Wrong For Me

by Meagan Brandy

  I should have fucking followed my gut, but I had to play it cool, just to be on the safe side, until I had some answers. Answers I still don’t have.

  I know my wife … and she’s not the sharing kind.

  “Lie back on the bed, Marissa,” I demand, pretending to take off my watch as I slip my hand in the drawer, but before I can get my fingers inside, the chill of cold metal hits the back of my head, and I squeeze my eyes shut.

  Fuck.

  I fucking knew it.

  “Don’t bother trying to get your hand in there. The knife’s gone. So is the gun that was taped to the bottom of the nightstand, the bat that was just casually lying in the closet, and sad you didn’t notice, but the glass has been removed from all the frames on the walls.” The familiar click rings when she cocks the gun, letting me know that she’s ready to go at any moment. “You’ve really slipped, dear husband. Now”—the metal leaves my skull—“walk over to the far-left corner, turn to face me, and plant your hands against it.”

  I do as she says.

  When I face her, she grins, shifting the gun to rub at her temple. I glance from it to her.

  She smiles wider and inspects it herself. “Found it in your whore’s room along with a few other hidden weapons. Gotta say, took me all week to go through the house with the metal detectors. Seems Trick Rivera and his skanky daughter were quite paranoid.” Her eyes narrow. “Any idea why they’d be so paranoid?”

  I drop my head back against the wall, keeping my face blank. “How ’bout you tell me what you think you know, and we go from there?”

  She wrinkles her nose, shaking her head back and forth. “That’s not going to work for me, baby. See, I don’t have much time.”

  My brows dip, and she laughs lightly.

  “Daddy is on his way, and he’s reeeal mad at you. But don’t worry; I won’t let him touch you. I’ve already told him that you’re mine to do with as I please.” Her stare hardens, and the devil’s daughter shows herself. “The whore though is his to keep. I promised to let her live. Personally, I think it’s a bit dirty that he wants the body of the girl his daughter’s husband has been inside, but that’s his choice.”

  I wanna rip her head off, but I need more information, so I say nothing.

  My eyes slide to the door and back to her.

  “You’re thinking she’ll walk by and hear us, might even burst in at any minute and save your sorry ass?” Marissa stands tall, the gun now pointed at my dick. “Not happening. My plan has worked far too well for that. I knew she’d be so desperate to follow me in here tonight, just like I knew she was more than the pawn in your dirty little heart, you’d never let anything real happen. She thinks we’re fuckin’ like animals. No way in hell will she come out of that room tonight.” She drops onto the edge of the mattress.

  When I give her nothing but a bored stare, her eyes twitch.

  “I came here against Daddy’s orders, you know. He believed in you, said it was all ‘part of the plan, but a little something told me to make the trip and surprise you. Daddy always thinks he knows best, but I knew it seemed too easy, too ... clean. I mean, I know you’re good with words, but I found it hard to believe you showed up here and got your in with Blaze ... just like that. So I snooped, and imagine my surprise, finding out the little boyfriend’s last name wasn’t the one listed in the file you built us on him. And to learn he went by the name Daniels?” She lightly shakes her head. “Bold move, Alec. We could have found you out months ago based on that alone.”

  “How did you find out?”

  “Guess Trick was a bit of a pack rat. Found the girl’s old notebooks and drawings in the garage, nothing but pink hearts and flowers and Mrs. Rowan Daniels.”

  She laughs when my mouth forms a hard line. “God, you must really be whipped for a ten-year-old girl’s scribble to get under your skin.” She tilts her head, and then her eyes light up. She straightens. “Oh! I almost forgot to tell you. Oakley has all the answers in her gym bag. I’ve already read them, so I know the entire truth and all about this mysterious Blaze you were supposed to be infiltrating. She must have found the paperwork at the academy because I searched every inch of this place and found nothing. Now, all the evidence against my family will burn with this shitty house.”

  I take a step forward, and her arm lifts, pointing the gun directly between my eyes.

