Reclaiming His Wife Read online

  Reclaiming His Wife

  Madison Faye

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Epilogue

  Also by Madison Faye

  Mailing List

  About the Author

  Copyright Notice

  Copyright © 2019 Madison Faye

  Cover: Coverlüv

  Photography: Eric David Battershell

  Models: Mike Chabot, Cindy-Ann Bourdeau

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  1

  Russell

  I’m about to steal a bride from her own wedding.

  The bike thunders under me, roaring down the highway like bat out of hell. My jaw is tight, my mouth a thin, grim line as my rough hands grip the handlebars. The highway lights flash like memories over the bare muscles of my forearm, illuminating scars and ink. Up ahead, I can see the Chicago skyline breaking the horizon, and my eyes narrow as my blood pumps like diesel fuel.

  I’m back. Five fucking years later, I’ve come home. With more ink. With a lot more scars. With vengeance blazing through my heart.

  Five years were stolen from me, after I was left to die in the desert of Afghanistan. Hell, everyone I know was even told I died back there in that place. Friends, loved ones, parents.

  Juliana.

  They fucking buried me back here. They held vigils. They made their peace with me being gone as best they could. But the truth is, I wasn’t dead, even if the Taliban prison I’ve called home for the last eighteen-hundred or so days might as well have been death. A hole in the ground. A pit. A layer of hell I fought my way through every single day, for five years, just to get back here.

  To her.

  Jahannam was Hell on Earth. Fuck, the place means “hell” in Arabic. Except, I beat the devil, and I took my soul back. I walked through fire and brimstone, and bled, and fought my way out of the darkness.

  And I did it all for her.

  For my wife.

  Five years of my life gone? That’s some shit, but I could deal with that. I mean five years stolen is no small thing, but I could wrap my head around it, if I had to. But it wasn’t just five years of my life that was taken. It was five years of hers, of Juliana’s. My wife. My one and only. My everything.

  War is hell. We all knew it going in. Every man and woman who serves knows the risks. I knew the outcome could be losing her, but I also knew and still know what the cost of freedom is. I know the price that’s due for our way of life. And even before I enlisted in the Marines, I knew that peace back home meant a blood sacrifice over there. So, I expected the enemy to be brutal. I excepted him to be vicious, and unmerciful.

  I never expected it from one of our own, though. None of us did. My jaw tightens, and I can feel the blood searing through my veins like fire, like it always does when I think of him.

  His name Darren fucking Wallace. A coward. A traitor to his brothers and his country. The snake we let in, and the snake that bit twice. First, he took five years of my life. He murdered our brothers and left me to die in the hands of our enemies. But now, he’s after something bigger. Something worth more to me than any number of days of my life. Tonight, he’s trying to take from me what’s mine.

  …Tonight, Darren Wallace is about to marry my wife.

  The roar bellows out of my chest in pure fury, like snarl of a beast set free of its cage. I glance next to me, seeing the wide, freaked-out eyes of a family in a minivan as they stare at me like I’m some kind of maniac. Maybe I am. Maybe five years in a pit in the desert has stripped me of my humanity a little. Or a lot. Or maybe the thought of that piece of shit laying hands on my woman has me ready to tear my fucking skin off.

  Maybe after five years without her, I am a beast.

  I ignore the minivan and rev the throttle, thundering the bike forward towards the city. Darren thought he could take my life. He thought he could destroy me and bury me in that hell. He thought he could leave me to die while he came back home to take what was mine.

  He thought he could take my wife, and he’s dead fucking wrong.

  I fought the devil, and I won. I walked through fire and death to crawl out of that hole and take back my life. And now? Now I’m on my way to take her back, too.

  The engine thunders, the roar bellows from my throat again, and my eyes lock onto the twinkling lights of Chicago as the sky turns to dusk.

  I’m going to reclaim my wife. I’m going to reclaim what’s mine, and there’ll be hell to pay for anyone who stands in my way.

  2

  Juliana

  And here we are.

  I take a breath, trying to steady my nerves as I hear the organ music playing from inside the chapel, through the big wooden doors I’m standing in front of. The stupid, gauzy white veils tickle my nose, and I mutter to myself as I blow at it.

  Fucking thing.

  The dress—the one that was picked for me, I might add—billows around me in huge poofy… well, poofs. I feel like a fucking cartoon princess. Like I should have a chorus of woodland creatures singing behind me. Except if this was a movie, there’s be a prince charming swooping in to save me, and I know that’s not happening.

  I breathe again, my nerves jangling as the organ music plays on.

  Yes, it’s my wedding. But no, my nerves aren’t the sort of nerves brides get right before they walk down the aisle. These aren’t “oh this is the happiest day of my life” nerves. They aren’t “I’m so excited and can’t wait for the rest of our lives!” nerves. Hell no.

  These nerves are dread.

  My hands tighten around the gaudy, over-done bouquet in my hands. I stare to try and block everything else out around me, when my eyes lock onto the pristine white calla lilies as part of the arrangement, something tightens inside of me.

