And I only want to say this once.”

  The preacher nodded, his expression neutral, but his demeanor said it would probably be a cold day in hell.

  Yeah, he’d figured. The man thought he was a lunatic with bloodlust coursing in his veins. That there was a nonstop circus of violence in his head. That he fed his soul by stealing the life from others. Baring his past wasn’t going to help.

  But he had to do this for Brea.

  “Your daughter knows I was fifteen when I killed my father. She doesn’t know the circumstances.”

  Brea, bless her big heart, gripped his hand tighter. “I want to hear it all. I’ll be here for you, no matter what you say.”

  One-Mile wasn’t so sure about that. She wasn’t equipped to understand his father’s brand of filthy depravity. Nor was the preacher. But she deserved to know who and what she was getting in a husband. To keep her, he would gladly rip open every old wound and gouge out his fucking soul.

  And he prayed this wasn’t the last time she looked at him with love in her eyes.

  He squeezed her dainty hand one last time, then let go. They would either succeed or fail based on the next five minutes. “My mom died when I was a baby.”

  Brea nodded. “We’ve talked about having that in common.”

  The information had been more for Jasper’s edification than hers. But he went on. “Growing up, it was just me and my dad, except the summers I spent in Wyoming with my grandpa. If not for him, I probably would have ended up a sociopath. Because from the time I was about four, I knew something was wrong. Not just because I didn’t have a mom like the other kids. But because I spent a lot of my time alone.”

  Brea frowned. “You mean without him or…”

  “Alone. He eked out a living by fixing cars in the freestanding garage he built in our yard. Hell of a mechanic. I got maybe a tenth of his aptitude there. He could fix anything. He modified guns on the side, too.”

  “Is that where you learned to shoot?”

  “The basics.”

  One-Mile blew out another breath. He was nervous as fuck. Already he could tell this story would be a jumbled-ass mess. He’d never told it. Hell, he avoided thinking about it.

  “The rest”—he shrugged—“I picked up here and there. It’s not important. But my dad was always violent.”

  Brea held her breath. “Abusive?”

  He shook his head. “Not like that. Not when I was a little kid. He had a crappy temper. I knew when to run and hide. We had a lot of walls with holes in them.”

  Brea flinched. Her father shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

  Shit. He was just getting warmed up. “But he didn’t hit me. Mostly Dad was antisocial. He worked alone. He didn’t have friends. We didn’t know anyone in town. People who tried to be neighborly or lend a helping hand, he rebuffed.”

  Jasper raised a brow. “Cutter said you do the same at work.”

  He pulled at the back of his neck. “Yeah. Old habit. I should probably break it. Anyway, he’d work all day…and often go out all night. It wasn’t uncommon for me to wake up at three a.m. and be alone.”

  “He just left you?” Brea looked horrified. “A young child? By yourself?”

  “He told me I was a little soldier and to man up. So I did. He was gruff, but it wasn’t awful…until one of two things happened. He got drunk or he got laid. One inevitably led to the other. But whenever he got a girlfriend and she moved in, that’s when he became a real prick. If there was one thing my father was, it was a misogynist. God, he hated women. He wanted them, too. And he hated himself for wanting them. He never had the money for hookers. Everyone would have been happier if he had.”

  “That’s horrible! Why would you say that?” Brea sounded shocked. “It’s so dirty and impersonal and—”

  “Yeah, but it would have been less destructive. When he had a girlfriend, he had a pattern… He’d be alone for a few weeks, maybe a few months. Then he’d get the itch. He’d go out, get drunk, and come home with some woman. If he liked her opening-night ‘audition,’ he’d ask her to move in a week or two later. Most of them were all right. A few got freaked out by the idea of being a replacement mommy or something, so they didn’t stay long. Dad resented the hell out of me then. He never held back on all the things that were my fault. I’d made my mom fat and I’d made her sad. And I’d definitely been the reason she left us. That’s what he told me. Eventually, I found out he lied.”

