This Is Now (The Re-Do Series Book 2) Read online

  This Is Now

  Nia Arthurs

  COPYRIGHT

  First published in Belize, C.A. 2016

  Copyright © Nia Arthurs

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be circulated in any writing of any publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  This book has been produced for the Amazon Kindle and is distributed by Amazon Direct Publishing.

  *

  To Rodrigo.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1

  Kendall

  One week ago, the only thing I worried about was getting through Valentine’s Day without curling into a fetal position while hugging a package of Oreos.

  Ah, those were the days.

  Life changed drastically when Lula, my Isuzu Trooper, broke down one morning when I really, really needed her to work. Then again, it could be the meat pie splotch I was rocking that did the real changing.

  I guess it was a group effort.

  Together, the chain of unfortunate circumstances led to me sharing an elevator with Alistair Howard.

  I, obviously (meat-pie-face and all), made an impression. He (magazine-ready-face and all) did a number on me. We went out on one date. One. It was all it took for my entire world to turn completely upside down.

  Here’s just a little summary.

  1. We were attacked by Maveth, Alistair’s crazy ex-rival.

  2. I intentionally rammed my truck into said rival.

  3. Alistair and I (but mostly Alistair) kidnapped Maveth and took him to a secret training room in a well.

  4. Maveth unloaded a bunch of secrets and then killed himself.

  5. Maveth actually faked his death and now he wants to kill me. Well, and Alistair too.

  Did I forget to mention? Alistair is an assassin.

  See! Total craziness! This is why I don’t date!

  Things moved quickly after the revelation that Maveth was still alive. Alistair insisted that I collect all my vacation days from La Ruba and flee the country immediately. It was no longer safe to stay at home. Rooming with anyone else would put them in jeopardy too.

  Fortunately, I had an opportunity to leave without spending a dime. My cousin Charlie has ties with Dust and Ashes, a famous reggae band. Alistair brought her into the fold and told her about his secret life.

  After throwing her shoe at him, my cousin agreed to help put in a good word with the band. Thanks to Charlie and Trey, Charlie’s boyfriend, I got a passage with the band in exchange for cooking their meals. It’s been a dream so far.

  You know… if I ignore the potential death threat hanging over me all the time.

  “Keep glaring into space and you’ll wrinkle.”

  I glance up just as Damien Chen flings himself into the seat beside me. I still have no idea how he convinced Trey, Will, Jace and Morgan to let him come along. I was quite vocal about the unnecessary addition of a personal body guard. Especially one of them.

  To be fair, Damien doesn’t look or act like what I’d assumed an assassin to be. He’s young, cheery, and cracks jokes like nobody’s business. It’s easy to forget that he murders for a living. But then when I remember, it freaks me out.

  I don’t know him from Adam, and I don’t trust him either. I’m still iffy about trusting Alistair too, but at least I can count on him based on our past experiences.

  Damien’s been trying his best to get me to loosen up around him. It’s kind of sweet, but I just can’t get past the moral barrier soaring between us.

  He murders. That’s wrong. I don’t agree with it.

  I don’t see how we can be friends.

  “Yeah,” I shift uncomfortably. “You’re probably right.”

  Damien sighs and stretches his long legs. Okay, if you must know Damien’s kind of cute. I mean, if you’re into the hot, Asian assassin types. I’ve got enough relationship problems with Alistair to last me a lifetime, so I’d never entertain thoughts of Damien.

  But I’ve got eyes… and my eyes don’t mind looking at him.

  “Why do you always wake up so early?” Damien taps his long, slim fingers against the tabletop.

  I glance out the window at the busy highway as I speak.

  “It’s a habit. I had to get to the hotel by five-thirty in the morning so I could start baking.”

  “Wow,” Damien yawns. “That sucks.”

  “Mm-hm.”

  Awkward silence fills the cab. I focus on the window, pretending that I’m deep in thought. The scenery rolling by is quite beautiful in the pink strains of the sunlight. Dust and Ashes is rolling into Wales, which is a country near Great Britain.

  The coast is gorgeous. Frothy white waves curl against brown rocks. The hills are covered with green, bringing to mind majestic kings in emerald robes. I’m not too keen on the circumstances that brought me here, but I’m kind of glad that I have this opportunity.

  I’ve always wanted to travel the world, but believed that I couldn’t until I either married a rich man or waited for retirement. Being marked by a crazed assassin was the third option. I guess beggars can’t be choosers when it comes to opportunities like this.

  Wales is the first stop on the Dust and Ashes tour. I’m excited to see the sights and to participate in the concert.

  That’s right. I’m an honorary member of the band. When the group plays Laugh, Belize, I get to play the tambourine. Am I a star or what?

  Damien clears his throat, bringing me back to the present. His voice is a filled with exasperation.

  “Kendall, Alistair asked me to take care of you. I can’t do that if you won’t talk to me.”

