Asher Sullivan wasn’t sitting in the church in his hometown of Stoney Creek to celebrate anything. Fifth pew back from where the love of his life, Remy Brennan, wore a strapless gown, fitting her sweet five-foot-five frame to pure perfection. She was petite, with long, blond wavy hair, big, round light green eyes set in an oval face, and she took his breath away every time he saw her. She’d been with him since she was sixteen years old, and even back then, she’d been beautiful. Only now she was breathtaking and no longer his.
The bastard standing next to her, about to become her husband, Damon Lane, Asher could do without. Especially considering Remy had no idea she was about to marry a con man. Or that this impending marriage was a sham to get Remy’s half-million-dollar inheritance that her beloved grandmother left her when she passed away. Remy’s sweet nana, who raised her from six years old, had stipulated in her last will and testament that Remy would gain her inheritance once she married.
Patience had never lived in Asher’s character, and he thrust a hand through his blond hair, ready to crawl out of his skin. There was no doubt the sweat trailing his spine showed through his white button-up that he wore to a wedding he didn’t even want to attend. The plastic handcuffs poked his thigh through the pocket of his dark gray slacks, all but teasing him with anticipation to wrap them around Damon’s lowlife wrists
All Asher needed was word from a fellow cop back at the station that the arrest warrant had arrived.
“We are gathered to rejoice, with and for them, in the new life they now undertake together,” the minister called out in a sm
ooth, nearly rhythmic voice
Asher snorted. “What a load of shit.”
Heads turned and a few glares came Asher’s way, telling him he wasn’t as quiet as he’d hoped. Remy was meant to marry him, until Asher received a shiny job offer from the FBI. That promising new career had arrived two weeks after his mother died from a massive stroke, and his fears had lured Asher away from Remy. Five years later, he’d never felt more lost than ever. That’s why he’d come back to Stoney Creek. He needed his hometown roots. His friends. The life he knew, only for four years Remy wouldn’t even acknowledge his existence, and this past year Asher had watched Remy fall in love with someone else. That’s when he realized she was his greatest regret, and he began rethinking his hang-ups about marriage.
“Calm down. You’re drawing attention.”
The clipped voice next to him didn’t come as any relief.
On either side of Asher were his fellow detectives and childhood friends. To his left was Boone Knight, a powerhouse of a guy with neat dark hair who was quick to smile. On Asher’s right was Rhett West. His features had always been hard, and Rhett carried heaviness and darkness with him, but the man was lethal, both in the military and out of it. “Where is the goddamn arrest warrant?” Asher bit off.
“Remy will never forgive you if you act before having it,” Rhett shot back quietly. “You cannot be wrong. Relax.”
Asher restrained the curses sitting on his lips and glanced back at his phone, his leg bouncing a mile a minute. Rhett wasn’t wrong. Asher had broken Remy’s heart once. He couldn’t act rashly. While his instincts had gotten him through the police academy, then hired at the FBI, and now back in Stoney Creek working alongside his buddies as a detective, those same instincts were what had him investigating Damon Lane. It only took days to realize something was wrong, but it took weeks to gather enough evidence against Lane to go to the prosecutor.
And Asher knew Remy needed that proof too.
One call. That’s what they waited for. The month-long investigation had finally delivered Damon Lane’s real name, Kyle Fanning. And Remy wasn’t his first victim either; she was his fourth. Three marriages, and Fanning went by all different names.
The minister continued, “The relationship you enter into today must be grounded in the strength of your love and the power of your faith in each other.”
Asher held his tongue this time. For the briefest of glances, Remy turned her head, her gaze connecting with his. And held. Asher was pretty sure she still loved him. But maybe Damon was a good second best, and Asher understood why she wanted to get married. For as long as he knew Remy, she had dreamed of her wedding. She once told him every single detail, including that the ceremony would be outside under the stars, and then she described every element of her dress. Now, he noted, the ceremony was in a church and her dress was not the one she dreamed of. Plus, she wanted to open up a New Age shop she’d call the Black Cat’s Cauldron, and her inheritance would help make that happen. Remy believed in magic. She believed teas could bring positive energy. That herbs could heal. That burning incense could chase away evil.
Asher’s fingers gripped his phone tightly as he glanced down at the screen, waiting for the damn text message to stop this wedding. Asher hunted criminals—that was his job as a police detective. Most crimes he solved in the small coastal town in Maine dealt with theft, domestic violence, and only recently the first murder to happen in town in years. But right now this crime was personal.
He came there to support Remy, but he knew he’d be stopping this wedding today. When the time came, he’d object with or without the evidence. But he really hoped for his life and well-being, he had the arrest warrant and the photograph of Kyle Fanning’s last wedding.
A flash on his phone caught his attention.
Get him.
Asher jumped to his feet. “Stop. I object,” he yelled, anger burning in his gut.
Remy turned to him, eyes huge, but for one split second, Asher swore he caught a hint of a smile. He tore his focus off her and put it onto the prick next to her, holding her hand and a ring. Yeah, that scumbag was pretty too, probably the high school quarterback, the guy all the girls wanted, with his dazzling brown eyes, charming smile, and perfectly styled brown hair. Asher saw Damon for what he was, a slimy bastard who didn’t just break hearts but left a trail of shattered women behind him.
The crowd in the pews were a blur around him as Asher charged forward, hot adrenaline pumping through his veins. Damon took a step back, but Asher was there a second later, grabbing him by the arms and taking him down swiftly to the floor.
“Asher!” Remy gasped, both horror and shock in her voice. “What are you doing?”
“Saving you from this fucker,” Asher growled, keeping his knee pressed against the bastard’s back while he reached for his cuffs. “You want to tell her the truth? Or am I going to do it?”
“He’s crazy,” Damon yelled when Asher got the first cuff around one wrist. “Get him off me.”
Asher felt the weight of everyone’s gaze, and after he got on the second cuff, he glanced back, finding Boone standing behind him frowning and Rhett wore a shit-eating grin. With the moment to breathe, Asher cursed softly. Perhaps he hadn’t handled this well, but he wouldn’t apologize for shit. He blew out a slow breath, then rose, bringing Damon to his feet.
Rhett grasped Damon’s arm, pulling him back away from Remy. “And here I thought I was the one who always fucked up,” he said to Asher. “Good luck dancing your way out of this.”
Next to him, Boone cringed, staring over Asher’s shoulder.