The Messenger (Professionals Book 3) Page 2

  Me included.

  "Kai," Miller's voice said close to my ear, making me turn to find her leaning down from the aisle at me in the dark blue dress she'd chosen for the occasion.

  "What's up?" I asked, keeping my voice low since she had as well.

  "They're not here."

  "Who's not here?"

  "Jules and Gary."

  I was not so good a man that I didn't feel a swell of hope. That maybe they changed their minds. That maybe she'd seen what I'd seen, got cold feet, ended things.

  But Jules would have made sure someone handled things, let guests know.

  She wouldn't just... disappear.

  She wouldn't be that inconsiderate.

  "She was here half an hour ago. Gemmy was with her."

  "She was," Miller agreed. "She asked me to ask Gary something for her, and when I did, he was gone. I told her. And then went to grab her a drink, thinking he just got cold feet, but then when I got back, she was gone."

  "No note?"

  "And she's not answering her phone."

  Again, not like her.

  No matter what kind of chaos was going on.

  "What are we supposed to do here?"

  "I'll go look for her. You tell her mom. See if they can stall things until I get back to you."

  "Kai," Miller said, shaking her head. "No."

  "No, what?"

  "No, I'm not going to make you go to track down Jules on her wedding day to another man."

  "Don't worry about it," I assured her, jumping up. "Keep your cell close."

  With that, I made my way out of the ceremony space, rushing out toward the valet who jumped up from where he'd been sitting on the curb, likely not expecting anyone to come for hours still.

  I'd never been to Jules' place.

  I knew where she lived since we all knew everyone else's addresses in case of emergencies, but I had never been there.

  She lived in the nicer side of Navesink Bank, not quite the rich area, but right on the border of it, in a fifth-floor apartment.

  I made my way down the hall with a welcoming creamy gold on the walls, gleaming dark wood floors, and elegant wall sconces.

  Now this, this was Jules.

  Elegant and understated.

  Not rustic whiskey barrels and mismatched chairs.

  I made my way to the end of the hall, 5B, finding the door opened slightly.

  And Jules, well, she worked for Quin. She knew all about the uglier aspects of the world. I found it hard to believe she would just leave her apartment door open to anyone who might happen by.

  "Jules?" I called, pushing the door open an inch, starting to worry when I heard nothing.

  Deciding now was not the time to respect things like personal boundaries, I stepped inside a space that screamed Jules.

  From the Sedona red hardwood floors, pristine and gleaming, to the white cabinets and white quartz countertops in the kitchen that immediately greeted to me. There were fresh flowers on the short L side of the counter too - white lilies. On the center of the island, a glass bowl was overflowing with fresh fruits - her favorite snack to keep the fridge stocked at work for her long shifts.

  The living space was to the left of the kitchen was all her too. With a tufted cream couch and teal accent chairs surrounding an oversized white coffee table, and all wrapping around a large fireplace, above which she had a giant, ornate mirror. On the mantle, her prized collection of snowglobes. The one I got her in Russia right beside all the others.

  No TV.

  There were a few books on the coffee table - a mix of recent chart-toppers and true crime.

  The whole space even smelled of her. Of the perfume that clung to her skin. Light and sweet, not a scent you would expect from her, making me wonder if there was a story behind it. There was always a story behind all her little bits. It made a black hole start in my chest at the idea that I wouldn't get to know them all.

  "Jules?" I called again, turning the corner behind the living room to head down a hall lined with bulky white frames around pictures of her family.

  There were three doors in all. Two beds and a bath, I imagined.

  It was standing there that I finally heard something.

  Mumbling.

  Low, female mumbling.

  Never knowing Jules to be a mumbler, I made my way toward the sound with brows drawn low, pushing open the door at the end of the hall, finding the master bedroom.

  Again, all her.

  The dove gray walls, the king-sized bed with a tufted white headboard, white comforter, white pillows, white nightstands and dresser. The lamps on either side of the bed were oversized, glass, with crystals dangling to catch the light.

  There was a vanity on the free wall, something antique, making me wonder if it had belonged to her grandmother who had passed the winter before, just repainted white to match her taste. A silver tray sat atop, the only space in the entire apartment that I had seen so far that was cluttered. Littered with countless bits of makeup, brushes, and other various things I didn't recognize.

  The mumbling was louder, coming from the sole door beside the dresser, the top of which was lined with candles and flowers.

  Still... no TV.

  But as I got closer, I saw a small dock hidden behind a white flower arrangement. Because Jules might not have watched TV, but she was a big music fan.

  The closet door was open, revealing an oversized space lined with sturdy built-ins with carefully organized clothing, shoe, and handbag selections.

  And then there she was.

  The mumbler.

  Jules.

  Her back was to me, her body kneeling down in a back corner of the closet.

  She was in her wedding dress.

  What the hell was she doing in her wedding dress, digging around in her closet, talking to herself like a crazy person?