  I frown. That’s another strike against Damien. Alistair insisted that the only person he trusted enough to ‘protect’ me was his assassin buddy. I get that, but if some mercenary wants me dead, I’m not sure what Damien can do about it.

  I saw the way Maveth threw those knives at us when we were in the parking lot of Paparrazi’s a few weeks ago. If I’d moved a centimeter in the wrong direction, I would have been sliced like a salmon.

  Damien is asking way too much of me this early in our acquaintance. I have to find some way to get over his occupation and then maybe I can let him in. I just don’t see that happening anytime soon.

  A snarky remark aches to burst from my lips, but I don’t want to get on this man’s bad side. I’ve never seen any assassin-like tendencies from Damien (whatever those are). But obviously someone so wishy-washy about human life won’t think twice about taking mine.

  Instead of the comment that pops into my head, I choose to remove myself from the conversation.

  “I have to start baking. Do you mind?”

  He sits upright, bringing his long legs away from the only path through the table. I pass him awkwardly and then head for the section of the tour bus that hosts the stove, oven, and regular amenities of a kitchen.<
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  I know that Damien is getting frustrated with me. He’s been rather direct with his feelings. He and Alistair are like brothers. I know he wants us to get along. And if Damien was a regular bodyguard or something, we probably would.

  But he’s not.

  Damien is an assassin. Unlike Alistair, who no longer goes around killing people, Damien unapologetically claims the title. What would we have in common?

  All I want right now is for Alistair to complete his mission and come home safely. When it comes to mercenaries, assassins, and general craziness, Alistair Howard is the only man that I’m willing to bet on.

  Chapter 2

  Alistair

  I pull the cap lower over my head and zip my leather jacket to the neck. The air is chilly in the cab of the train, but I seem to be the only one affected. The tropical air in Belize has spoiled me. I am no longer used to the chilling temperatures of my homeland.

  I snap my newspaper wide and subtly glance around. The other passengers on the train seem enthralled in their own activities. To my left, a woman rocks her baby in her arms. The child was fussy when we began our journey in London, but has since calmed.

  To my right, a man in a suit stirs his cup of coffee and reads from a tablet. He has been engrossed in the device from the minute we began our journey. I haven’t seen his eyes since boarding the train. His behavior seems innocent enough, but I have him flagged.

  The other Londoners riding along to the countryside are in various jackets and coats. Most are sleeping. Some, like the businessman, are occupied with mobile devices. I keep my eye on them all. Assassins can easily blend into any environment. I refuse to be caught off-guard.

  The businessman lifts his arm. I stiffen, my hand darting to the knife in the pocket of my jacket in preparation. Instead of revealing a weapon, the stranger simply covers his mouth as he yawns. My heartbeat manages to return to normal when I realize that he poses no threat.

  I’m upset by my jumpiness. The time away from this life has turned me soft.

  For the past two years, I’ve travelled the world. I trekked through the mountains of Indonesia, lived aboard a cargo ship sailing through the Indian Ocean. I hiked through the jungles of Venezuela and experienced the Northern Lights in Greenland.

  At first, I travelled in fear. I was unable to trust anyone. Every person I came into contact with was a threat. Eventually, I learned to put my suspicious nature to rest.

  It was not easy. Paranoia is an important asset to any assassin. Danger and death are the side-effects of the job, no matter how long a member has been inactive.

  For a time, I entertained the idea of being free from the fear. Free to pursue a normal life. I fooled myself into thinking that I could possibly settle down with a good woman. Someone like Kendall.

  I force the thought from my mind. Kendall and I were over before we had ever really begun. And even if our feelings had had time to mature, I cannot be around her. For her own protection, I must draw Maveth and all the other assassins as far away from Kendall Villanueva as possible.

  As strongly as I try to turn the tide of my thoughts away from her, I cannot. Kendall is my weakness and yet she is my strength. I draw courage when I think of the lengths I will go to protect her. Yet, I become distracted when my mind traces her face.

  Kendall’s beauty cannot be denied. Her wide, intelligent eyes, curly hair, and creamy brown skin are enough to get any man’s attention. When he draws closer, however, he will find a gem so sweet and precious that he cannot help but fall in love.

  What I feel for her cannot be explained by words. The connection between us is so powerful that even from miles away, with no contact at all, I know that she must be thinking of me. Whatever I feel for her, my highest priority is keeping her safe.

  The only way to do that is to find Maveth before he finds Kendall. I did not take his note lightly. Maveth has found my vulnerabilities. He, and any other assassin that he is in league with, can use that information as leverage.

  It is why I employed Damien to protect Kendall. Damien is more than capable of keeping her safe. I trust him completely as he has proven before that he is worthy of that confidence. Now, I trust him with something more valuable than my life.

  Kendall’s.

  The train begins to slow. Its iron wheels screech as it rests in front of the station. I stand and allow the mother and her baby to go before me. The businessman gathers his trash and stuffs his tablet into a case. I keep my hand on the dagger hidden in my jacket, waiting as he slips into the crowd and walks away.

