Chapter Four
Hayes
Istared at my phone as my front door closed behind me. The Red Snake group chat, Jake’s worst idea yet, was currently blowing up because I’d decided to skip out on the dinner Carrie had invited us all to.
Ash: Carrie has something to ask everyone.
Jake: Hayes, get your ass to Astoria.
Dominic: I don’t know why you wanted to skip out. Carrie is making chicken alfredo lasagna.
Ash: What’s the status of the garlic bread?
Jake: Why are you asking us? We’re all still at Rossy’s.
My gut twisted, my eyes lingering on that word.
Rossy’s Bookstore was a staple in Astoria, and everyone knew why—the coffee.
According to Rossy himself, the reason the majority of the fishermen even step into the bookstore is because of the genius barista behind the espresso counter.
I couldn’t lie; the coffee from Rossy’s was the best I’d ever had.
Just like her.
The memory of her nails against my scalp hit me, and suddenly, all I could smell was jasmine, the taste of cherries on my tongue.
It had been two weeks since that night, and I thought today was going to be the first day I could make it without thinking about her.
I managed to bury myself in work, taking meetings with new clients while Ash coordinated the next mission for me.
I was ready to get out of this state, to get my mind and body away from her.
What I needed was an international hunt.
Since starting Red Snake Investigations, we’d only had to go international twice, and though it added complications for us, I would take anything right now.
I threw my wallet and keys onto the entryway table, a low growl of frustration manifesting from deep in my chest. “I need to be rid of her.”
My phone chimed again, and I knew looking at it would only piss me off, but the Red Snake chat couldn’t go unanswered. It was a rule we’d set long ago.
I didn’t break rules.
Grinding my teeth, I lifted my phone again as I walked into my living room.
Dominic: I’m not at Rossy’s.
My head ticked to the side. “Where the fuck?” I muttered, my fingers moving across the screen.
Me: Where the hell are you then?
Dominic: Took a walk. Where are you?
Jake: He’s still in Portland. Shower and get on the road.
Grayson: Carrie wants everyone to be at our place by seven.
Lifting my arm, I looked at my watch. It was just after four thirty.
A heavy sigh left me then, and I looked up to the ceiling.
Carrie was a good woman, down to her bones.
The best thing that ever happened to Grayson was being hired by Jeremy Jones to find her.
Before Carrie, Grayson was lost, moving through life like a ghost. Now, he was happy—healed.
Carrie was his light and he was her darkness.
They balanced each other out in a way that I ached to have one day.
But as the years went on, that goal slowly morphed into a delusional dream.
I shook my head and scratched my jaw. Carrie was expecting me there, and after everything she’d done, not only for Grayson, but for Red Snake, I couldn’t let her down. I couldn’t fail her too.
Fucking hell, I was going back to Astoria.
My phone dinged again, pulling me from my thoughts.
Ash: Update on the garlic bread: Margo is making it.
Tossing my phone onto the counter, I bit off a curse.
Come on, Mitchell. You’ve handled worse. You can handle seeing your one-night stand.
“She wasn’t supposed to be a one-night stand,” I whispered to my empty apartment. “She wasn’t supposed to be anything—I should have never allowed her to be anything.”
Margo Bennett was the last thing I expected, and now, after having her, even just for a night, she was the only thing I wanted.
My brow furrowed as I took in my space, the group chat still going, my phone endlessly buzzing.
It hit me then: how different Margo and I were.
I hadn’t allowed myself to see all of her space, but from what I did see, she was all color and chaos.
Her tiny, cozy apartment was mix-matched and unorganized.
Normally, a place like that would make my skin crawl.
But the morning I left her, my skin didn’t crawl as I walked across her hot pink rug, weaving through her funky pieces of furniture.
I looked into my living room then, studying the brown leather couches, cream rug, and the three pieces of art hanging on the wall.
It had taken me a few months to get everything here after the Red Snake relocation.
Some of the loose ends I had to take care of in Charlotte took a little longer than I expected, Veronica being one of them.
Everything matched, everything had a place, a purpose.
The complete opposite of Margo’s place.
Moving away from the counter, I left my phone and went to stand in front of my TV.
My skin began to crawl.
Christ, that woman.
