Mistaken Hero (Retribution Games Book 1) Read online

  Mistaken Hero

  Retribution Games Book 1

  Ella Miles

  Copyright © 2021 by Ella Miles

  EllaMiles.com

  [email protected]

  Cover design © CBC Designs / Designs by Daqri

  All rights reserved.

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

  Contents

  Retribution Games Series

  Prologue

  1. Beckett

  2. Ri

  3. Beckett

  4. Ri

  5. Beckett

  6. Ri

  7. Beckett

  8. Beckett

  9. Ri

  10. Ri

  11. Beckett

  12. Ri

  13. Ri

  14. Beckett

  15. Ri

  16. Beckett

  17. Ri

  18. Ri

  19. Ri

  20. Beckett

  21. Ri

  22. Ri

  Also by Ella Miles

  About the Author

  Retribution Games Series

  Mistaken Hero

  Forbidden Princess

  Tempted Hero

  Fatal Princess

  Tortured Hero

  Dangerous Princess

  Prologue

  Beckett

  I did something terrible, the worst. I can’t say it, can’t even think it. But it’s there in my soul and I’ll carry it with me forever.

  I stare at the dot on my phone’s map as I contemplate my next move. I’ve been watching her location, thinking of all the twisted, fucked up things I want to do to her. I want to murder her, but I also want to fu—no, I won’t even think that.

  The dot starts moving on my phone. At first, I think she’s just moving around at the cabin, but then it starts moving faster and quickly ventures beyond the property.

  She’s running.

  No, she wouldn’t run. She cares too much.

  That only leaves one possibility—she’s been kidnapped.

  I run to my car with my phone in hand as my anxiety racks through me. There’s more at stake than just her, but for a second, all I think of is her safety. My pulse flies thinking about her getting hurt.

  I step on the gas as I chase her, but I’m a good hour behind. I call Caius. He answers on the second ring.

  “Someone took Ri!” I yell into the phone.

  “What? She’s—fuck! We’re on it.”

  I hang up the phone, knowing they can track her as well. They are closer, but as I’m already in my car and Caius has to wake the rest of the guys, I’m not sure who will get to her first.

  I watch the dot speed toward the city, and I follow, driving like a fucking maniac. I’m sweating, my hand trembling at the wheel. I can’t even play music I’m so focused on getting to her.

  “I’m going to make it. I’m going to make it. I’m going to make it,” I repeat over and over.

  When that doesn’t work, I repeat, “She’s strong. She’s strong. She’s strong.”

  The dot suddenly stops.

  I look up the address while I speed down the interstate. They took her to a club. And not just any club—the Phantom Brotherhood’s club.

  They took her.

  They rescinded our deal—those fuckers.

  I step harder on the gas, going as fast as my car will take me. My mind is racing too, and I end up having to take large gulps of air every few seconds because I forget to breathe.

  What seems like hours but is actually only a few minutes later, I make it to the club. I don’t know what I’m about to walk into, but I’ll do whatever it takes to get her back.

  I walk through the club as stealthily as possible, so I can scope the place first before drawing attention. Although that isn’t easy to do when you only have one arm, people tend to stare.

  I should call the crew and see if they’ve made it, but when I pull my phone out, I have no reception. I’m not going to waste time going outside to call them, and I’m riled up enough to take down anyone by myself.

  I make my way through the main areas and don’t find her or any of the Phantom Brotherhood. They must be in a back room.

  I head down the hallway when I hear a scream.

  It’s her.

  I can hear it over the booming music—her howl pierces my heart, deflating it like a balloon.

  I’m too late. She’s been hurt.

  I run toward her voice and am led to a locked door. I kick the door down, too impatient to pick the lock. Their security is shit.

  The sight in front of me rips my heart from my chest.

  She’s on a pool table naked with four men surrounding her. They are all shirtless, wearing horned masks that make them look like devils or monsters. Most have their dicks out; some have their dicks inside her. Inside what’s mine.

  Except she’s not mine. She never will be.

  But she’s mine to protect.

  I see red.

  A switch flicks in my brain. I don’t think; I just move automatically. The guy that’s between her legs—I throw him by the neck and punch him hard in the jaw repeatedly until he’s rolling on the floor.

  I grab the next one and kick him in the balls. Then a swift kick to the head drops him to his knees.

  The third puts up more of a fight, having seen what I’ve done to his buddies. He gets a punch into my gut, but it barely slows me down before I knock him out.

  And then there’s just one. He gets all my remaining rage in the form of punches and kicks. If my outrage was patient, I’d pull a gun out, but luckily for him, I’d rather murder him with my fists.

  He doubles over, and her screams are the only thing that keeps me from actually killing him.

  She’s scared to death, lying naked on the table with a blindfold over her eyes. I can’t imagine what is going through her head. The monsters didn’t even let her see. They took full advantage of her.

