The Messenger (Professionals Book 3) Read online

  Contents

  TITLE PAGE

  Rights

  Dedication

  -

  ONE

  -

  TWO

  -

  THREE

  -

  FOUR

  -

  FIVE

  -

  SIX

  -

  SEVEN

  -

  EIGHT

  -

  NINE

  -

  TEN

  -

  EPILOGUE

  DON'T FORGET

  ALSO BY JESSICA GADZIALA

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  STALK HER!

  The

  MESSENGER

  -

  Jessica Gadziala

  Copyright © 2018 Jessica Gadziala

  All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author's intellectual property. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for brief quotations used in a book review.

  "This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental."

  Cover image credit: Shutterstock .com/David Ryo

  DEDICATION

  To Crystalyn - for the last minute

  Hail Mary when I needed it most.

  -

  Flashback - One week before -

  "Augh," Jules growled, slamming the receiver back into the cradle, freeing her hands to rub at the headache forming in her temples, a sharp, insistent throb that she knew was going to make the rest of the work shift even more draining than usual. Because - she had learned from experience - the worst sound in the world when you had a migraine brewing was the scream of a phone that you just knew was begging for parts of you that you didn't have to give, and the bleep of the intercom followed by a male voice asking her to fetch something, making her realize just how loud the click of her own heels sounded on the hard floor.

  Miller wasn't in the office.

  She was the only one who didn't use the intercom.

  My legs work just as well as yours do. That was what she had said when Jules had asked why she didn't ask her to go grab the file she needed.

  There was a jingle and click, making her take a deep breath before opening her eyes, finding a bottle of Excedrin Migraine sitting before her on her desk.

  She knew.

  She knew without having to look up.

  Because there was only one person in the entire office who would even notice that she had a migraine brewing - let alone bring her what she would need to tolerate it.

  Kai.

  "Take one," he demanded, using the slightly firm tone on her that he learned he needed to do from time to time. When she was being too stubborn for her own good.

  She reached for the bottle, twisting off the cap, and throwing one into her mouth to chase down with her too-cold coffee - something she was so accustomed to that she barely even noticed it anymore.

  She came a long way from the girl who always had to have Starbucks.

  And always extra hot.

  "Now, what's going on?" he asked, losing the edge in his voice as he hauled himself up on the other side of her desk, something he knew she hated, but did anyway.

  "Not..."

  "Don't," he cut her off, shaking his head, making his somewhat long, inky hair catch the light as his hand reached out to move the paperclips out of the brads compartment of her desk organizer.

  "My dress," she admitted, feeling that all-too-familiar swirling discomfort in her stomach at speaking of her wedding in front of him.

  "What's wrong with it?"

  "I need to pick it up before five when the shop closes, or I won't be able to get it until Monday."

  "And the wedding is Sunday," he supplied, knowing because he was, of course, invited. As was the whole office. Even Gunner. Who no more wanted to go than she wanted him to come, but he would. Because his girl would make him.

  "And Quin wants me to sit in with his client at four-thirty to take notes."

  "I'll grab it," he offered, automatically, knee-jerk, as she was convinced kindness always was to him, selflessness.

  "No," she said automatically, emphatically, fighting back the stab of guilt inside.

  He was the last person in the world she could ask to pick up her wedding dress.

  She could call her mom.

  Or one of her aunts.

  Maybe even Miller if she was in town.

  "Consider it done," he told her, jumping off her desk, giving her one of his sweet smiles, rushing off before she could deny him again.

  She felt it then, replacing the guilt as he walked out the front door, a sensation not wholly unfamiliar around Kai.

  An odd, tight feeling across her chest, something she never let herself analyze, finding herself oddly afraid of what she would find if she tried.

  So she refused to.

  And she went to take notes for her boss, finding her dress hanging in its pretty pearl-colored garment bag on the rack by the door, Kai gone for the evening.

  It was really happening, she realized as she unzipped the bag slightly to see the dress.

  She was really getting married.

  And that dropping feeling in her belly?

  Yeah, she was just choosing not to analyze that either.

  ONE

  Kai

  She was getting married.

  She was getting married to another guy.

  And I couldn't get my tie tied as I stood in the mirror, looking at a face made almost unfamiliar with the new short crop of my hair that I had cut on a lark the night before, not sure where the impulse came from, just needing a change, just maybe hoping it would signal a new start.

  Even if a new start was the last thing in the world I wanted.

  Everything was changing.

  Like a kid whose parents were splitting up, I was hung up on the little things, the way life would be different than it had before.

  She'd belong to another man.

  One who would do the errands she needed done, but couldn't find the extra hours in the day to do so herself.