  “What do you mean, burn with the house?”

  “Duh, silly. Same way you burned Daddy’s warehouse to the ground. By ‘accident.’ He doesn’t know about that part yet, by the way.” She winks, her other hand coming up to support the pistol better, her lids lowering as she tightens her aim. “No one plays me, Alec. You’re dead. But how about one more little surprise for you to part with, hmm?”

  I hold my hands out wide, more than ready to let her shoot me, knowing Oakley will hear it and at least have a chance to attempt an escape. If my dying keeps her from being captured, tortured, and raped by Marissa’s bastard of a father, I’d be happy to go right here, right now.

  “I slipped a little paper of my own in between the pages, the contract you signed—you know, the one where you accepted a two-hundred-fifty-thousand-dollar payment to play executioner?”

  When my nostrils flare, she giggles.

  “Best part? You’ll die before she has a chance to ask for the truth, so she’ll go on alone, if the little wannabe Daniels brother doesn’t swoop in to keep her warm at night, thinking her baby daddy killed her daddy.”

  The vile look in her eyes mixed with the sick satisfaction that makes her lips twitch have my breath locking in my throat.

  “The fuck you just say?”

  “That’s right, dear. Your whore?” She tilts her head, reaching into her pocket to pull out a small blue plastic stick. “She’s pregnant.”

  I dart forward, ready to take her ass out, determined to make it out of this room … but the bitch pulls the trigger.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Oakley

  Tears fall from my eyes, bleeding into the words on the cream-colored paper in front of me.

  I’m on file number five of what I’ve realized are all records of the active jobs.

  This one is titled Oakley. The objective? Protection.

  It’s dated two years ago, the day before my eighteenth birthday.

  The day Alec disappeared.

  Only, according to these papers, he didn’t disappear. He took a job far from his family in a new, scary place with people he didn’t know. Alec forced his way into the life of a man my father had been paid to ruin. Alec said he went in undercover, but it was more than that. He took on an entirely new life.

  Turned out, the man Alec told me about, who had murdered that little girl and gotten away with it, was looking to pass his torch at the top just before everything went down. The timing was a happy coincidence, as my dad needed an inside eye to find out what they knew or were searching for in regard to Blaze, just as Alec mentioned before. So, Alec went in, stronger and braver than the rest, and earned the coveted spot.

  According to my dad’s notes, it didn’t take long for Alec to be seen and sought out by this family. But, before he could slide into the higher role, he had to prove himself to the man on a deeper level.

  His first test was strength.

  He was given a series of jobs to complete, which he did without a hitch. My dad gave no details of what those had entailed, but I can only imagine.

  The second was to prove his power of manipulation.

  Apparently, in the world this man lives in, outsiders can’t come in and take over at the top. They have to be tied to the family.

  Alec’s second task was to trick the man’s very own daughter into falling in love with him.

  His daughter, Marissa Murphy.

  And the third?

  To murder Patrick “Trick” Rivera, my father, with the promise of any evidence that might arise being destroyed, just as it was when it came to the little girl’s murder trial.

  Alec
was sent back here to find what this family had failed to on their own, to find the evidence against Marissa’s family and murder my dad. The papers I stupidly delivered to her feet tonight.

  Marissa’s words make sense now. I’m the job he can’t fail, the final piece in their plan, a prize they plan to keep.

  This is some real next-level antihero shit.

  And why does her piece-of-shit name, Marissa Murphy, sound so familiar?

  God, this is too much for me today.

  My head starts to spin, too much to process, too many uncertain thoughts and questions running through my mind.

  I hop to my feet, the folders scattering as I do, papers falling out left and right.

  Power is dangerous. What if the authority got to Alec’s head? Maybe he wants the back end, criminal style life this family is offering him at the expense of mine. Maybe money and power do rule over morality.

  My stomach starts to turn, so I drop onto my bed, closing my eyes a moment as a dizzy spell hits. I reach across my comforter until I find my phone and throw my eyes open.