  As much as I want to stay around and murder these fuckers, I need to get her out of here.

  She removes the mask, and we come face to face. I’m still pissed at her. And it’s clear from the way her eyes dilate at my sight that she’s pissed at me. But we can be pissed later. I need to get her out of here.

  I scoop her up in my arm—not an easy task, but I make it work. I’m not going to throw her over my shoulder when she’s in this state. I wish I could cover her better as I head out into the hall, but I’m more worried about those rapists waking up and trying to take her.

  Unexpectedly she starts fighting me, beating against my chest and flailing around trying to get out of my arm. I don’t know if she thinks I was one of the guys hurting her or if she’s mentally still back in that room fighting them off.

  I duck into the closest room that will provide some safety until she calms down. I run into a private bathroom, kick the door shut, and turn the lock—only then can I breathe a bit.

  “It’s okay, Princess. You’re safe. I’ve got you. I won’t let them hurt you. You’re just in shock.” I grip her tighter, but she pushes free.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Saving you,” I say.

  “Of course you are, Hero. Of course you are.” She runs her hands through her hair with a frustrated grin. “I don’t know why you decided to save me this time, but you got one little thing wrong.”

  I frown, my brows pinching together. “What’s that?”

  “For once, I didn’t need a hero.”

  “What did you need?”
r />   “I needed you to let me save my damn self.”

  I cock my head in complete confusion. Somehow I fucked everything up again, but I don’t regret it. From where I was standing, she needed a damn hero. I may hate the nickname she gave me as much as she hates me calling her Princess, but I’m not about to stop saving her now, even if it is a mistake.

  1

  Beckett

  “I do,” Odette says, brightly smiling at me with tears in her eyes.

  Those two words take my breath away and have me on the verge of tears. I already succumbed to tears earlier when I watched her walk down the aisle toward me in her sheath white lace dress on her father’s arm. I’m the luckiest man in the universe—marrying the woman of my dreams on this perfect spring day in this outdoor Eden.

  I’ve been waiting for this day for the last three months, ever since Odette said yes when I proposed on the rooftop of our favorite building looking out over the Chicago skyline. Three months was as long as I was willing to wait when I’ve been waiting my entire life for this moment.

  I’ve watched everyone I love get married and have kids. It’s finally my turn.

  Now there is nothing left standing between us and our happily ever after except the officiant declaring us husband and wife.

  I grip Odette’s hand tighter like if I loosen my grip, she’ll realize her mistake and not marry me after all. Or my real fear—someone will take her from me. A monster will kidnap her, torture her, kill her. When you grew up as I did, it’s a very real fear.

  She shakes her head knowingly, thinking I’m ridiculous for ever thinking she doesn’t want to marry me. I don’t know how she could love me—she’s an angel and I’m a sinner. She’s pure and I’m pure darkness. But somehow, she found a way to love me despite my faults.

  “I now declare—” the officiant starts to speak, but suddenly a woman shoulders past him and smacks right into our linked hands, pushing us apart.

  “What the hell?” I say, furious at the intruder. We were assured by our wedding planner that the courtyard would be private and secure during the ceremony.

  The woman doesn’t apologize as she bursts down the aisle, knocking one of the bouquets off the end of a chair. She keeps running frantically as if she’s being chased by a dangerous animal, and if she stops for even a second, the animal will catch her and devour her.

  I look behind the officiant trying to figure out where she came from and if we can expect more trespassers. But all the doors to the building are closed. Despite how the woman is acting, no one is chasing after her.

  I drag my eyes back to the aisle the woman is continuing down. Her raven-colored hair encompasses most of her petite body, but it doesn’t hide the small tear on the back of her white buttoned-down blouse, nor the one on the side of her black leggings.

  Something happened to her, something cruel. I thought I had left my past behind me. I thought I was free, but it can’t be a coincidence that this woman crashed my wedding, can it? Not with my history.

  It doesn’t take a detective to see this woman must work as a waitress. It explains the outfit and the apron tied around her waist, but not why she’s running.

  At the last second, she turns around. Her eyes meet mine instantly, ignoring the other hundred people gathered in the courtyard for my wedding.

  I expect to see extreme fear in her eyes—terror, maybe. Or at least some anger or rage at what happened to her.

  Instead, I see a determination in her large, cat-like eyes that seem to glow with a fierceness I’ve never seen. She’s young, maybe early twenties, but she doesn’t carry her youth in her eyes. For a split second, she lets me through her eyes to glimpse what lies beneath—she’s an old soul. A tortured one. A dangerous one.

  A second later, she turns the corner around the side of the event center and disappears.

  I blink rapidly, trying to figure out if I just imagined the interruption entirely when the murmurs of our guests die down almost immediately. Odette once again takes my hand, gripping it with both of hers.

  “Well, that will make for a fun memory to tell the kids someday,” she jokes.