  One who would bring her coffee or lunch when he was passing by.

  One who would rub that ache in her left shoulder from holding the phone between it and her ear, so her hands were free for other tasks.

  I couldn't do those things anymore.

  Maybe I never should have to begin with.

  Maybe it was never my place.

  And those were the things swirling around my head as I tried for the sixth time to get the tie to knot.

  Maybe my mind was focused on those things because it knew it couldn't handle the other things.

  Like how they would be buying a home together, decorating it, building a life in it, creating babies in it.

  All her highs and lows, they belonged to him now.

  For good.

  In a permanent way.

  In a way that came with rings, promises, and paperwork.

  On a hiss, I walked away from the mirror, going into my kitchen, reaching into a cabinet to grab the whiskey - something I rarely had occasion to reach for.

  But if there was ever a reason to drink, it was when the love of your goddamn life was marrying someone else.

  I should have been happy for her.
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  It was a selfish kind of love to only want someone happy if they were happy with you.

  I understood that.

  I knew it was wrong to begrudge a woman her happily ever after simply because you couldn't star in it, couldn't be the one with the glass shoe, the one with the rose and the library, the one with the kiss that could break the spell.

  Because she deserved all that.

  More, even.

  But I couldn't shake the feeling that her fiancé was the wrong man for the job. And I couldn't figure out if the feeling was a genuine one, or just my own jealousy talking.

  Whatever it was, I didn't like him.

  Hadn't liked him the day we met when he had shook my hand a little too hard, like he needed to exert his alpha-ness, when he hadn't looked at Jules when she spoke, when he teased her for liking flavor in her coffee, when he hadn't opened the door for her, let her reach for it herself.

  He had just rubbed me the wrong way.

  But Jules did think he was the right guy.

  Enough to give him her hand.

  Whether I thought he was worthy or not.

  The whiskey burned its way down, a sensation I reveled in because it - for one short, glorious moment - took away from the crushing sensation in my chest, a feeling I had been dealing with for months, but had not seemed to be able to get used to.

  Maybe I should have been counting my blessings that it was a short engagement.

  Everything had been in hyper-drive since the two met. I had no idea whose choice that had been. It could have been either of them, to be honest.

  Jules was the kind of person who, when she knew her mind, acted on it. With everything within her. So if she made up her mind about Gary, then, well, she would have charged ahead as soon as she saw a ring, throwing herself into the planning as she did with everything in her life. With determination. With tunnel vision.

  That was Jules.

  Driven. Confident. Hard-working.

  Hell, I had no idea where she found the time to plan every single, minute detail of the event while working as hard as she did at the office. There before everyone else, leaving after most others.

  She burned the candle at both ends just holding down her job.

  I had no idea when she managed to squeeze in dress fittings, cake tasting, invitation creating.

  And make no mistake - she did all of it.

  If Jules had one flaw - and I wasn't sure you could even call it such - it was her utter inability - or unwillingness - to delegate.

  So she was the one pouring over fonts, over centerpieces, over music, over wine and food selections.

  She likely hadn't slept in months.

  I sighed as I looked at the time, realizing it was about as late as I could hope to leave without actually being late to the event.

  Leaving my tie as it was - figuring I could get someone there to fix it for me - I grabbed my keys and headed out, an odd mix of crushed... and curious.

  Curious because, well, I couldn't help it.

  I wanted to see her vision for this day, what she chose, what she saw in her head when she thought of her wedding day.

  Of course, a ridiculous little part of me really did hold out hope that I would find out because it would be my day too.

  Hearts were fanciful things.

  Mine was prone to way too much wishful thinking.

  I pulled up to the venue, giving my keys to the valet who looked like he was suffering a bit in the heat.

  I couldn't quite figure out what had possessed Jules to choose to be an August bride when she hated summer.

  So much about this seemed odd to me.

  But then again, it was odd to think that the woman I had loved damn near since the moment I met her was marrying someone else, so I was choosing not to over-analyze the strangeness I felt around me.

  Like how the guest sign-in table was what one could only call hipster-rustic-chic with aged wood, up-cycled picture frames with images of the happy couple, mason jar candles, and a chalkboard.

  Sure, the word 'chic' fit Jules, but the woman had never been a fan of anything rustic.

  A compromise, maybe?

  I stared down at the book where I was meant to spill my heart, give them my blessings, and my throat was in a vice grip.

  Because if I poured out my heart, all that would be on the page would be Marry me instead.

  With a grip firm enough to snap the pen, I wrote all I could.

  Best wishes - Kai.

  Because no matter what, that was true. I would never wish anything for her but the best.

