Mr. & Mrs. Read online

  Contents

  Mr. & Mrs.

  DESCRIPTION

  Chapter One - FIVE

  Chapter Two - MAC

  Chapter Three - NOLAN

  Chapter Four - WEST

  Chapter Five - PAX

  Chapter Six - OLLIE

  Chapter Seven - FIVE

  Chapter Eight - MAC

  Chapter Nine - NOLAN

  Chapter Ten - WEST

  Chapter Eleven - PAX

  Chapter Twelve - OLLIE

  Chapter Thirteen - FIVE

  Chapter Fourteen - MAC

  Chapter Fifteen - NOLAN

  Chapter Sixteen - WEST

  Chapter Seventeen - PAX

  Chapter Eighteen - OLLIE

  Chapter Nineteen - FIVE

  Chapter Twenty - MAC

  Chapter Twenty-One - NOLAN

  Chapter Twenty-Two - WEST

  Chapter Twenty-Three - PAX

  Chapter Twenty-Four - OLLIE

  Chapter Twenty-Five - FIVE

  Chapter Twenty-Six - MAC

  Chapter Twenty-Seven - NOLAN

  Chapter Twenty-Eight - WEST

  Chapter Twenty-Nine - PAX

  Chapter Thirty - OLLIE

  Chapter Thirty-One - FIVE

  END OF BOOK SHIT

  About the Author

  By J. A. Huss

  Edited by RJ Locksley

  Copyright © 2017 by J. A. Huss

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-978-1-944475-30-7

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  DESCRIPTION

  Mr. Perfect, Mr. Romantic, Mr. Corporate, Mr. Mysterious, and Mr. Match found what they were looking for and now it’s time to seal the deal. Five Aston hasn’t quite found his happily ever after yet… not quite. But he will. And he’s about to host the party of the century for all his family and friends.

  If you loved Happily Ever After, you can’t miss this one either. It’s the delicious cherry on top of the most perfect dessert and all your favorite characters will be back for one… final… swoon-worthy story.

  Chapter One - FIVE

  My queen is scared as she looks out over our little lagoon in the Caribbean. I’m holding her hand, squeezing it tight, anticipating her emotions as they ebb and swell like the waves crashing on our private island beach.

  “It’s gonna be fine,” I whisper into her ear, trying to get my words past the wind.

  She nods, but her eyes never leave the horizon.

  Mr. Perfect is coming first. I know that much. And while we’re both excited about that, he and Ellie aren’t the Mr. and Mrs. we’re anticipating the most.

  It’s Cindy she wants to see. And Ariel. And Belle, and Jasmine, and Oliver. And her parents, but it’s mostly Cindy and Oliver today. The rest of her family are coming tomorrow night to get ready for the weddings.

  We’ve seen her parents—and Belle—over the past fifteen years. Quite often, actually. Several times a year, but it’s never been enough. Jasmine, Ariel, Oliver and Cindy though… she hasn’t seen them since she ‘died’. She hasn’t talked to them. We have strict rules about her safety. I gave her an app back when we cheated death and I hid her away on this island. An app her family could use to talk to her. It’s called Dead Notes—a little pun on the Love Notes app I made for her when I was fifteen and we were looking at our first real separation. Her family can call her phone number, hear her voicemail greeting, and then leave a message. If Rory were really dead she’d never get those messages, but it would make the family left behind feel better.

  She’s not dead. So she did get those messages. And so many of them were filled with tears and sadness, I wanted to take the app away.

  Of course I couldn’t do that. It was her lifeline to her brother and sisters.

  But today… today all those messages from the family she’s been missing will come in person. Face to face.

  She’s scared and I don’t blame her. I’m scared too. I kept this secret from Oliver for fifteen years. And yeah, back then he was just a kid. But he’s not a kid now.

  I think he’s gonna kick my ass.

  I think I deserve to get my ass kicked.

  I think I’m looking forward to it. It’s gonna be a relief to bring them all in on our secret.

  Then we hear it, the tell-tale sound of a helicopter’s rotors echoing off the sky. We can’t see it yet, but Rory leans forward just as Isabella and Anastasia, our twelve-year-old twins, come up on either side of us. The younger girls, Mathilda, who is seven, and Louise, who is five, are both back at the house playing. They are still innocent and have no clue why we live on this island.

  “Is that them, Daddy?” Isa asks.

  “That’s them,” I say.

  “McCallister and Ellie,” Ana says. “He’s a well-known philanthropist and she’s a writer. His net worth is—”

  “Stop it, Ana,” Isa says. “No one cares what he’s worth.”

  “I just like to have my facts straight,” Ana retorts, defensively.

  I look over at Rory and catch her smile. Our twins are so different. They aren’t even identical. Isa has brown hair and brown eyes, like me, while Ana has blue eyes and blonde hair, like Rory. But Ana is my little analytical girl, while Isa is my little daddy’s girl. Given the chance, Ana might take over the world one day—Isa will be content to mother everyone.

  If they ever get to leave this island, that is.

