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Chapter Seventeen

MERRICK

“I’m ready to get the fuck out of this city,” I mutter as I scan the church in front of me. “I’ve been here way too fucking long. I want to go home to my own bed with my own wife. In order to do that, I have to get through today.”

At least, that’s what I tell myself. Certainly, I don’t think about the aftermath of today and what kind of shitstorm it’s going to cause. I’m not sure anyone else is thinking about it, either.

“Have you decided what’s to be done with the Willow Club?” I ask Theron.

I’m too fucking antsy to just sit here in silence, and I don’t want to talk about Colette or what’s going to happen today anymore. I need something to distract me as we wait for vendors to arrive so we can slip in and out of the chaos of the gigantic event.

Theron doesn’t say anything immediately. Instead, he clears his throat and leans back in his seat. As I wait for him to answer, I glance over to the van that is backed up to the side door of the church. That is what I’ll be using to drive my wife out of here… my ex-wife.

“We’ve taken control of it,” he states. “I don’t want to run a nightclub, though. As much as I think it would be a good diversification, I’m thinking we could sell it, maybe to someone who wouldn’t be a fucking problem?”

“I like the sound of that,” I say. “I’m all about income, but what if we did a triple net lease?”

Theron arches a brow, turning his head to meet my eyes. “Are you saying we keep the land and lease out the building?”

“They’re responsible for everything. Repairs, taxes, the whole fucking thing.”

His lips curve up into a grin. We’re a group of men who have come from absolutely nothing. Less than nothing, really. We don’t even have any education, yet here we are, running a multimillion-dollar security firm.

But between the six of us, we can and will rise above all our circumstances. Environments that were beyond our control. But we are men now, and we are the ones in control—or taking control, in my case.

“I love that idea. Let’s do it. We have enough connections that we could make his happen,” Theron murmurs.

Thankfully, that conversation takes up a few minutes, but not long enough because my thoughts drift back to Colette. “Did we ever find out who the fuck she was marrying?” I ask.

Theron shakes his head. “I even asked Lucille to look, but she found nothing. Although I didn’t tell her much about the reason behind it.”

I don’t tell him that she probably knows more than he does about this situation. Instead, I just smile and stare at the cars that are beginning to pull into parking spots around us. I watch as people exit, grabbing bags and cases out of their trunks.

“I think these are vendors,” Theron mutters, saying out loud what I was already thinking.

I hum, unable to look anywhere but the parking lot as I anticipate her arrival. I need to know that she’s okay. I need to see her with my own eyes, touch her with my fingertips, kiss her with my lips.

I just need Colette.

Thoughts of the man who she is supposed to marry leave my mind the moment the blacked-out sedan pulls up beside us. A tall man exits the driver’s seat. I watch as he straightens and then glances around, surveying the area. He’s looking for something, maybe even someone.

He is not the man in charge, though.

He doesn’t carry himself like a man who has any real power. This is one of their men, either Colette’s fiancé or her father’s. He’s not in charge, even if he wishes he were. This is not a man who holds true authority.

“I think she’s here,” I whisper.

The man walks around the front of the car before he opens the back door. I watch as blonde hair appears. I can’t see her front, but I don’t need to. Her small stature is all I need to see to know that it is my wife.

My woman.

Mine.

My entire body jerks, urgently begging me to go to her. I know where she belongs, and it’s with me, at my side. One step behind me so that I can always protect her. So that I can stand between her and danger.

My Colette.

Theron reaches over, curling his fingers around my forearm, and squeezes it. “Don’t do anything stupid… yet.”

“Yet?” I ask, turning my head slightly and tearing my gaze away from Colette as she disappears inside the church.

Theron snorts. “Yet,” he repeats. “This whole plan is stupid. Going into a church, surrounded by her father’s men and an unknown adversary along with his whole crew.”

“He’s not an adversary,” I snap. Theron’s lips twitch into a smirk, but he doesn’t argue with me. “Whoever he is, he is not my enemy. Therefore, he’s not an adversary. She is my woman.”

“Well then,” Theron chuckles. “The whole plan is still stupid because we’re going in five to probably a hundred.”

I can’t deny that shit. Not at all. But I’ve never been smart. Shrugging, I reach into my shoulder holster and pull out one of my guns. He laughs, shaking his head, then releases my arm and pulls out a gun from his holster.

“We wait until we get the go-ahead from Boden.”

“He better fucking hurry,” I grunt.

“Yeah.”

COLETTE

The babysitter guides me from the parking lot into the back of the church. I’m not sure why this wedding is even happening in a church. I’m divorced. I don’t care what my father filed and what he talked to the priest about. I was definitely married to Merrick. Happily, too.

I’m led into a room quietly, and the door is closed behind me. But I’m not alone. Looking around, my eyes widen at the sight of four women setting up tables with hair and makeup tools and supplies.

I don’t move into the room. I’m not sure where I’m supposed to go or what I’m supposed to do. So I stand where I am, wishing I could vanish into thin air. I’m not sure how long I stay there, silently watching them chatter and move around the room. Then one of the women stops, turns her head, and her eyes widen.

“Oh my gosh, you’re the bride,” she exclaims.

Staring at her, I blink a few times and nod once. I don’t know what else to do or say. I don’t know these women. I take a tentative step toward them, but then I see, one by one, their lips parting as their expressions shift into ones of horror.

I don’t know what I look like, but I know I’ve lost weight. I have to have. I’ve only been given food once a day. And I was already on the thinner side. My hair is probably a mess, too. I washed it and combed it out, but it’s air-dried. I’m also not wearing makeup.

But I haven’t seen my reflection since I was taken. I refused to look at myself in the small mirror that was in the cabin’s bathroom. I didn’t want to see what I had become, and I’m glad for it, but judging by the way these women are looking at me, I should have probably looked.

One takes a tentative step forward, then another, almost as if she’s approaching a scared animal. Which, to be fair, is exactly what I feel like right now, so she’s not all wrong. Dipping my chin, I look down at my feet, then wince because I didn’t realize that I was barefooted.

I open my mouth as I start to apologize for my appearance, but I don’t get any words out. Instead, instantly, I’m surrounded by all four women. They wrap their arms around me and lead me toward a chair that faces a mirror.

“We’ll take care of you,” one of them says.

I don’t know which one it is because my gaze lands on my reflection, and I stare at myself in horror. Not only have I clearly lost weight, but my face is thinner, with a harsh jawline and sunken eyes. I’ve got purple bruises beneath my eyes, and my hair isn’t even worth speaking about because it’s a frizzy mess.

But that isn’t what is scary. All of those things are concerning, but what’s really terrifying is the rash around my neck where the collar has been for the past several weeks. I press my lips together, trying not to cry, but mostly so that I don’t scream. I lift my hand to my throat, and my fingers gently touch the irritated skin.

“We can try and cover it,” one of the women whispers.

“Don’t,” I state. “Let them all see it.”

Every single one of them.

Every person in the audience is part of my father’s or Malcolm’s world, and I don’t care if they see these marks on my skin. I’m sure they don’t care, either, to be perfectly honest. They didn’t give a single fuck when I was auctioned off like an animal to be used for a price. A little skin damage isn’t going to bother them in the least.