  It seems I worried for nothing.

  I disembark from the train and step into the busy terminal. The scent of fish and chips spins through the cold air. Children scamper about in coats and scarves. A musician strums his guitar, allowing the calming sound to weave around the cacophony of voices.

  It has been a while since I’ve stood in this land. Though I’ve travelled to far and exotic places, I’ve always steered clear of returning to Britain. I have no life here. No ties. My parents are gone. My grandmother is buried in the cemetery.

  All that belongs to me can be found in a graveyard. The realization is depressing, but I must investigate Maveth’s claims. In exchange for the nightlock, Maveth offered me answers to three questions.

  During the interrogation, he claimed that my father sent him on this mission. It was hard news to swallow. Given that Maveth later faked his own death, it is even harder to believe.

  Still, his confession was so outrageous I fear there must be some merit to it. Of all the things he could have said, insisting that my father pulled the strings on his mission to kill me is too far-fetched to take lightly.

  I catch a cab and direct the driver through the gloomy countryside to the place of my birth. The poor man seems confused when he stops before a weathered structure.

  “You sure this is the place?” he asks in a thick accent.

  “Yes,” I nod my head and pay the fare.

  He shrugs his shoulders and reverses, leaving me alone in the quiet countryside. I take a deep breath, allowing my memories to reconstruct the house that once stood here.

  It was a manor, not too large. The door was green. The windows barred by white shutters. The attic was my favorite place to explore. I would throw the small oval window open and look out into the forest across the way.

  I blink and the image clears. I see the gloomy, grey sky in the background. Charred wood sticks haphazardly into the air. Grass pops up from the ill-maintained lawn. The doorway still stands, but the door has been wrenched by the wind and by time.

  Fear grips my chest as I step forward. I’ve managed to cut down opponents that were bigger than I, stronger, faster. Facing the past is far more intimidating. What will I do if I find evidence of my father’s life?

  What will I do if he is indeed the puppet master who has marked me for death?

  I lift my head and straighten my shoulders. The demons of my past cannot live. If I shy away from this mission now, Kendall will die. With renewed confidence, I stride into the charred manor.

  Chapter 3

  Kendall

  “Treeeey!” A voice booms as the tour bus rolls along later that morning.

  I smile since I already know what’s going on. A few seconds later, Jace Kelly storms into the ‘living room’ section of the bus, wearing a towel wrapped around his pale head. Jace is the lead singer and songwriter of Dust and Ashes. He’s tall and handsome with the most intense blue eyes I’ve ever seen.

  Sadly, Jace is happily married to his wife of nearly six years. I used to have a huge thing for him until I heard the news. Nothing puts a damper on a celebrity crush like finding out the guy is married. Now, I’m happy to say that Jace and I are friends.

  “Love the turban,” Will Young grunts from the sofa beside me.

  Will isn’t much of a talker and, adding in his huge size, he’s kind of intimidating. Nevertheless, he’s a sweet guy. He and his wife Morgan, the bass player of the band, were the first pe
ople to make me feel at home in the small space of the bus. I’m a lot like Morgan and so we clicked instantly.

  Morgan starts snickering and so do I.

  Trey, who is lounging around the bar and devouring my Johnny cakes smiles innocently as he teases his friend.

  “Jace, man, what’s with all the noise?”

  Jace’s eyes burn into his best friend’s skull. The lead singer whips the towel from his head. Immediately, we all gasp. Jace’s gorgeous blonde hair has been dyed a very neon shade of green. All he needs is a nose stud and some black eyeliner and the guy could pass for a heavy metal artist.

  Morgan and I burst into loud peals of laughter.

  “Do you think this is funny?” Jace’s eyes cut to Morgan, Will, and I.

  His lips turn up in a small smile, despite his efforts to keep his grin at bay.

  “Hey, guys, I heard a …whoa.” Damien stares at Jace’s head, his narrow eyes going as wide as saucers. “Dude, your hair is green.”

  “Thanks to Trey!” Jace glares at his best friend.

  With his mouth full of food, Trey blinks his eyes and shrugs his shoulders.

  “You know we have a set tonight,” Jace whines, “how the heck am I going to get this out?”

  Morgan warned me that the guys liked to play pranks on each other. I was fully prepared for this. I just didn’t expect things to get so intense so quickly. Hopefully, I’m never caught in the crossfire of these prank wars.

  I like my hair just the way it is, thank you very much.

  “Don’t be such a cry baby,” Trey stands.

  Charlie’s boyfriend has dark brown hair and an easy, charming smile. The guy is a babe magnet. I don’t know how my cousin survives when he’s on the road. There are like a hundred fan pages dedicated to Trey Johnson.

  Damien covers his mouth to muffle his laughter.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Jace waves his arm, “laugh it up. You better hope this thing can come out, Trey, or I’ll sic Izzy on you.”

  Izzy is Jace’s wife.