  They’ve been all over the world, but only on yachts and private planes, and everywhere we go, we have to skirt around customs. They’ve been smuggled in and out of more places than I can count. They have more fake birth certificates and passports than I can count and they’ve never been to school. But they are worldly in every way that counts. They are educated. I’ve made sure of that. They are fluent in three languages, are well on their way to mastering calculus, and they know how to socialize, even if it’s only with the well-hidden children of other outlaws.

  Our island is massive by island standards. One hundred and twenty-two acres that holds a good proportion of jungle and cliffs to wander through and climb over, as well as three beaches. We have a stable of ponies—because no daughter of ours could possibly pass through childhood without a pony—and a garage filled with dirt bikes. Because according to their maternal grandfather, every girl needs to know how to ride a bike.

  “Look!” Isa exclaims, pointing to the sky. “There it is!”

  The helicopter is still a ways off, but it grows bigger as it approaches the island helipad.

  Rory squeezes my hand tighter, if that’s possible. “Here we go.” She sighs.

  “Don’t worry, Mommy,” Isa says, ever looking for an opportunity to comfort someone. She’s got Rory’s other hand, while Ana stands by her side, shading her eyes from the sun. “Everyone will love us and life will be normal again. You just watch.”

  We’ve told them everything. From the very beginning. When they were babies we made it into a fairytale. You are special princesses, hidden from the world to keep you safe. But a few years ago we started adding to the story.

  People might want to hurt you, just because of who you are. You have to learn certain skills to keep yourselves safe.

  They studied jujitsu relentlessly since they were old enough to follow instructions. We have a shooting range, and they are both well on the way to mastering that form of self-defense. They have learned to hack, and code, and survive on this island by fishing, and lobstering, and knowing their way around an edible plant. They can sail a boat, are learning to fly my new sea plane, and have taken lessons from their aunt Harp
er on how to command the crew of a yacht.

  I might be turning my little princesses into my older sister, Sasha, but I don’t care. I am their father and I will keep them safe.

  Rory and I don’t see eye to eye on that. She wants them in school. She wants them to be cheerleaders, and go to prom, and fill out college applications. I know the only reason she’s gone along with my survival-skill-based education is so that one day, probably in a few years, she can point to them and say, “See? They have learned to fly. Now let’s let them soar.”

  But I will say no.

  Every. Single. Time.

  The helicopter is close now, and a few seconds later it’s hovering over the helipad, preparing for landing. It will drop off Mac and Ellie, then go back to wait for Nolan, Ivy, and baby Bronte. Everyone is coming separately today. West, Tori, and Ethan will come later on their boat. And I’ll be leaving to pick up Pax, Cindy, Oliver, and Katja in a few hours. They’re over on Pax’s island about fifty miles north of here.

  We’ve taken every precaution. Each of the Misters is coming in stealth. Even though there’s been no sign of Silver Society activity in almost a year, we’re taking no chances.

  Tomorrow, our fathers are in charge of getting people here for the wedding.

  I smile.

  A real wedding with all our families and lots of food. There’s a tent set up, and we’ve flown in a famous band from Amsterdam for music. Ivy Delaney’s father is even going to perform the service.

  Ivy and Nolan are already married, but they eloped the second he found out she was pregnant. This wedding is a promise he made to her father to make up for that faux pas.

  It makes me chuckle to think that Nolan and I actually have something in common aside from the Silver Society. Finally, our queens are getting the wedding they deserve.

  We’ve been waiting so long for this. We’ve dreamed about it. Fantasized about it. Rory has told me every little detail about how she’s always envisioned our wedding and I’m gonna make good on all of it. Right down to our beautiful little princesses being part of it.

  We climb the sand dune that leads over to the helipad just in time to see the helicopter touch down. We’re all barefoot—our normal footwear for so long, we might’ve forgotten how to wear shoes—and the twins’ long hair blows out behind them in the wind as we get closer.

  The ’copter door slides open and Mac jumps out first, ducking his head under the spinning rotors. He reaches inside and then Ellie emerges, taking his hand as he helps her down.

  I smile, happy to see them again. Even though I don’t know them all that well, we’ve been through some shit together. They feel like family. Having a group wedding with him, Cindy, Oliver, and the rest of the Misters… well, I can’t imagine anything more fitting.

  I’m walking towards Perfect, my hand outstretched, ready to shake his and pull him in for a man-to-man clap on the back, when someone else appears in the helicopter doorway.

  “Who’s that?” I ask, more to myself than to Rory.

  But Rory answers anyway. “That’s Ming,” she says over the roar of the helicopter. “Ellie’s best friend. She’s going to be her maid of honor.”

  “Oh,” I say. I’m surprised. Not that Ellie would want her own maid of honor and not use one of Rory’s sisters as a standin, but because no one mentioned her to me before this. I know Ivy’s fine with Belle acting as her maid of honor. She’s become close with all the Shrike sisters since she and Nolan moved away from the resort they run in California and out to Colorado to be close to all the other Mrses. And I know Tori asked Ariel to be her maid of honor—they are thick as thieves and almost always up to no good together. Cindy wanted Jasmine, and Katja didn’t want anyone. She has no family left and she felt this was a way to honor the sister she lost and who couldn’t be here.