  "Where is it? Where the fuck is it?"

  My lips turned up without me even realizing. Because, while she was completely surrounded by men - and women - who cussed like sailors, I was pretty sure I had never heard her curse.

  Unless an occasional 'hell' or 'damn' counted. Which they didn't.

  She certainly never dropped f-bombs like a pro like she had just now, with the savagery that came with practice.

  "Hey, Jules..." I tried again.

  "Something. There has to be something."

  Her voice had hitched.

  I hadn't imagined that.

  It had hitched.

  Like she was crying.

  Crying.

  There was no stopping the little kick to my gut at the idea.

  Because this woman could handle any untold amounts of pressure at work without so much as getting snippy with any of us or the clients. Save for maybe Gunner. But that was their own issue.

  Nothing made her break her stride, made her lose her cool.

  I certainly never saw the woman get teary-eyed, let alone cry.

  If that bastard hurt her...

  "Jules," I tried again, moving forward, pressing my hand down onto her shoulder.

  She didn't start.

  She didn't even seem to notice as she continued rifling through a box, throwing various items to the side, her perfectly manicured hands feeling the pockets of clothing items before tossing them.

  Male clothing items.

  Gary's clothing items.

  "Jules, honey, I'm gonna need you to look at me," I demanded, kneeling down beside her, reaching to close my hand around her pale arm, giving it a small tug, forcing her to notice me through her little, well, mental breakdown.

  That seemed to get through.

  Her hands stilled while holding a pair of slacks, the fingers long, fine-boned, the nails perfectly manicured a light pink, her giant diamond gleaming on the fourth finger of her left hand. A finger that should have had another band with it by now.

  A hard breath shuddered out of her body, her shoulders falling, her head turning.

  Black mascara was smeared under
her eyes, dried ribbons of it down her cheeks.

  She'd been crying.

  Not just a little bit, either.

  Not judging by the way the mascara had slipped off her chin to drop onto the champagne color of her wedding dress.

  I hadn't looked at it.

  The night I had gone to pick it up.

  Oddly, I wanted the surprise of it.

  A luxury that was really meant for Gary, not me.

  But I hadn't wanted to spoil it.

  And here it was.

  Spoiled by tears.

  Before I could even see it in all its glory.

  All I could see from her kneeled position was that the length skimmed the floor, tight up through the hip and stomach, floating outward near the thighs, and rouching around the bodice.

  She'd gone understated with the jewelry, just wearing the tiny golden cross her grandmother had given her on her communion, as she almost always wore, and simple pearl studs clasped to her ears.

  Her gorgeous hair was pulled back, as it pretty much always was. At work, usually a more severe look. Now, it was parted off-center, drawn to one side, and pulled into a knot right below and behind her ear.

  Beautiful.

  It would have been beautiful.

  Were her eyes not completely freaking panic-stricken.

  Not sad.

  Not devastated as you would think if her groom ran off on her wedding day, not heart-broken as the tears would suggest.

  Just freaked.

  Worried.

  Unsure.

  I'd known this woman for years.

  I had never seen her look unsure of herself before.

  To see it now, that was a goddamned sin.

  Especially on her wedding day, in her wedding dress, kneeling in her closet when she should have been sealing the deal with a kiss.

  Her lips, lightly tinted with a pale rose lipstick, fell open, at a loss for what to say as she stared at me.

  It took a long moment before words came out of her.

  Words I never could have anticipated when it looked like her world was falling apart by the moment.

  "You cut your hair."

  It almost sounded like an accusation.

  "Thought it was time for something new," I told her, shrugging it off.

  Her brows drew down, analyzing this, and clearly deciding it made no sense whatsoever.

  "You're supposed to be across town right now," I reminded her as though she could possibly forget such a thing.

  "My family..." The words broke out of her, a shattered sound.

  "Miller let them know that they need to hang tight until I got word back to them."

  "You came," she mumbled, gaze suddenly dropping to her own lap.

  "Of course I came. I'll always come if you need me to."

  And she clearly needed me to.

  Even if she wouldn't ask for my help.

  Even if her pride would never allow for it.

  "Jules..." I called when her gaze stayed fixed downward.

  Her head shook, refusing eye-contact.

  "Hey," I tried again, voice going softer as my hand reached out, gently snagging her chin, pulling her face up, waiting for a long moment before her lashes would flutter back upward, giving me a flash of that brilliant light blue that had caught me so off-guard the first time I saw her.

  Before I saw the hair.

  Before I saw the freckles.

  Before I even saw her body.

  It was those eyes.

  Bright, smart, confident.

  But right now, all I saw there was defeat.

  Unable to stop it, my thumb moved out, stroking up her jaw a bit before I forced my hand to drop, reminding myself that this was hardly the time for that, that I was not her comfort person, no matter how many times I had attempted to establish myself as such.

  "What's going on, Jules?"

  -

  Flashback - 1 month before -

  The office was quiet.