  “Oh, Pierce…” Brea took his hand again, her big heart opening to spill compassion for him. She was willing to give him everything inside her, and he motherfucking hated to take from her, but right now he needed her fortitude.

  So he held her tight and squeezed…then let her go. He had miles to go before he could earn her touch again. “The women who didn’t seem to mind that Dad had a kid wore out their welcome eventually. Then they’d run into Dad’s temper. And his fists would come out. It was never pretty.”

  Brea looked horrified. “You saw him beat his girlfriends?”

  “More than once. I knew it was wrong, but I was just a kid, so I couldn’t stop it. But Dad was like a powder keg. I always knew when the explosion was coming, and I tried to tell them every damn time. Most didn’t listen.”

  “How did he not get arrested?”

  “He did a few times. But most of the women just left battered and never came back. Maybe they were ashamed. I don’t know.” He let out a breath. This was so fucking hard. “After they’d gone, I was usually sad. They were often the women who really tried. They read me bedtime stories and cooked. They were almost like a mom. It was nice while it lasted.”

  “Pierce…”

  He didn’t look at Brea. “It wasn’t all bad. My grandpa kept me normal and sane. Those summers with my mom’s dad…they were everything. He taught me about normalcy, self-discipline and control, anger management. And watching him with my grandma until she died of cancer taught me about love.” He shook his head, wishing like hell he could stop here. “I dreaded fall, hated every time Grandpa put me on a plane back home.”

  “Did you ever ask your dad if you could just stay?”

  “Sure. I was about eight. Matt and I were best friends. I loved the ranch. I liked the people and the big open spaces. But Dad said if I had too much of my grandparents coddling me that I’d turn into a pussy. I stopped asking because I knew if I didn’t, he’d never let me go again.” He turned to Jasper. “Sorry. I know my language sucks.”

  “Brea forewarned me.” The preacher didn’t sound amused…but he didn’t sound host
ile anymore. He was listening.

  One-Mile could work with that.

  “When I came home, Dad usually had a new woman. He liked them young; most were barely eighteen. It wasn’t so creepy when I was little because Dad wasn’t much older than they were. But by the time I was a teenager, he was in his thirties…” When both Brea and her dad grimaced, One-Mile had little hope the rest of this would go well. “The real shit started when puberty hit me. I shot up quick and I was built big. I had a full beard before I was fifteen. Most people thought I was a grown man, especially Dad’s girlfriends. He started introducing me as his little brother because otherwise I made him look old. And the girls started coming on to me.”

  She pressed a hand to her chest. “You didn’t.”

  Jesus, he didn’t want to continue.

  “I did. A lot.” He closed his eyes because if he saw her disappointment, he didn’t know if he could get out the ugliest parts. “I’m not going to candy-coat and I’m not going to lie. It was a lot like having my own live-in girlfriend. I was probably the only freshman in high school nailing a pretty girl every night.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “Did your dad know?”

  “Oh, yeah. He condoned it. Said it would make me a man.” He wouldn’t tell her about his first time now. He’d been thirteen and trembling when his father had shoved Katie, his then-girlfriend, into his room and announced that he was going out drinking. He’d told Katie to put her pussy to good use and left. She’d wanted to please the asshole. They both had. So they’d fucked.

  “He doesn’t sound like a good person or a good father. I pray for you,” Jasper offered.

  One-Mile had never been one to ask for divine assistance, but if it brought him any absolution, he’d take it. “Thank you.”

  “What happened?”

  He hated the way Brea’s voice shook and he wanted to reach out, touch her. He didn’t dare until he got this out and unless she said she wanted his touch again. “The summer before I turned sixteen, I got a girlfriend of my own. Allie was twenty. I’d lied and told her I was her age. Dad saw me out with her the night before I left for Wyoming that summer, but I brushed it off. They’d said a polite hello and that was it. But I didn’t hear from Allie much over the next few months. Then again, I was busy. She had a job. I hoped it was fine…but I worried what I’d find when I got home. I never imagined she was shacking up with my dad.”