  …Calla lilies are what he used to bring me.

  Russell.

  …My husband.

  Or, ex-husband. Or, fuck, whatever they call it. I still can’t bring myself to say my dead husband, because… well, because I just can’t. Because I can’t go there in my head, still, even five years later. I know what they said. What Darren, and then the Marine Corps said. I know there’s a star with his name on it somewhere in some building in Washington D.C. And yet, I still can’t accept it. Not totally.

  How can I, with a man like Russell? With a man who was my everything, who made me feel like I was the queen of his world. A man who was my best friend, my only love, my only lover.

  And damn what a lover. I blush a little under my veil as my mind goes there, thinking of the way Russell used to run his hand over me, or his tongue, or the way he’d hold me tight to his perfect, rock-hard body as he slid inside of me. I’m aware of how grotesquely inappropriate it is for me be having little fantasies right before I walk down the aisle to another man, but I don’t care.

  Mostly because I don’t give a shit about Darren.

  So instead, with the calla lilies in my hand and this farce of a wedding getting ready to happen, my thoughts stay with Russell.

  With my love.

  My lips twist in my teeth as I stare at the flowers, the thought coming into my head that’s been there basically
every day for five years: I never should have let him go off to war, even if I know who I married. A warrior. My warrior. Then he was gone.

  Some who lose loved ones over there, they can cling to hope, no matter how bad it seems. Those are the ones with husbands or wives “missing in action.” It’s slim, and it’s brutal and I’m sure heartbreaking in its own right. But there’s hope, however miniscule.

  There’s no hope when its “killed in action.” There’s no comfort in the folded flag handed over by white gloves and with a crisp salute. The medal of honor on the mantle of the condo we used to share doesn’t hold me tight at night or kiss me awake in the morning. I mourned Russell for four and a half years.

  No, fuck that I’m still mourning him.

  I look down at the wedding dress flowing out around me—white, pure, virginal. God after five years, I might as well be. I take a shaky breath.

  Just breathe.

  “It’s all so exciting! Are you ready!?”

  I glance at the gushing, bubbly wedding planner standing by me, and I imagine horse poop landing on her head. Maybe that would shut her up, because so far, my sour looks haven’t.

  “Yes, she’s a very lucky girl, aren’t you, Juliana?”

  I want to cringe when he touches me. Mitchell Wallace, my husband-to-be’s father. Also, the one walking me down the aisle for this charade, which makes me want to scream even more.

  I’ve already had a perfect wedding. And a perfect marriage. For years, I had perfection, with the man I loved. But this train-wreck? This is the opposite. Russell and I had a small ceremony with just friends and family. This is gaudy and gross. My father was still well enough to walk me and give me away the first time. But even if he was still walking around, I wouldn’t want him walking me down this aisle. Even so, Darren’s father doing it just seals the whole poisonous thing. This feels wrong. It is wrong, but there’s no escape. Because this whole thing is about a lot more than me.

  Specifically, it’s about Cardellini Food Group, LLC.

  Yes, that Cardellini. Everyone knows the name. Everyone’s seen the logo in just about every grocery store in the country. It’s a nation-wide, multi-million-dollar company. And to be precise, it’s my company. Well, my family’s. Cardellini is my maiden name, before I took Kane from Russell. Which means the company will be mine someday. Or, would have been. Okay, still will, but there’s a price tag now.

  With my mother passing a few years back, and my father’s health going, things started to not look too good. And it got worse when the board finally looked into the books and realized how bad things had gotten. My dad was always a firm captain of his ship, but after my mother’s passing, he just checked out, and the company showed it. Numbers were fudged more and more; production mistakes went unchecked. And now, Cardellini Foods is on the brink of bankruptcy.

  No one knows outside me and the board. Well, and Darren and his father.

  Because that’s where Darren came in. Darren, who fought with Russell. Darren who I’ve never really liked, and always thought was a creep. Darren who somehow survived when the whole squad, my husband included, died in the desert. Darren whose father is a famously nasty Wall Street corporate raider, who’s made a name for himself for going after struggling companies and buying them up cheap. I’d have thrown their offer in their face, until Darren made a different one.

  And it’s a devil’s deal.

  First, the company stays running. Everyone who works there keeps their jobs, and Cardellini Food Group will even keep the same name. Darren and his father will bail the company out of its considerable debt after paying my father a decent amount for the company. And they’ll do all that for small little price.

  Me.

  The deal is, they save the company, but I have to marry Darren.

  And it’s happening right now.

  The doors open, and a cold dreaded shiver runs down my spine as the organ music washes over me. This isn’t a wedding, it’s a funeral. This is a final burial for the love I once had. But it’s the only way to save the company that’s been in my family for four generations. The annoying wedding planner touches my arm, and I shake it off. Mitchell grabs my elbow, and I grimace.

  “Time to make Darren a lucky man, eh?” He chuckles.

