Unforeseen (Undescribable series Book 6) Read online

  UNFORESEEN

  adjective

  adjective: unforeseen

  not anticipated or predicted.

  UNFORESEEN

  Copyright © 2015 by Shantel Tessier

  All rights reserved.

  Editing by Jenny Sims of Editing4Indies

  Cover design by Sommer Stein at Perfect Pear Creative

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental

  Newsletter sign-ups- be the first to know of current projects and releases. http://goo.gl/4wd9CV

  For more information about the author and her books, visit:

  Amazon

  Website

  Facebook

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  EPILOGUE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  PROLOGUE

  Missy

  Do you remember the first time that you fell in love? I do! I remember exactly what he was wearing. I remember the way he smelled. I remember the look in his eyes when he first saw me. It wasn’t love. For him, it was lust. I guess what I could have felt was lust more than love. What did I know? I was only eighteen. He was much older than me. Six years, to be exact. I was eighteen and he was twenty four. I didn’t know that at the time, though. I just remember looking at him and thinking my entire world was turning upside down. What would I give for him to hold me? To love me? I’d give my life. I know I sound like your typical eighteen-year-old, but I couldn’t help the way my body vibrated as he spoke. I couldn’t help the way my breathing hitched when his dark blue eyes looked me up and down as if he wanted to devour me. He was what I’d always dreamed of. Dark. Mysterious. Beautiful. I wanted to call him mine. Too bad he didn’t feel the same. Not yet, anyway.

  The sun is shining through my windshield as I pull into my father’s repair shop parking lot. He had called me earlier while I was out shopping and asked if I would mind bringing him and my brother, along with a new guy he hired, some lunch. It wasn’t an unusual call. I do it every weekend for them. After I finish parking, I get out of my car and pull my jean shorts down to cover my butt. My family is very religious, and if my dad knew how short these really were, he would rip them up before throwing them in the trash.

  I walk into my father’s repair shop carrying a few Subway sacks. I walk up to his front desk and place the Subway bags on the counter. My father looks up at me and smiles. “Thanks for bringing us lunch, baby girl.” His Southern accent makes me smile. We may live in St. Louis, but he sounds like we live in Texas.

  “Anytime,” I say with a smile of my own. I push my black-rimmed glasses up on my nose. He reaches up and takes his sandwich. “Please take your brother and Tate their sandwiches. They’re in the back.” With that he reaches over and picks up his phone, making a call.

  I grab the other two sandwiches and walk through the back door that leads into the garage. My father and mother started this garage back when I was little. My father has always been into cars. Like any other man, his dream was to own his own shop. He does anything from fixing a flat tire and changing oil, to totally remodeling a classic. If he wasn’t at home, my mother knew to find him here.

  The smile drops off my face and I pause when I see a man standing in the middle of the garage staring at me. He’s not like any other man I’ve seen before. He’s tall, dark, and brooding. It’s as if the heat that radiates off his body warms my very own. I want to stare into his beautiful blue eyes, but the intense look he gives me has me lowering mine. My eyes land on his knuckles. They’re covered in scars. I guess from fights. I don’t know if those fights are from him being a kid or an adult. My eyes travel up his exposed forearms, and I can’t help the surprised look I have on my face as I look over his tattoos not concealed by his wife beater. That’s a funny name, isn’t it? Wife beater. Why would they name a shirt that looks so good on a man something so foul? His black tribal tattoos have me mesmerized. The way they run up his arms. They move as he fists his hands down by his sides, causing his muscles to show more. My body instantly heats up hotter.

  “Missy,” Jacob, my brother, says, making me jump like an idiot. I take a deep breath and look over at him. “This is Tate.” He gestures to the man standing in front of me with a smile on his face.

  “Tate,” he turns to him, “this is my little sister, Missy.” He then walks past Tate and grabs one of the Subway bags out of my hands, leaving us alone. I swallow nervously.

  We stand there for a few more seconds before I find the strength to take a step toward him and hold up the last bag to him.

  He frowns. “For me?” His deep voice makes me break out in goosebumps. And I briefly try to imagine what my name would sound like if he whispered it in my ear.

  I slowly nod. “I brought you guys lunch,” I say softly and clear my throat. “I always bring my dad and brother lunch on the weekends,” I explain stupidly. I look down at the floor shyly. I’ve always been a shy kid. Hopefully, he can see that and not think that I’m being shy at the moment due to him. Even if he is intimidating.

  The silence that follows has me breathing heavy. Not being able to stand it, I look back up at him. His dark blue eyes run up my legs and I cross my arms around myself to keep him from seeing how turned on I am by his heated gaze.

  “Thank you.” His words are spoken as rough as he looks. He meant the words to be thoughtful, but he sounded aggravated about having to say them.

  “You’re welcome,” I whisper, rubbing my arms and trying to hide my goosebumps. I dare to look up at his blue eyes and they look hooded as if he placed a shade over them making them even a darker blue.

  With one last look, he nods his head to me and turns around, walking away from me.