  I unlock it and hover over Rowan’s name but pause.

  Tears spear my eyes, and I drop my head back a moment.

  This is insane and not something I can tell him over the phone. I stand and move to pick up the paperwork, noticing a sheet of paper that doesn’t match the rest.

  I quickly rush to pick it up, scanning over the document, seeing the terms my dad outlined for his own murder contract in his notes, matching the exact words on here.

  This is the actual contract.

  My hand falls, my head springing left to glare at my bedroom door and then back to my closet.

  Son of a bitch.

  She had to be in my room.

  I drop the paper, bringing my hands up to fold them over my head in thought.

  The only way my dad could have known about his very own murder for hire was if Alec was being honest with him, sharing all details, as he was instructed.

  More tears fill my eyes in that moment, and confusion like I’ve never felt consumes me.

  If Alec is good, who killed my dad? Would he have gone that far to protect me?

  Would my dad have asked him to?

  I cover my mouth as a sob escapes.

  In a heartbeat, he would. They both would.

  I pace back and forth, taking a deep breath to try to calm my nerves. I close my eyes and picture Alec’s face. The curve of his lips, the arch of those dark brows, the bright hidden behind eager, dark eyes when he turns playful when it’s just the two of us.

  I play back the last few months.

  I didn’t know Alec as well as I’d thought in the years he was around, but I feel like I did before Marissa showed up and fucked with my head.

  His passion for the academy, the way he pushed me, how he touched me. His eyes told me the truth he refused to speak, waiting for me to find and demand the answers myself, as if he knew I’d crave him once I saw him. He wanted me to figure it out on my own. And, when I opened my eyes and the fog cleared, he was the only thing left standing there.

  He was being real. I was more than the girl he had been sent to protect, more than the job he’d accepted out of duty.

  I’m the one he chose.

  Before her and after.

  If Marissa read over these, she knows he’s fucked them over, and she could have killed my dad out of spite.

  Oh my God!

  I jump to my feet again, quickly pulling on a pair of sweats from the floor.

  Her stunt tonight. Of course she fucking knows, but if she saw the documents regarding her family, why did she not take them and run?

  Alec.

  She doesn’t plan to leave her husband behind.

  I need help.

  My hands start shaking as I grab my cell and scroll until I find the right number and press Call, but the second he answers and speaks his name my entire body turns to stone.

  “Detective Murphy here.”

  The phone falls from my hand, my wide eyes stuck open and frozen on the wall.

  His muffled, “Hello?” has me jolting, and then a calculated, “Anybody there?” kicks me forward.

  I quickly grab it, squeezing my eyes shut as I pull it to my ear. “Hey … hi, Detective Murphy.” I move to my window and peek out into the darkness.

  “Ms. Rivera.” There’s a long pause. “What can I do for you?”

  “I was just wondering if there was any new news—you know, on my dad’s case?”

  My lips form a tight line to keep me from crying or screaming or who the hell knows what?

  Again, there’s a long pause. “No,” he drags out. “I’m afraid not. But, if something comes up, you’ll be the first to know.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “Not a problem. You have a good night.”

  “Yeah, you, too.” I hang up, and full-blown panic kicks in.

  I start hyperventilating, and acid fights its way up my throat. I start gagging but quickly grab a water bottle off my dresser, taking a small drink to help settle my stomach.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck!

  Detective Murphy is Marissa Murphy’s father.

  I run to my nightstand and pull it away from the wall, sliding open the hidden compartment in the back, and my eyes shoot open wide. My gun is gone.

  “Oh God,” I whisper. “Oh God, oh God.”

  With trembling fingers, I dial Rowan, but he doesn’t answer, so I quickly text him SOS, hoping he’ll come.

  She has my gun and my man.

  I scan over the room, searching for an inconspicuous weapon. My eyes stop on my tall corner lamp. I run to it, unscrewing the top half, leaving me with the hard metal stick from the bottom piece.