  It always was at night.

  That was when Jules secretly enjoyed it the most.

  She often thrived on the chaos. She was in her zone when the phones were ringing off the hook, when the intercom was barking orders at her, when files were being thrown on her desk, when she needed to make five coffees while trying to deal with hysterical new clients.

  But there was something nice about when everyone filed out, when she was locked into the office by herself, cleaning up the waiting area, re-stocking the coffee station, reorganizing her desk, just getting things ready for the next day.

  It was a habit she learned from her mom who learned it from her grandmother.

  They never went to bed at night without spending twenty minutes cleaning up the counters and tables, loading up the dishwasher, running a quick vacuum if it was needed.

  There was nothing like waking up to a neat environment, it made you feel like you were ahead of the day before it even began.

  It was a habit she brought into the office.

  Which was why she stayed back later than anyone else, even if the bulk of her work was done. It gave her the opportunity to hit the ground running in the morning when things were often chaotic while the men and Miller filed in, dealing with new or existing clients.

  Music hummed to her through the speakers, a small luxury she only allowed late at night when she was alone. She always played music at her desk quietly, just loudly enough that it allowed her to keep her sanity when things got crazy.

  But it was surrounding her now, a hug of sound to help her decompress after a crazy day.

  She was leaning over her desk, wiping the surface with a cleaning wipe when she heard the code being punched into the lock.

  She didn't bother to look up, knowing Gunner was working a job that might bring him back into the office.

  The two hadn't gotten along since the day she started working there, always grating on each other's nerves, so there was no reason to look up, possibly initiate a conversation neither of them wanted to have.

  But as soon as the door slammed, she heard a voice that was decidedly not Gunner's mumbling.

  "Just an easy two-minute meeting," Kai's voice grumbled, making her head shoot up.

  Mainly because Kai was not one prone to things like mumbling and grumbling.

  Kai was all light and heart and a laid-back kind of charm that made him easy to be around, a good balance to all the overly strong personalities in the office.

  She hadn't known he'd been out on a job. It must have been something Quin threw at him last minute after he had already left for the day.

  But there was no mistaking it, he'd been on a case.

  Because he had been roughed up.

  His long hair was barely still wrapped in the bun it'd been in earlier, hanging loosely on the side of his head.

  His eye was darkened, his lip split, blood splattering his white tee.

  Rough.

  She had never seen him look so rough before.

  In fact, sometimes it was easy to forget that his particular niche in the business came with a certain degree of danger. More so, in some ways, than many of the others on the team.

  Because Kai was the one who showed up and delivered news that was most often unfavorable to the person receiving it.

  He was like a real-life version of the old saying about shooting messengers.

  And, clearly, whatever news he had just delivered had not gone down the way Quin had suggested it might if it put the usually jovial Kai in a sour mood.

  "Are you alright?" she heard herself ask without having been conscious of even thinking the words.

  Kai's head shot up, almost like he hadn't expected her there. Even though the light was on, the music was playing, and, well, she was almost always there.

  "Fine," he growled.

  Growled.

  And with nothing more, stalked down the hallway to his office, slamming the door a bit as he went.

  She found her eyes watching the space he had vacated. A strange
, undeniable tightening in her core had her stiffening, sure she was misinterpreting it, trying to convince herself it was hunger or cramps or a miserable case of stomach flu.

  Not what she had a sneaking suspicion it actually was.

  Not when she was engaged to someone else.

  Not when she realized several months before that Kai was, well, over her.

  Once and for all.

  That that door was closed.

  Slammed shut.

  She'd swore she even heard steel bars clicking into place, locking her out.

  Shutting off a possibility she had convinced herself she didn't want in the first place.

  But this feeling, this one she was trying to deny, yeah, it was making her realize she hadn't proved it to herself.

  Not completely.

  Maybe in her head.

  But not the other parts of her.

  Damn.

  TWO

  Jules

  There had to be something.

  There was always something.

  No matter how small.

  Small things led to bigger things that led to figuring it all out. If you looked hard enough. If you were dedicated enough.

  I knew this because I had eaten, slept, and breathed this world for years. Because I learned from the best of the best.

  A team of fixers with various skills who took me in, trusted me, allowed me to learn the secrets of the trade, all the little ways dirt could be hidden, so I knew how to uncover it for myself should I need to.

  And now I needed to.

  So I had to find something.

  Some breadcrumb.

  Some speck of dust.

  Some piece of paper.

  Some freaking reason.

  Yes, a reason would be most welcome.

  Least logical, of course.

  I had learned from Quin that the why was not all that important in the grand scheme of things.

  But that was back when it didn't matter, when it was impersonal, when it was someone else's life being turned on its axis.

  I suddenly had a lot more respect for the men and women in the office who held it together when their lives turned chaotic, sending them to Quin for help.

  I mean, sure, a lot of them broke down. Raged. Cried. Shut completely off from the world and themselves.