  I knew from that moment that he was different. He had secrets. Dark secrets that I wanted to know but didn’t know why. He was beautiful yet looked broken at the same time.

  I didn’t know that he would one day love me back. I didn’t know that three years later, he would take my virginity in a drunken one-night stand. A one-night stand that would result in a miscarriage six weeks later. And I never expected him to fall in love with me. But he did. And that love that he felt for me—well, it cost him his life.

  CHAPTER ONE

  FOUR YEARS LATER

  MISSY

  I stand outside of my best friend’s bakery as I pull on Parker’s shirt, frantically. My fear for Tate’s life is growing by the second. “Come on,” I cry out. “We need to get in there.” Parker just so happens to be a police officer and Tate’s roommate and at the moment he’s the closest person I have to saving Tate’s life.

  He barks off some orders to about ten other police officers that gather in the street. They’re all here to save Tate. His stepdad, who Tate thought was his real father for most of his life, is here to harm him. Kill him. The man held me hostage for the last two hours, but he didn’t hurt me. Not bad anyway. He just used me as leverage to get Tate to come out of hiding. And of course it worked.

  “Parker…?” I shout.

  He spins around and looks down at me. “Stay outside. Do you understand?”
/>
  I shake my head as I breathe heavily. “I have to see him. I have to know he’s…”

  “Absolutely not, Missy. I will protect him. I can’t protect you both at the same time.”

  “Parker…” I try to argue as tears fill my eyes. I love Tate. This is all my fault. I’m the reason his stepdad is here to hurt him. I need to be the one to fix this.

  He lets go of me and turns his back on me. He yells out into the street that is littered with police cars and men dressed in uniforms. I quickly look around, trying to gauge what is happening. And what I would do to go back to a few days ago. Back to the day when we weren’t fighting. To the day before he told me that I wasn’t worth fighting for. I did this! I brought him this trouble.

  I turn back around just in time to see Parker walk into the bakery with his gun raised and men following behind him. Without thought, I take off in a mad dash after him.

  “Tate?” I call out in a panicked voice as I enter the bakery. My concern grows when I don’t see him standing in the front part of the building. I continue to run to the door that leads to the back where Samantha does all the baking.

  “Stop,” Parker’s voice yells at me as I push past him and swing open the door.

  I sigh in relief the moment I spot Tate standing there looking right at me. But he doesn’t look happy or surprised to see me. For the first time in the four years that I’ve known him, he looks terrified.

  I hear a noise that sounds like a clicking. My eyes instantly look down to the floor and see Jonathan, Tate’s step father sitting on the floor with his back against the cabinets. My body turns to ice when I see he’s holding a gun aimed right at my face.

  My ears ring as gunshots sound in the bakery. I’m knocked to the floor, and I can’t breathe as something is crushing me. I open my eyes, ignoring the pain in my back and head, and look up to see Tate lying on top of me with his eyes closed.

  “Tate?” I call out frantically. A few more bangs sound out and my body jerks with each loud pop.

  I lay crushed under Tate as people scream around us. I can’t make out what they are saying. My ears are still ringing. He’s lifted up off me and I scramble to get to him as he’s placed on the kitchen floor, but arms wrap around me and pull me back. “Let them work,” Slade, Tate’s brother-in-law, yells over all the commotion into my ear.

  “Tate?” I cry out as I watch him lay on the tile floor. Jonathan, the man that he thought was his father for years, sits slumped over behind him. Blood runs down his chest, soaking his shirt. Dead.

  Parker gets my attention as he rips Tate’s shirt off before applying pressure to his chest. I place my hand over my mouth to silence my cries as blood pools underneath him. My shirt clings to me, also soaked in his blood.

  Other officers have now joined us and are speaking into their radios to call for an ambulance. One hovers over Tate as he gives him CPR. “Please,” I cry out. “Please save him, Parker,” I plead as I gasp for air.

  Parker speaks to the officer so fast that I can’t make out what he’s saying as the shirt he holds over the wound continues to soak up Tate’s blood.

  “Why?” I cry out. Why would he do that? “Tate?” I scream wanting him to hear me. He has to wake up. “I love him. Please.” My body shakes in Slade’s arms.

  It feels like an eternity as Slade holds me tightly, unwilling to let me go to him. “Tate,” I yell out to him. He has to be okay. He has to live.

  The officer giving CPR checks for his pulse and then looks up at Parker.

  Parker looks from him to me, and I see the tears that fill his eyes and I know it. “I’m sorry, Missy,” he says, and his voice breaks. My heart shatters as I watch the other officer move away from him.

  He’s gone! “No.” I shake my head, not believing it. “He wouldn’t leave me,” I cry, trying to shove Slade off me. He wouldn’t save me only to leave me. Not like this.

  Parker looks up at Slade and nods his head. He releases me and I drop to my knees and crawl to Tate as his body lays there motionless. “Please. Tate,” I beg, placing my hands on his bloody chest. My jeans start to soak up the blood that pools beneath me. “Please don’t leave me.” I look up and see everyone staring down at me. The only sound that now fills the room is my cries. “Why aren’t you doing anything?” I yell as hot tears run down my face and neck.