  "Do you need some help with that?" Sloane's voice called to me from my side, making me turn to find her in an ice-blue summer dress, making her hair and skin pop, standing beside Gunner who looked out of place in a suit, no matter how many times I had seen him in one before.

  I would normally have smiled at the fact that his tie matched her dress perfectly, but my lips couldn't find the energy to curve up.

  "With what?"

  "Your tie," she explained, reaching out, twisting it into place with expert fingers. "What's in the box?" she asked, motioning to the white and gold wrapped present in my hand.

  She had a registry.

  I was supposed to buy off that.

  I was supposed to get them something to start their lives off with.

  Plates. Serving dishes. Nut bowls.

  I couldn't bring myself to do it.

  "Snowglobe," I told her, shrugging it off. Everyone knew Jules collected them.

  I left out the details.

  Like the fact that it was of the Edinburg Castle.

  Like it was from Ireland, the place she had always wanted to visit.

  Like the piece itself was called Forever In My Heart - a fact that not a soul would ever learn. It could be my secret alone.

  "Do you want to sit with us?" Sloane offered. "We got here early, so we got seats right behind her family."

  "No, thanks," I told them, shaking my head, moving away down the path to the ceremony that would take place in front of the gazebo.

  I didn't want to be in the front.

  I wanted to be in the far back.

  First to see her.

  But with the worst view of the actual ceremony.

  The chairs on either side were all wooden, but mismatched, something I would have sworn would drive Jules crazy. At the edge of the rows, two large whiskey barrels were set up, each with a frame on top with a blackboard framing that saying about how we're all family now, so sit wherever you want.

  I went to the left, taking the end seat at the last aisle, seeing two rows of Jules' family up front, smiling, talking happily.

  This was a joyful day for them, of course.

  They wanted Jules to settle down, stop working so hard, allow a man to take care of her. As much as she would bristle at the idea, being someone who was very proud to take care of herself, though maybe she would take a break when she had kids.

  And the office would be a different place without her around.

  Hell, it would be a sad place for the three weeks she would be on her honeymoon.

  Or maybe that was just me.

  "Hey Kai," Gemma, Jules' younger sister said from my side, giving me a megawatt smile - her default one - that made her light blue eyes catch the light.

  She looked a lot like her sister who looked a lot like their mother. The same red hair. The same porcelain skin. The same blue eyes. The same tall, lithe builds. The same freckles, even. But whereas Jules' were just a small fleck of them over the bridge of her nose, Gemma had them over her nose and across the tops of her cheeks. I thought it gave her a fairy look when I first met her, temping at the office after school when Jules needed an extra hand every now and again.

  She was the light and airy to Jules' more regimented and firm. She flitted around the world, making everyone around her happier for her existence.

  "Heya Gemma," I told her, managing to find a small smile for her. "Why aren't you getting ready?"
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  "Ready for what?"

  "Aren't you the maid of honor?"

  "Oh," she said, her face falling. And it was a damn shame for someone so joyful to look so sad. "There is no bridal party."

  "What?" I asked, brows furrowing.

  That made no sense.

  Jules had a huge family and network of friends. She would have wanted some of them - especially her sister - up there with her on her big day.

  "Gary doesn't really... have a lot of guests."

  At that, my gaze moved around, recognizing faces - the guys from work, their partners or dates, the crew of her girlfriends with their plus ones, her family - both close and distant.

  Actually, there wasn't a single face I didn't recognize.

  "Sorry, Gemmy," I told her, knowing she would have wanted to be up there for her sister.

  "It's okay. It's not about me."

  "How is Jules?" I asked, unable to help myself.

  "Beautiful," Gemma declared, beaming once again. "She looks like she's from a fairy tale."

  I'd bet good money that those words weren't an exaggeration.

  "Of course," I agreed, giving her dainty wrist a small squeeze. "Go get your seat, Gemmy. They should be starting soon."

  "You're sure you don't want to come sit with us? Mom loves you."

  "I'm good back here," I told her, lying.

  There was nothing good about how I felt right then.

  "You'll save a dance for me later?" she asked in all her adorable eighteen-year-old sweetness.

  "You can have all of them," I promised her, watching as she floated off toward her family, leaning in to say something to her mother who looked over her shoulder at me, eyes almost sad before she shot me a smile that her daughters were lucky enough to inherit.

  It was fifteen minutes later when people started checking their watches, their phones.

  Because it was five minutes after the ceremony was supposed to start.

  From his seat, Quin shot me a curious look.

  Because if there was one thing we knew about Jules, it was that the girl was always on time.

  Ten minutes after that, people started shifting uncomfortably in their seats.