The leather that I’d picked from a motherfucking magazine.
The leather that’d seen no one’s ass but mine—and not even bare.
Anger welled up inside of me, and I finally took my eyes off the man’s balls sticking to my seat to the man’s face, and that’s about when everything exploded.
Because it wasn’t bad enough that they were fucking on my seat.
No, Destiny was fucking a man on my bike that was my cousin.
My cousin that made my younger years a living hell by teasing me about my pretty looks, and my girl hands.
Hands that I’d made sure were strong and rough over the years by doing what I loved—being a swordsmith.
Somehow I found my Colt .45 in my hand, and somehow I pointed it at the man’s head.
And before you get all bent out of shape, the safety was on.
He, however, did not know that.
Tapping on the glass with the gun, I made sure that the laser in the grips was activated, and pointed right at about eye level.
So when he turned toward the sound of my tapping, he got a red laser straight to the eye, causing him to look up and blink at me in confusion.
I let up off the laser, allowing him to see just what was waiting for him, causing him to freeze.
“Get off my bike,” I growled.
The window muffled the words, I was sure, but he got the gist fairly fast.
Hopping off and dislodging Destiny’s pussy that was taking his pee-wee sized cock, I watched dispassionately as she fell to the ground in a wet pile of dirt and mud, causing Destiny to cry out in confusion.
She looked up at Kenneth, my asshole cousin, in misunderstanding, who was busy trying to tuck his tiny pecker back into his perfectly tailored slacks, and followed his gaze.
I let my real feelings out from behind the veil I was containing them with, and Destiny understood completely.
She was boned.
Well and truly boned.
***
Verity
Two days later
I was excited.
This was my last dress fitting before the big day in two weeks.
Which would be the day that I married the man I loved, Kenneth Lee Reacher. I would be Mrs. Kenneth Reacher, and I thought that had a mighty nice ring to it.
Giddy beyond belief, I took a hold of Randi’s hand, my best friend in the whole wide world, and started marching with purpose to the front door of the best dress shop in Toxey, also known as my Good Grandma’s place.
“Grandma!” I cried as I opened the door.
I was confronted with my grandma’s most annoying employee, Tiffany, and instantly I wilted.
“Is my grandma here, Tiffany?” I asked as nicely as I was able.
“No. Mrs. Cassidy is out of the office until tomorrow afternoon. What can I help you with?” Tiffany asked sweetly.
I narrowed my eyes.
My grandma wouldn’t be out of the office unless this witch of a woman hadn’t told her that I was coming. Which I most certainly relayed to Tiffany this morning on the phone when I’d called.
Fucking bitch.
“I’m here to try my wedding dress on,” I murmured.
Tiffany’s eyes moved down my body with barely disguised disdain, and I had to tighten my hand on Randi’s hand to keep her from moving forward and plastering her fist in Tiffany’s face.
It wouldn’t do to steal my grandmother’s longest standing employee, even if she was a bitch.
She was a hard worker, and she was good at her job, something in which my grandmother informed me of each and every time I made mention of how shitty she was.
“Okay,” Tiffany’s smile was weird.
Like she was trying to hide something.
Something that I wasn’t going to like.
A weird feeling started to filter into my thoughts, and I worried that there was something wrong with my dress…like she’d intentionally altered it too small so I wouldn’t fit into it.
And that would be embarrassing, because I already had enough trouble with my weight. I didn’t need that extra worry of having to get my dress altered again two weeks before my wedding.
“Right this way,” Tiffany waved her arm.
I glared at her back, and her tight little black dress that was painted onto her like a second skin.
She looked good in it, but I couldn’t figure out why she dressed like that when she was supposed to be making brides more comfortable on one of the most important days of their lives—not making them feel inferior with her dress.
But that was just me.
Maybe other ladies didn’t have the same problem that I did.
“She’s such a bitch,” Randi grumbled under her breath. “Do you think your grandmother would hate me if I tripped her and made her break her face?”
I squeezed Randi’s hand.
“Don’t.”
Tiffany pushed into the room where I’d been fitted for the last six months, and I came to a dead halt when I saw my dress.
On another woman’s body.
“What. The. Fuck,” Randi screeched.
Most people didn’t understand Randi’s and my relationship.
They thought we were lesbians, which couldn’t be further from the truth.
We were best friends, and had been since we were in Pre-K.
We shared everything together, and that was something that Kenneth hated.
He hated sharing me with Randi, and I guess that should’ve been my first indication that Kenneth wasn’t all that he was cracked up to be.
But I kept kicking things under the rug, hiding them when I should’ve been letting them all out of the dark and bringing them into the light.
Because if I had, I might’ve realized that things weren’t as good as I thought they were.
That there were things going on that were affecting our relationship.
But I didn’t, and that’s why the next five minutes went over like a truck crashing into a small economy car.
I sat there, motionless, as I watched the blonde woman turn around, my dress fitting her perfectly, and stare at me with a secret smile on her face.
“What the heck is going on?” I asked Tiffany.
Tiffany’s face was the picture of innocence. “I was informed by Kenneth two days ago that this was to be fitted to Destiny’s liking. Is that wrong?”
Is that wrong?
“What?” I asked, confusion clouding my features.
I couldn’t think straight.
Why would Kenneth care about another woman’s body fitting into my wedding dress? Unless that dress wasn’t my dress at all, but an almost exact replica.
It was about four sizes smaller than the one that I’d had.
Surely that wasn’t my dress.
Surely.
“That’s not my dress, is it?” I asked, relief flooding through me. “But why would Kenneth care what she wears?”
I didn’t even know her.
How did Kenneth know her?
Speaking of the devil, my phone rang, and I pulled my phone up to my ear and answered immediately.
“Kenneth,” I said. “I’m trying to get my dress tried on, and some lady is here wearing a dress that they say you ordered her to wear and have fitted to her liking.”
“Shit,” Kenneth cursed. “V, we need to talk.”