  I lean over and place my lips on his cold ones. “I love you,” I sob and my tears fall down onto his face. “Don’t be a coward,” I yell, getting mad. “Don’t stop fighting!” I demand. “Fight for me,” I plead, pressing on his chest; starting compressions myself. I can do this. I was in school to be a nurse, after all. “Fight for us,” I demand taking in one deep breath after another.

  I purse my lips as I press on his chest as hard as I can, trying not to vomit from the metallic smell of the blood that lingers in the room. There’s so much. It’s everywhere. It covers my clothes and feels like a hundred little knives piercing my skin.

  I sob as my hands slip; it’s hard, the blood that covers him is making his chest slippery and I can’t get a good grip.

  I blink through the tears that blur my vision. “I’m begging you,” I say through gritted teeth. “Please. Don’t leave me here. I need you,” I say as my arms start to weaken.

  I see Parker’s place his bloody hands over mine and he presses down, stopping me. “No,” I shout, frantically trying to push him away.

  “Missy,” he snaps, grabbing my hands.

  “Get away from me,” I shout and shove him out of my way. “Help him.”

  He stands and yanks me up off my knees. I try to fight him, but he drags me over to the other side of the bakery and shoves me against the wall. “Stop. I can save him,” I sob. I was supposed to save him. I was supposed to be his chance at something better, and I’ve failed him.

  “He’s gone, Missy.” He snaps as he shakes me.

  “No.” I choke on the single word. My lips are unable to work and my mind cannot process his acceptance that his best friend—the love of my life—is dead.

  He grabs my face and his face softens. “I’m sorry, babe…”

  My cries interrupt whatever he was going to say and my knees go weak. His arms wrap around me and hold me up as I bury my face into his chest and cry my eyes out. His arms tighten around me as his cries fill the room as if he just realized he lost his best friend as well.

  His one hand that holds my head runs down the back of my back as he whispers to me. “I’m sorry, Missy. I’m so sorry.”

  I wish I could tell him that it’s okay. That I don’t blame him. That it wasn’t his fault. I know all those things are true, but my mouth won’t allow the words to form. My heart wants to blame someone, and Parker is the only one I can think of at the moment. Besides myself, anyway.

  He pulls away from me and reaches over to push the back door open. I try to look over his shoulder at Tate, but he’s too tall for me. He manages to shove me outside and shuts the door behind us.

  “What are you doing?” I ask trying to get around him. I need back inside of there.

  He grabs my arm and stops me. “You don’t need to see that,” he says softly.

  “What?” I ask breathlessly. “I was just on my hands and knees,” I yell fisting my hands down by my side, “trying to save him as you stood by. And you…You did nothing.” Parker is a cop. He’s been in these situations before. I don’t understand why he didn’t do more for his friend.

  “Missy…?”

  “No,” I shout furiously as I shove him in the chest. He doesn’t budge. “I need to see him.”

  “He’s no longer here with us, Missy.”

  “How can you say that?” I cry. His words crush me all over again. The back door swings open and Slade walks out into the back alley to join us. He puts his head down and runs a hand through his dark hair. He leans back against the brick wall and closes his eyes as he takes a few deep breaths.

  Parker and I stand as we both watch him intently. He takes one last deep breath and t
hen opens his eyes. Tears silently run down his face and his hands shake as he reaches into his front pocket. Removing his phone, he dials a number and then waits.

  “Is Angel there?” His once deep voice sounds broken as he asks about his wife. “Tell her to meet me up at the bakery.” His words come more forced than he wanted to, and I can tell that whomever he is talking to on the other end of the line is now concerned. “Just tell her to. Now.” He then hangs up and places the phone back in his front pocket.

  “How am I going…?” He stops speaking as he runs his hand down his face and takes a deep breath. “How am I gonna tell my wife that her brother is dead?” he cries as he looks at his bloody shoes.

  As much as my heart is breaking, I know his is, too. He was standing right next to Tate. He saw it coming just as Tate did. Why didn’t he stop Tate? Why didn’t Slade kill Jonathan? I know he always has a gun on him.

  “Slade…” Parker breaks the silent as he goes to take a step over to Slade.

  “Please. Don’t,” he says as he raises his hand to Parker before he looks up at us. His beautiful blue eyes look so sad and bloodshot. His words run a chill up my spine. “This is gonna kill her. It’s all my fault.”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Parker says, shaking his head.

  The back door swings open once again and there on the other side of the door stands Josh, one of Tate’s friends. It’s not the tears in his eyes or the lack of color in his face that makes my heart stop. It’s the cold, still body covered with blood lying on the floor behind him. He looks so peaceful. His face slack and body relaxed. If not for the blood, he would look like he is sleeping.

  I take a step back not believing it once again. It has to be a dream. Wake up, Missy. But just the movement of my legs reminds me of the blood-soaked jeans I wear. The wind blows and I shake from the coldness that I feel. I’m drenched in his blood. I lift my shaky hands and his blood still covers them.