Wretched Heart (Wretched #1)

1. Hunter

Hunter

T here are no flowers adorning the entrance to the small chapel, and the arched doors are firmly closed against the howling wind.

Spring is slow to arrive in Bloomington, Illinois and the grey day carries a sense of foreboding.

At least it isn’t my funeral. In fact, it isn’t anyone’s funeral, but I do predict tears by the end of the day.

I press a finger to my earpiece. “Are we set?”

There are a series of confirmations from my men as they take up strategic positions close to the exits.

As expected, there aren’t many cars in the small parking lot.

Barrett Emerson likes to parade his wealth when he can, but he keeps certain business affairs private. And today is all about business.

I glance over my shoulder to the SUV parked outside the chapel’s ivy-covered gates.

My brother is the only one yet to answer.

I can’t see him through the blacked-out windows, but I know he’s in the back with three cell phones and a laptop on his knee.

He’s the youngest of the original triad of Griffin brothers, and the most likely to become distracted.

He might be twenty-eight, but he can piss me off just as easily as he did when he was a teenager.

“Mace? Fucking answer,” I hiss.

I wish Ash were here. Our older brother was meant to be leading this particular mission, but we hadn’t expected Barrett to move so quickly, and Ash is out of the country.

“I’m listening,” Mace answers on a grunt.

“Then tell–”

“I’m listening to the service,” he interrupts.

“The pastor sure does like the sound of his own voice. You’ve still got a few minutes.

” Before I snap at him to be more specific, he adds, “I don’t fucking know how long exactly, but I’ll give you your cue when I can.

And , since I know you’re going to ask, the audio is locked in.

I think I can manage to press one button, Hunter.

I’m hardly going to miss the opportunity to blow Barrett’s special day into a thousand pieces, along with his cold and shriveled heart. ”

“You give him too much credit. That man doesn’t have a heart,” I mutter. As an afterthought, I add, “Thanks, Mace.”

I would never admit it, but my nerdy brother’s obsession with technology is one of the reasons Griffin Corps has gone from strength to strength, making it the multi-billion-dollar venture it is today.

It was Ash who set the company up straight out of college.

He inherited our dad’s analytical brain, and can take one look at a business and make it twice as efficient.

I’m the one who turns Ash’s good ideas into profit – a skill my dad severely lacked.

I’ve also taken on the role as chief negotiator since I’m more of a people-person than Ash or Mace – which is fortunate because I’m about to face my toughest crowd.

“Are we good?” I ask as I reach the two men standing at the chapel doors .

The older man, whose name I don’t know, is big but a little too soft around the middle. There’s ice in his eyes as he glares at me, but I notice the bead of sweat trickling down from his temple where the barrel of a gun is pressed against his jaundiced skin.

I look to the younger man holding the gun.

Reid is the youngest Griffin brother, and we still treat him like the baby of the family even though he’s twenty-four now.

I was six when my dad brought my stepmom home from the hospital with this tiny bundle of trouble, and he just made us all stupidly happy.

Everyone except maybe Mace. He doesn’t do happy.

Reid may not come from the exact same gene pool as the rest of us, but he’s as much a brother to me as the others.

There are no half-measures. The only marked difference is that he doesn’t carry the same childhood scars as Ash, Mace and I.

He had a mom, and although our dad’s second wife extended a mother’s love and devotion to her three stepsons, we couldn’t forget what we’d lost. Or to be more precise, what we never had from the woman who walked out on us when Mace was a baby.

“I’m good,” Reid replies with a too-eager grin.

The kid is new to this side of the business.

We’d sent him off to law school in the hope that it would give him a new direction without our baggage, but the Griffin’s loyalty gene is just as prevalent as our height.

We’re all over six foot, and while Reid beats me by an inch, he doesn’t have the same broad frame that the rest of us share.

He’s leaner, with sharp reflexes and an eagerness to prove himself worthy of a place next to us. Possibly a little too eager.

“Maybe relax your finger on that trigger a touch,” I say before offering Reid’s new friend a wink. “I’d like to get through this without you spilling blood – this time. ”

“Spoil sport,” Reid says, still smiling.