  But why didn’t I know Ellie was bringing someone? In fact… how the fuck did I miss that there weren’t enough Shrike sisters to go around for wedding party standins?

  “Did someone do a background check on her?” I ask, irritated at this new development and at my lack of insight.

  “I did,” Rory says. But it’s the way she says it that has me staring at her, waiting for the rest of the explanation. “She’s very important to Ellie.” Rory stops for a moment, just as Mac approaches to take my still outstretched hand.

  “Five,” he bellows. “Good to see you again.”

  “Yeah,” I say, shaking his hand and doing the planned back clap. But I’m totally distracted now, Rory’s words still echoing in my head.

  “Ellie,” Mac shouts over the spinning rotors, just as she and Ming get far enough away from the helicopter so it can take off again. “Have you ever seen such adorable little girls?”

  He’s beaming at my princesses, who are jumping up and down with excitement. We don’t get a lot of visitors.

  I look at Ellie, sure there’s more to this Ming thing, and find her… frowning. But she notices me watching her and the smile appears. She and Rory exchange looks and I catch Rory shaking her head a little out of the corner of my eye.

  What the fuck is going on?

  “Oh, dear,” the Ming person exclaims. “They are perfection. Are you ready for the test, girls?”

  “Test?” I say, not understanding. “What test?” I look over at Rory and she’s wincing. “What the hell is going on, Ror?”

  “Oops,” Ming says. “You said you were going to tell him!”

  “I was just about to,” Rory says.

  “Tell me what?” I ask, getting frustrated. “What are you talking about?”

  “We’re taking a test, Daddy. It was a surprise,” Isa says.

  “Yeah,” Ana says, beaming me a smile. “Surprise! We’re going to school next year. So Ellie brought Ming to be our entrance exam test proctor. You know, so we can get into a good one.”

  “You’re not going to school,” I say.

  “Yes,” Rory says, looking me straight in the eye. “They are. I’ve made up my mind and they’re taking the secondary school admission test. Ellie, Ming, and I have been planning this for months and you will not interfere.”

  She locks arms with Ellie and Ming, like they are a team—solid and unbreakable—and they march off over the dune towards the house chatting about… whatever.

  I look at Perfect, frowning. “Sorry,” he says with a shrug. “I thought you knew.”

  “Don’t be mad, Daddy,” Ana says. “It’s time to let us go.”

  And then she and Isa—the little traitors—take off after their mother, firmly on her side.

  Because my queen has spoken and to them, her word is law.

  Chapter Two - MAC

  Ellie and Ming disappear with… Rory.

  It’s kinda hard to get used to that idea after hearing Cindy, Ariel, and Oliver talk about their dead sister when all that shit with the Silver Society went down last year. But I’m adjusting.

  This island is something else. I mean, I’ve seen Paxton’s islands. The little one and the big one. But this… this is something altogether different. It’s not some blown-out bunker or another rich man’s idea of getaway paradise. It’s… it’s like a private resort. Except only one family lives here.

  There’s a series of bungalows lining the beach we’re staying on. Five in all. One for each of us, plus there’s several more on the other beach down the coast where families will stay when they arrive tomorrow.

  “Why?” I ask Five, turning to look at him. He’s staring at the disappearing figures of the women as they make their way towards the bungalow Ming will stay in.

  “Why what?” he asks absently.

  “Why all…this?” I say, panning my hand to the elaborate setup.

  Five turns to me—reluctantly, almost—and shrugs off whatever’s bothering him. “We were planning on opening a resort when all this shit blew over.”

  “Ah,” I say. “I see.”

  “Yeah,” Five says, sighing. “Things didn’t exactly go the way we planned.”


  “Or quite blow over, either. But hey,” I offer. Because the dude seems a little distracted by what just happened out by the helipad. I’m not sure what this test shit is all about—Ellie didn’t include me in any of her plans. “Things have blown over now. Right?”

  “Have they?” Five asks back. “Rory wants to send our kids to school.”

  “Yeah, and?” I’m not really getting it.

  “They could be targets.”

  “Well.” I laugh. “Come on, man. We’re all targets. We’ve been targets. And from what Cindy and Oliver have told the rest of us, you’re the reason. But my kids—if I ever have any—will most definitely not be hidden away from the world like this.”

  “That’s because you don’t really know how deep this shit runs.”

  I shrug. “I have a good enough idea. But the way I see it, my kids are far better off in the public eye—far safer—than if no one knew about them. Believe me, I’ve tried the hiding shit myself after all that college crap. And the only thing it taught me was that I was running. And you know what?” I ask.

  “What?” Five says, finally looking me in the eye.

  “I’d rather fuckin’ fight than run.”

  He sighs. Shrugs. And then says, “Hey, if you need anything, just pick up that phone. It’ll connect to the house and one of us will pick up.”

  “You got a staff here, Aston?”

  “A few,” he admits. “Trusted people.”

  “Cool,” I say. But he knows where I’m going with that comment. The only safe secret is the one no one knows about. And if people know he’s here, his secret was never safe.

  “And we’ve run background checks on everyone, so we’re good there.”