by C. C. Piper
“One has a lot of tequila,” Mauricio said helpfully.
“Bourbon, actually,” I corrected. As if that mattered.
“Who is she?” Richard asked. “I wasn’t even aware you were seeing anyone.”
“I wasn’t.” I felt an urge to bang my head on the table. Repeatedly. “It just sort of happened. I met her at The Oleander. We started talking and hit it off.”
It sounded even more moronic when spoken out loud.
“So let me get this straight,” Richard began. I was going to catch so much shit over this. “You met a woman at a casino. You hit it off. Instead of asking her out on a date like a normal person, you eloped on the spot.”
I swallowed. My throat was dry. “Something like that.”
“Are you out of your fucking mind?”
“Succinctly put,” Mauricio said. I’d never hated him more.
“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” I blurted out. “Mauricio told me I should live a little, so I did.”
“He what?”
“Do not put this on me!” Mauricio cried, outraged and visibly terrified. Out of the three of us, Richard was the scary dad friend. He could make you feel small and guilty with one look. “I meant you should spend the weekend in Paris. Have a threesome. I didn’t mean go out and put a ring on the first hooker who grabs your attention!”
“She’s not a hooker,” I hissed out, wondering why I was defending her. For all I knew, she might very well be.
“Okay,” Richard said, as if doing his best to remain calm. I pictured him pinching his nose with his thumb and forefinger, the way he typically did whenever something truly exasperated him. “So I’m assuming she’s laying around your villa while you’re out making business deals?”
“Well…” I trailed off, at a loss on how to describe my sorry predicament.
“Oh, this is gonna be good,” Mauricio murmured.
For once he shut up when I scowled at him, but it was too late.
“What is it?” Richard prodded.
I cleared my throat. “The truth is, she… vanished.”
More silence from New York City. “She vanished.”
“The following morning,” I supplied.
“After your… ”
“Wedding ceremony.”
“You mean like at a justice of the peace?” Richard asked.
“More like at a local chapel.” I would admit to the whole Elvis thing when hell froze over. I couldn’t omit the next part, though. I took a deep breath. Might as well get this over with. “With fifty-thousand dollars.”
“Excuse me?”
I gave a half shrug he couldn’t see. “She opened my safe and took the money. When I woke up, she was gone. Along with my cash.”
“Damn it, Carter!” I cringed as Richard exhaled on the other side of the line, grateful for the distance between us. “Have you filed a report with the police?”
“No, I…” I didn’t want to involve the police. Or at least not unless I had to. Part of it was due to my own mortification, but part of it was I didn’t want to get Emma in trouble. There’d been something vulnerable about her and imagining her behind bars, despite what she’d done to me, made bile rise in my throat. “I’d rather not.”
There was a long pause. Then, Richard said something I wouldn’t have expected. “Okay, I think I can help.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I know someone who can find her. Someone discreet.”
Mauricio and I squinted at each other in confusion.
“How?” Mauricio asked. “We know nothing about her.”
“Do you have a name?”
“Emma Morris,” I said. “But I doubt that’s her real name.”
“Do you have a picture?”
“I… yes. I have a couple of selfies we took after the wedding.”
“Awwww,” Mauricio said.
Unsurprisingly, I ignored him.
“I can help you,” Richard repeated. He sounded rather certain. “Well, not me, per se. You see, there’s this… Everyone I know just calls it the club. They’re a secret organization. Really, it’s more about the head of the club. The leader. A woman called the Wish Maker. She was instrumental in me finding Chrissy. The Wish Maker and her organization specialize in a bit of everything.”
“Sounds sketchy,” Mauricio observed, and I had to agree.
“She’s good at what she does.”
“Doesn’t mean it’s not sketchy,” I pointed out.
“Look, the Wish Maker can do almost anything across the board. Want to find this Morris woman? She can help. Want your fifty-grand back? She can help. Want an annulment? She can help. If you’re looking to avoid law enforcement, she’s probably the only one who can rectify everything all at once.”
I thought about it. Richard had a point. I needed to remove myself from this marriage, and I couldn’t do that without having any clue as to where my wife might be.
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll talk to your Wish Maker.”
“I’m coming with you,” Mauricio stated.
“The Wish Maker won’t like that,” Richard warned. “She’ll only want to meet with the wisher.”
“Yeah, well. There’s no way James is going to meet some weird lady who calls herself ‘the Wish Maker’ on his own. So you tell your cult leader or whatever she is that there’ll be two of us,” Mauricio insisted.
I smiled despite myself. My best friend might be a bastard, but he was a loyal bastard.
Richard was quiet for a moment. “Fine.”
“Can you set up a meeting?” I asked.
Richard could and did.
Within seven days, the Wish Maker had found my missing bride.
4
Emma
A whole week later, I remained married. I suppose there were worse things than Nevada listing me as the spouse of the hottest guy I’d ever seen. Still, I loathed the fact that I’d been so idiotic that I hadn’t thought to come up with a fake identity. I kept slinking around fearful that a uniformed officer would come and put me in handcuffs, but so far it hadn’t happened.