I ran my hand over my short hair, knowing that if I ignored the boys and didn’t show up, Grayson would be on my doorstep tomorrow morning, ready to kick my ass. I didn’t mind pissing off Grayson. It was something I’d done over and over again, and there were several times when he’d pissed me off.
But I couldn’t hurt Carrie.
As if on cue, my phone began to ring. Grayson’s tone. “Fuck me,” I muttered before snatching my phone off the counter.
“Mitchell,” I answered.
“All right, I stepped outside,” Grayson informed me, voice hard. “You have two seconds to tell me what the fuck is going on, or I’m driving to Portland.”
“There’s nothing—”
“Cut the shit,” he growled. “Ever since you wrapped up the Harold account, you’ve been off.”
“Gray—”
“It’s been weeks, and you still haven’t completed your debrief with Dominic,” he continued, either not hearing me or just not giving a fuck. Judging by his tone, it was the latter. “I’m ordering you, not only as your fucking boss but as your friend, to cut the shit and tell me what’s going on.”
I fucked your fiancée’s best friend senseless, and then I decided I wanted more than just one night with her because I’ve thought about her every single day for over a year.
But when she moaned another man’s name in her sleep, I felt a pain in my chest that I hadn’t felt since the accident, and I’m still dealing with the fact that I lost her before she was ever truly mine.
My silence didn’t help his mood. “Did something happen on the hunt?”
“No,” I pushed out, heading into my bedroom.
“Don’t lie to me, Mitchell.”
“Nothing happened,” I replied calmly—coldly. “The mission was cut-and-dry. No complications.”
“Grayson?” Carrie called in the background, and then I heard him sigh.
“Are you coming tonight or not? Carrie needs a head count,” he said, his voice low.
My jaw tightened. I could practically see Carrie standing in front of him, her blue eyes filled with confusion because I was always there.
I never missed anything Carrie invited me to.
I pulled my cell away from my face, an internal war raging inside me.
I had a duty to my team, to my family, and nothing, not even the loss of that fiery burst of a color, could get in the way of that.
“I’ll be there. Do I need to bring anything? ”
“A better attitude wouldn’t hurt,” Grayson deadpanned.
“I’ll try.” Before he could get a response out, I hung up, tossing the phone onto my bed. I put my hands on my hips, chest heaving as I tried to get a grip on reality.
Had I crossed a line with her? Yes. I should’ve never gone into Astoria for a drink. There were plenty of bars in Portland.
You didn’t go to Astoria for the bar, Mitchell. The sooner you stop lying to yourself, the better off you’ll be.
The voice of logic inside my mind, a driving force for me since I was a boy, was right.
As always. I dropped my head, eyes on the floorboards beneath my boots, chest heaving, my blood going hot.
For the last week, I’d been shoving down the truth, afraid to face it.
I knew why I’d gone to Astoria. When the mission was finished and I’d brought the private jet onto the taxi way, I knew I needed to step into that damn town.
Eighteen months had passed since the day Margo, Sarah, and Carrie were kidnapped by the Black Mist, the gang that owned Las Vegas.
Logically, I didn’t know why I needed to cross the town’s border, but the need was overwhelming.
I’d landed on our airstrip just before ten, two hours before the day came to an end, and all I could think about was Astoria.
About the green-eyed, tattooed, angry woman I’d found curled up on the floor of a fish shed, stuck in a sense of shock…
The sky was dark above me as I stalked toward the small wooden structure in the middle of the docks, the waves choppy, the salt air cold and brutal.
My body ached, my eyelids heavy. The only thing that kept me going was the unbearable anger in my gut.
I’d just spent a week underground, watching a man who tortured Carrie for weeks getting ripped apart by one of the most ruthless criminal organizations in the country.
Up ahead, I saw my target: a young, frail man who had no business being wrapped up with the Black Mist.
My feet picked up speed, my boots hitting the wood of the dock as he ducked into the shed.
I heard his voice next, yelling at the women to get up.
He was terrified, and for a good reason.
He knew something was wrong. His boss hadn’t been answering his phone calls.
Then again, why would he? His body had been beaten to near death, and his most trusted men?
They had run, most likely scattering across the globe.
“Get up!” the young man screamed as I stepped up behind him. I saw Carrie’s snow-blond curls over his shoulder as Sarah’s whimpers filled my ears.
“Please,” she rasped.
“Get up!” the man ordered loudly, his voice shaking.
“Going somewhere?” I drawled.