  I rush for my bedroom door, slowly pulling it open, and the moment that I step into the hall … a gunshot rings in the air.

  No!

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Oakley

  I take a deep breath, but it does nothing to soothe me.

  I rush into the hall, and the second I reach his door, I jolt to a stop, spotting him on the floor, soaking in a puddle of his own blood.

  “Alec!”

  I go to blast forward but jump back when she speaks, “Oh, good!”

  I jerk away from the door as Marissa’s chipper voice hits my ears, finding her approaching from the hall.

  “You came to me.”

  I simply stand there like a dumbass, frozen in place, Alec’s lifeless body seen in my peripheral.

  That’s when I smell it, my eyes flying past her form, but she steps to the side and right back in my line of sight.

  “I told my dad I’d leave you for him, but I think I’ve changed my mind. Two specialized firefighters dying in a tragic fire?” She laughs, and a deep crease takes over my forehead. “Epic. But maybe the joke’s on me, hmm?” She steps closer, so I stand taller. “See, I came here to try to speed this along, so I could have my husband back, seeing as how he couldn’t come home until the job was finished.”

  She tilts her head, a dull glaze taking over her eyes, zero emotion reflecting in her features. “I would have figured it out a lot earlier if I’d paid attention to the signs, but I was too busy searching for something else. I mean, I show up here after months of no physical contact, and my husband won’t have sex with me. He said he needed to stay focused, and having my body on the brain would distract him. Smooth, right?”

  When my brows pull in, she blinks, and her face transforms once again, now shining brightly with excitement, but her eyes are wide and wild.

  She’s gonna snap soon. She’ll shoot for sure. Crazy bitch.

  “You didn’t know?” She grins. “You thought we’d been fucking this entire time, and still, you come out here, ready to protect him? God, you’re even more pathetic than me.”

  There’s no way what she’s saying is true.

  Is it?

  She tilts her head, knowing she has my mind spinning.

  Did he really not—

 
When her eyes dart to where my hand has subconsciously moved to hover, I freeze.

  Her flighty stare snaps back to mine.

  And then she lifts her gun.

  She’s quick, but I’m quicker, and I swing the metal bar, hitting her right across her jaw. She stumbles, her back hitting the wall, and the gun goes off in her hand, a slight sting lighting up my calf. She tries to catch her bearings, but I lift the rod again and bring it down over her kneecap with as much force as I can muster. The cracking sound is loud, but her cries of sheer pain are louder, and she crumbles, dropping to the floor.

  Blood drips from her lip and the cut beneath her eye. Her jaw clenches, her light eyes narrowing, as a wobbly hand tries to raise the gun, but her weak muscles refuse to allow it.

  I lift my left foot, kicking the gun from her grip, and she growls, looking from the raised rod in my hand to me.

  “Bitch,” she spits, her head dropping against the wall.

  I pull the rod back farther. “Maybe. But this was all you.” And I bring it right across her face once more, knocking her ass out.

  I drop the weapon and rush into Alec’s room. I check him for a pulse, finding one so weak that I worry he might not make it out of here. I snatch a shirt from the ground and press it over his wound.

  I slap him a few times, tears now streaming from my eyes as I stare at his paling form.

  “Alec, baby, open your eyes.” I hit him again, glancing from the bullet wound that looks to be just below his heart and back to his eyes. “Come on, baby, wake up!”

  Nothing.

  The smoke hits me hard then, and I start to cough as I cry. I lift my sweater to cover my nose and stand, trying to pull Alec by his legs, but his big-ass body won’t budge, and I need him out of the awkward position he’s in to even attempt a lift maneuver on him.

  “Fuck!” I scream and run for the hall.

  I dash toward the kitchen but skid to a stop when I see the flames making their way down the line.

  “No,” I whisper, glancing around, finding no way past without my suit … which is in the fucking garage. “Goddamn it!” I scream.