Maybe I’d been right about James being so rich that the money I’d stolen hadn’t even registered as a blip on his radar.
I’d considered moving in the middle of the night, but moving expenses were no joke. Thanks to Evan, I had no savings, and we had no living family to help. Not to mention that I’d been so focused on working and going to school to get my degree (on top of keeping my brother on the straight and narrow) that the friends I’d once hung out with had long ago abandoned me. I was stuck.
Absently, I sketched out the layout of the room before me. Sketching usually relaxed me when I was upset, but it wasn’t helping as much as I needed it to today. I glanced down at my creation, gratified to see how accurate the perspective looked rendered in nothing but paper and ink. Too bad my artistic streak, while useful in my career, couldn’t do more to solve life’s larger problems.
The worst thing about this entire mess was I wasn’t quite sure it’d been worth it. Evan said he’d taken care of everything, but sadly, I knew I couldn’t trust my brother. His addictions had gotten the better of him several times over the past few years. I loved him and always would, but I felt more responsible for him than trust. Now all I could do was pray he was telling me the truth.
Still, over the past week, Evan had seemed to toe the line. I hadn’t seen him high on anything worse than marijuana and he had been home at a decent hour every night he’d gone out. The previous evening, I’d even come back from a client meeting in the city to find my brother in the kitchen, making homemade lasagna. I’d been so shocked I’d almost burst into tears.
Maybe he was finally turning his life around after all.
Evan also offered to make dinner tonight, which was why I found myself stepping out of my beat-up ’95 Jeep Cherokee and about to enter the grocery store.
“I’ll make roast chicken and potatoes,” Evan had announced proudly. “Maybe I’
ll even throw in some string beans.”
Of course, we had nothing of the sort in the house. I tended to neglect healthy grocery shopping every time I had a deadline approaching, like the one I was facing now.
I’d begun to traverse the parking lot when I noticed two men in my peripheral vision. A blond man and a dark-haired one approaching me from opposite sides. They wore expensive tailored suits and strode up so briskly that my body tensed.
I briefly thought about trying to defend myself, but all I had were my keys. While I might be able to gouge an eye out, I felt more inclined to run. Yet, I had a feeling running wouldn’t be overly helpful either. It wasn’t like I could get very far.
“Ms. Morris,” The blond man spoke as soon as they flanked me. He reminded me strongly of a Ken doll. It only added to the surreal quality of my circumstances. “Follow us, if you please.”
I blinked up at him. “And if I refuse?”
Blondie sighed heavily. I wondered if they had flipped a coin beforehand to decide who was going to do the talking. “Please, Ms. Morris. Don’t make things difficult.”
I crossed my arms and let out a huff. “Fine. Where to?”
They led me to a more isolated area of the parking lot where a sleek town car was waiting, black as sin in both paintwork and windows. Blondie opened the door to the rear and I reluctantly slid in.
Once seated, I twisted to find a man staring at me from the other side of the backseat.
James Carter.
My legal husband and the man I’d stolen fifty-thousand dollars from. His fathomless blue eyes seemed wary of me, making my heart ache for whatever reason. I’d forgotten how chiseled his jaw was as well as how attractive he was overall. And if my future hadn’t just been thrown into absolute uncertainty, that might’ve made me ache too.
As it was, I had more important details to attend to.
“Where are you taking me?” I demanded once my brain unfroze and allowed me to communicate.
“I’ll be the one asking the questions,” he said, voice deeper than I remembered. It snuck under my skin and did things to me it had no business doing.
But he didn’t ask any questions. Instead, he turned away.
For the complete duration of the ride, he maintained his silence. His gaze did flit over me occasionally, but I kept my eyes firmly on the tinted window as if studying the scenery passing by. Yet, the scrutiny of his gaze felt like an electrical current in the air.
I had no idea where we were going and I was locked in a car with a man I didn’t know. A man I was married to. A man I owed all those Ben Franklins to.
A man who was probably exceedingly pissed off.
But I wasn’t nearly as terrified as common sense would dictate me to be.
I should’ve been scared to death, but for some reason, I knew on a fundamental level that James wouldn’t harm me. The vibe I received from him wasn’t violent or abusive. Maybe it was because of the crazy but magical night James and I had spent together.
I remembered the first moment our eyes locked across the room, the undeniable awareness I had of him. I couldn’t forget how my insides had sizzled with anticipation when he’d meandered over to me. Him closing the distance had felt like an out-of-body experience. His humor had captivated me as we talked the night away, his touch warm and kind. It’d reached me in ways I hadn’t been reached in a long time.
Too long of a time.
As we drove toward our mysterious destination, every one of his glances made my skin buzz with heat. I couldn’t stop thinking about how his lips felt on mine once we’d been pronounced husband and wife. I’d been a few degrees beyond tipsy—and James had been a few degrees beyond that—but that moment stood out with stark, unavoidable clarity.
Along with the make out session we had shared in the car back to his impressive villa.
