Page 1 of Wretched Heart
Chapter 1
Hunter
There 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 likelyto 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’mlisteningto 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.