  My eyes race over hers, looking for any sign of distress or annoyance at what just happened, but I find none. Just one of the many reasons why I love her. She doesn’t take life too seriously. She’s kind and warm and innocent. When she looked at the intruder, she just saw a girl who was a little rude, so she resisted turning into a bridezilla. When I saw the girl, I saw pain, evil, and danger.

  I wanted today to be perfect for Odette. She deserves the very best—the wedding day of her dreams.

  She notices my concern and strokes my cheek. “Something always goes wrong at weddings. I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day, even with the small interruption. I love you. All I want is to be married to you.”

  “Shall I continue?” the officiant asks, clearly baffled.

  I nod, forcing a smile on my face. There was something odd about that girl, something I’m going to have to explore later, but not now. Now, I need to focus on my wife, on our future. Tomorrow I’ll worry about that girl’s identity.

  “Um…where was I?” the officiant fumbles his note cards.

  Odette looks at me with such love in her eyes that it forces me to forget all about the interruption. “You were at the best part, declaring us husband and wife,” she says.

  I don’t wait for him to say it. I dip Odette in my arm and kiss her.

  I hear the officiant mumble something about us being husband and wife and kissing the bride, but I don’t really hear it. All I hear, feel, and see is her—my wife.

  My wife.

  My wife.

  The kiss warms my entire body, and my mind immediately fills with dirty thoughts of how I’m going to fuck my wife tonight. Odette’s face flushes when I break the kiss off, but only after exploring every inch of her mouth with my tongue and making her moan twice.

  Our friends and family are hooping and hollering, and I know I let the kiss go on far too long for what’s appropriate based on Odette’s deep blush. Or maybe she’s blushing because she knows what I have planned for her tonight once we get to the penthouse suite I booked.

  “No,” Odette says as I link our fingers and we start walking down the aisle.

  “No, what?” I feign ignorance.

  “No, we aren’t ditching our wedding reception to go straight to the hotel. My father spent too much money on our wedding to do that.”

  “I’ll write him a check,” I wiggle my eyebrows which I know will make her laugh.

  She chuckles. “No.”

  I lean in and kiss her again. I would never deny her the opportunity to celebrate our union with our friends and family, no matter how badly I need her now. My cock is going to be aching all fucking night.

  She grabs my tie and yanks my ear to her lips. “But I might be able to be persuaded to a quickie in the bathroom.”

  I groan and bite the back of my knuckles. “You’re trying to kill me.”

  She knows I won’t let our first time as husband and wife be in a dirty bathroom. I want to give her the best of everything, including a magical wedding night with flowers, chocolate-covered strawberries, champagne, the works. A night where I declare my love to her over and over again while I whisper poetic words in her ear. A filthy bathroom won’t do.

  She knows it, and yet she says it to torture me as if I wouldn’t already be thinking about it all night. How could I not when she wears a dress that exposes her entire back and hugs her ass like a vice grip.

  A few minutes later, we walk into the ballroom reception. I admit I didn’t participate in much of the planning. I don’t know what the flowers are called other than ‘white.’ I don’t know about the centerpieces other than they have pops of gold. I don’t know about the food, the cake, any of it other than I offered to help pay and plan, but neither she nor her father would hear any of that.

  “Ready for our first dance, wifey?” I ask.

  “I’m ready for yo
u to hold me against your chest as you whisper dirty words in my ear to make me squirm.”

  “You know me so well.”

  Our song starts playing, and I take her hand and spin her so her back is tight against my body.

  “Beckett? Did you—?”

  “Learn how to dance? You wouldn’t let me plan anything else. I thought I could at least learn how to dance in time for the wedding,” I whisper in her ear.

  Her eyes twinkle with happiness. I know I didn’t have to, but seeing how happy she is, I’d learn every waltz, tango, and cha-cha. Hell, I’d learn to do ballet if I thought it would bring a smile to her face.

  “Hold on tight, wifey,” I say as I twirl us around the dance floor. I have to make a few adjustments to account for only having a left arm, but after the accident, I’ve learned how to do almost everything with one fully functioning arm and one residual limb. Odette was the first woman I dated who didn’t look at me like I wasn’t human, like I was broken. She only saw me—the man. A man she could fall in love with, not a man who needed fixing.

  I squeeze her tight to my body and lift her off the ground. She squeals with happiness which almost bursts my heart open before I set her feet back down on the ground and continue the dance I learned. Even though Odette didn’t learn the dance, she keeps up flawlessly. She used to dance as a child, and she knows how to read my mind, so it doesn’t surprise me at all.

  With every spin, my mind flashes with happy memories of us.

  Our adorable meet-cute.

  I step forward in line while staring at my phone. A huge mistake, I realize as burning hot coffee spills all over my hand and phone. I’m already in a foul mood, and this just made it a hundred times worse. I open my mouth to accuse the person who just spilled coffee all over me of not paying attention. An asshole move, I know.