  I say nothing. This is treason of the heart is what it is. But there’s no escape. I only thank God my dad’s not here, or Russell’s parents, for God’s sake. They know, obviously, and I know they even understand why. I mean I had to tell them why. But I’m glad they’re not here to see this.

  Forgive me, I whisper to myself, hating every step as we walk through the doors. It’s a blur as we step down the aisle for the alter. Or in this case, it might as well be a guillotine. Darren’s right there, grinning at me wickedly.

  I feel nauseous.

  I’ve avoided any physical contact with him. Not even a fucking kiss. I know he’s mostly after me for the company that comes with me. But that said, he’s made it clear what’s happening after this ceremony, and those words of his make me want to throw up.

  “Soon,” he whispers lecherously as I move to stand next to him. He winks, leaning closer, the smell of booze on his breath.

  “Can’t wait to take that dress off that hot bod and finally get a little taste.”

  I cringe as the priest clears his throat, looking uncomfortable.

  Not as much as me, father. I mutter to myself.

  The crowd sits, the organ stops, and the priest clears his throat.

  I close my eyes, hoping it’s all over soon.

  “We are gathered here—”

  There’s a roaring sound of an engine from outside the church, and my eyes fly open. My heart freezes.

  …I know that engine. It’s insane, because it can’t be, but I know what I know.

  The engine roars again before coming to a stop. There’s a moment of silence when the priest clears his throat to continue, when suddenly, the big wooded doors I’ve just come through bang back open, and the crowd gasps in horror.

  I turn, I look through my veil, and I see it, but my eyes don’t believe it. They can’t, because what I’m seeing is impossible.

  My hands tremble as they reach for the veil. The figure storms through the doors of the church, moving right for me, fire brimming in his eyes. My blood roars in my ears.

  It can’t be.

  Except, it is.

  I yank the veil off, my eyes go wide, and my jaw drops. The man blazes down the aisle like storm, blowing past the wide-eyed guests and climbing the three steps to the alter. Until suddenly, like a ghost from my past, he’s standing right in front of me, those dark stormy eyes of his scorching into mine. My heart soars.

  “It—it can’t be…” I whisper, my voice choking.

  There’s that grin—the way his perfect lips curl at the corners.

  “And why not, beautiful?”

  The voice I’ve only heard in dreams and old videos hits me like a blast of wind, knocking me back before I lunge for him. And suddenly his arms are there, holding me, touching me, gripping me so tight as I fall into him. The gaps and protests of the crowd blur away and fade to nothing.

  I look into Russell’s eyes—I look into my husband’s eyes—and my heart starts to gallop. And when his hands circle me and pull me into his orbit, I fall willingly.

  This can’t be real, but there’s nothing imaginary about the heat of him against me, or those eyes holding my awe-struck gaze.

  “You—”

  “I said I’d always come back for you, Juliana,” he whispers, his voice almost cracking as his hands tighten on me and his eyes blaze.

  “Not even death would keep me from you.”

  The kiss comes hard and fast, and I’m drowning in his lips as everything else on Earth melts away. Russell kisses me deeply, and nothing else matters. Suddenly, it’s like I’m whole again. Like I can breathe again. And I have no idea how long we just stand there locked lip-to-lip on that alter, but when he slowly pulls away, it’s like there’s a s
hade being pulled away from the window of my life.

  Slowly, his smile fades, and this fierce fury clouds over his face. He whirls, making me gasp at his intensity as he suddenly rushes Darren. My would-be-husband shrieks as Russell slams him back, eliciting a collective gasp from the crowd. His hand circles Darren’s neck, and I can see the veins popping out on his muscled arms as he grits his teeth, snarling at Darren.

  “You,” he hisses, rage boiling off of his shoulders like smoke. “You—”

  “Russell! Man!” Darren smiles weakly, his face the color of chalk as he feigns a crooked smile. “You’re—you’re alive, man! I can’t—”

  “Stop it.”

  The whole place goes silent at the pure power in Russell’s voice. He’s shaking, his hand tightening on Darren’s neck, and I can almost see the fire blazing out of his eyes.

  “Run,” he spits at Darren through clenched teeth. “Run and hide in the smallest, darkest, dankest little hole you can find. The only reason you’re not dead right now is that I won’t be kept from her anymore. Not by you, and not for killing you.”

  Darren starts to open his mouth, but he whimpers as Russell slams him back into the wall again.

  “You’re alive right now because I choose not to kill you. You’re alive because you’re going to live to regret it all, Darren.”

  He whirls back, and I gasp at the fierceness as he suddenly scoops me up into his arms. My pulse races as my hands slide around his neck, my eyes locked on his as he turns and starts to carry me down the steps from the alter A few people run forward to stop him, but one snarl from his perfect lips, and they shrink away.

  “Let’s go, beautiful,” he whispers.

  “Where?” I hold his biceps tight.

  “Anywhere. As long as I’ve got you.”

  Russell strolls right down the aisle, me in his arms, stealing me from my own wedding.