James Carter kissed with an intensity and dedication that captured my full attention. He’d breathed life into my blood, into each of my cells. Every touch of his lips, every flick of his tongue was a searing waltz that made my body yearn for more. A tango I could trust him to take the lead on and would’ve willingly danced with him all night long.
In fact, I had a sinking suspicion that I might already have.
I was only slightly ashamed to admit I would’ve liked to experience a few of those kisses now, even as I was being transported God knows where in what could easily be a murder car.
I turned my head enough to hazard a glimpse in his direction. He was watching me. When our gazes met, he didn’t look away. I did, though. My heart beating a mile a minute in my chest with an emotion I couldn’t name.
More than anything, I wished he would say something. But he didn’t, and I was too apprehensive to goad him.
Not for the first time, I wondered how I’d gotten myself between such a rock and a hard place. It would’ve been easy to blame Evan, but the truth of the matter was he’d never asked me to do what I’d done. To commit a felony on his behalf.
I leaned my forehead against the cool glass, heaving a sigh that resounded way too loudly in the eerie stillness.
“I’m not going to hurt you, you know,” James said, his voice soft as the car came to a stop.
What was I supposed to say to that? Thank you? Or, Kudos for not taking the law into your own hands?
A minute later, Blondie opened my door and I stepped out. I was surprised to find that both the men and James allowed me to move unhindered. His bodyguards—assuming that’s what they were—didn’t crowd me, and James continued to respect my personal space.
I couldn’t describe what this was. Did they think of it as apprehending me as a criminal or was it a kidnapping? The only thing I knew for sure was that the lines had blurred. Nothing about any of this was black and white.
I was less surprised to discover I was back at James’ house in the desert. You could see the various casinos and other buildings from this vantage point. That morning I robbed him blind, I’d caught sight of the gleaming view on my way to his office safe.
The wild series of events from that fateful night flashed before my eyes. My stomach tied itself in knots, palms sweaty with nervous regret. Shame rose sharp and hot within me as I followed James inside.
I didn’t resent helping my brother, but what if I’d been too rash? Was it possible that I could’ve found a better, less offensive solution? Maybe I’d missed a more legal and ethical answer that wouldn’t have started with an accidental marriage and ended with theft.
Frankly, I couldn’t decide which of the two was worse.
5
James
I led Emma toward my dining room table. Not only was it free of the memories of our time spent together, but this room was the safest place in the house to have a serious discussion. I didn’t trust myself anywhere else. If my runaway bride lounged on a couch, splaying out those mile-long legs as she crossed one knee over the other, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to do anything but ogle them. At least the opaque tabletop would hide such temptation from my sight.
The image of those legs, tan and bare as they peeked through the slit of her dress came to mind, and my balls tightened at the thought.
Shit. Focus, Carter.
Despite Mauricio’s, “Seriously, mijo, why aren’t you more furious right now?” and Richard’s demand of, “Keep your eye on the prize, James,” any righteous indignation I might’ve felt had now been overwhelmed by her presence.
While I’d tried to stay outraged at her behavior, the connection I’d felt toward her kept overriding my intent. Even after everything that had happened, I remained drawn to her like a moth to the flame.
It was insane. And apparently, so was I.
Once we’d collected her, I told myself I should probably stop sneaking glances at her like some schoolboy with a crush. I kept trying to figure out just what was it about Emma that transformed me into a blithering idiot unable to make good choices.
Though all the blood leaving my brain every time I inhaled her citru
sy sweet perfume might have something to do with it.
The men sent by the Wish Maker trailed us until we reached the room.
“We’ll be waiting outside by the car, Mr. Carter,” the tall blond one, Charlie, informed me.
The dark, dangerous-looking one was called Kevin, but he had yet to say a word except for the initial introduction.
“That won’t be necessary,” I said. “Why don’t you go into the kitchen? There’s coffee.”
Charlie seemed surprised for a moment, but gave a curt nod. “Thank you, sir. That’s much appreciated.”
The reason I’d dismissed them was because it made me uneasy to have them around. Yet Richard had vouched for this Wish Maker woman, so I needed to trust in his judge of character. Especially since my own judge of character was shockingly useless.
The sun was beginning to set, bringing fire to every juniper tree and barrel cactus in sight. It would’ve been beautiful if I hadn’t been feeling so off-kilter.
“Take a seat,” I said to Emma, motioning at the set of six cushioned chairs. She chose the farthest one from me. Rather than challenging her on this, I sat down without complaint.
It annoyed me to know that we could’ve been watching the sunset in Hawaii—or better yet, making love on every surface available—while in the midst of a lengthy honeymoon. Instead, here we were, trapped in this awkward and unpleasant predicament.
It was only then that I understood something. Underneath my attraction to the woman sitting before me, I did feel some amount of anger. Emma Morris had done more than steal money from me. She’d stolen my dream of a satisfying and bliss-filled life. One where I could’ve woken up beside her every morning and slept spooned next to her each night. One with steamy moments of consuming passion instead of the mountain of disappointment I felt now.
Even as these thoughts entered my head, I felt like a sap for having them. I didn’t know this woman. In fact, what I did know of her should’ve sent me running for the hills.