In truth, Reid’s never pulled the trigger outside of training. He’s not a killer, but Barrett’s ill-equipped security detail doesn’t need to know that. The poor guy is the only protection Barrett deemed necessary. It’s like our nemesis was inviting trouble.

Or it could be that Barrett Emerson is an arrogant bastard who assumed we’d fall for his sleight of hand. After arriving in Bloomington, he’d sent his private jet back to New York, thinking we wouldn’t check the flight manifest and notice he wasn’t on it. Or know about his impending nuptials.

Aware that I’ll need to make my entrance soon, I turn to the man who’s been shadowing me. “Jake, can you organize the garbage disposal,” I say, tipping my head to our sweating captive. “I want Reid with me.”

My head of security gesticulates to two men over by the parking lot, and Reid is relieved of his duties.

“I can direct everything from out here,” Jake promises, “unless you want me in there too?”

“No, we’ll be fine, but keep all channels open. I’ll shout if I need you,” I say just as Mace breaks his radio silence.

“Showtime.”

As I straighten the starched white cuffs peeking beneath my suit jacket, I nod to Reid. “You don’t speak unless it’s to me,” I tell him, keeping my voice level and controlled. It takes more effort than I’d like.

The feud with Barrett is personal, and I don’t welcome the emotions it engenders.

I can usually channel my anger to better effect, redirecting it into something empowering and constructive, but my loathing for the Emersons and everything they represent is a dark and bitter poison that’s flowed through my veins for as long as I can remember.

I’d like to say it ends here, but this is just one more battle.

I push hard on both doors, and as they swing open, I hear the pastor’s voice.

“If anyone here present knows of any reason why this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

“Oh, if you insist,” I say as one of the swinging doors hits an iron candelabra. Candles flicker and wax spills as it crashes to the floor with a clatter that echoes through the otherwise hushed chapel.

Stricken faces turn in my direction as I stride down the aisle, and I take in every detail despite my focus zooming in on the groom.

There are less than two dozen guests, and that’s including Barrett’s best man, who moves to his side.

Typical of Barrett to have chosen an Emerson executive.

Ray Forsyth’s presence is yet more confirmation that this is nothing more than a business deal.

Barrett’s eye twitches. “What the fuck are you doing here, Hunter?”

I glance towards a man rising from the front pew.

We’ve not met yet, but according to Mace’s research, this is Hugo Corbyn of Corbyn Paper Merchants.

He and his sister inherited the paper mill from their late father, and he’s the one giving the bride away - one sister in exchange for what he presumes will be Barrett’s significant investment in the failing mill.

Beads of sweat pop on his brow. There stands a desperate man, his features sharp and drawn.

His sister, twenty-four-year-old Maddison Corbyn is a sight to behold. Considering the lack of pomp and circumstance on display at the chapel, the entire budget seems to have been sunk into her crystal white wedding dress.

Maddison is slender in the photos I’ve seen, but up there on the altar, she’s been transformed into a veritable meringue monster.

The only sign of her beautiful figure is her pinched waist, bare shoulders and the curve of her breasts peeking above the tight bodice.

Her silken blond hair is currently defying gravity in rigid curls piled up around a glittering tiara.

I don’t know whether to laugh at the sheer audacity of her outfit, or be intimidated by her steely glare. For now, I ignore it.

“I object,” I say to Barrett with a shrug.

“Who the hell are you to object?” demands Hugo, doing his best to step in front of Maddison without tripping over her flowing gown.

Reid comes alongside me, and I tip my head to a spot next to the pulpit where he can keep the congregation in his sights.

I shove my hands in my pockets. Damn, I’m almost glad Ash couldn’t make it. I think I’m going to enjoy this. “I’m the person who’s going to stop your sister making a big mistake.”

“Please don’t do this,” comes a whiny voice from the congregation. It’s the mother of the groom.

Alice Emerson threatens to suck all my enjoyment out of her son’s public humiliation. I need to shoot her down fast. “Is that mommy coming to your rescue?” I ask Barrett. I tilt my head to let Alice know I’m addressing her while I continue to outstare her son. “Too little, too late, Alice.”

With perfect timing, Mace triggers the next stage of my plan.

The chapel echoes with the sound of cell phone notifications, and I tut loudly. “Oh, dear. Not everyone put their phones on mute.”