Page 5 of Targeted By Love

The car dropped me at the estate gates. The place was swarming with flower, bakery, and catering vans, as well as private cars disembarking well-dressed guests.

I would blend in, and the wig and facial hair, plus the dark-rimmed glasses and blue contact lenses, ensured anyone scanning the security footage in the aftermath wouldn’t recognize me. I deliberately walked with a slight limp in front of the outdoor cameras, a red herring I called it, something to confuse detectives when searching for their suspect.

And before wandering into the chapel when in full view of a camera, I put a hand to my mouth, showing off a fake tat. Guests would be asked to recall a man with a heart tattoo and initials, but no one would, confusing the authorities further. I was also wearing a fraternity ring, a phony one from a real organization. Another ruse.

I lingered near the chapel entrance as guests walked in, and during a lull in the crowd, I scampered up the stairs to the balcony, hoping the videographer hadn’t positioned themselves here. I’d called the company, pretending to be the best man, saying I was checking all was in order and having them confirm their filming locations during the wedding service. They weren’t using the balcony, but from experience, I was aware those plans could change.

But I was alone when I tiptoed over the wooden floorboards. I crouched down low, my dark tux blending in with the dark paint on the choir stalls. Removing the gun and silencer, I waited until the wedding party took their places.

With my shifter eyesight, I’d be able to see the two grooms standing beside each other and the best man. I’d learned from an announcement on a wedding site that one of the grooms’ sisters was the groom’s maid. Silly title but none of my business. The site hadn’t listed names other than the grooms, so I couldn’t research the best man.

The woman and the best man strode out from a side door, and I studied the guy, thinking these were his last moments on this earth. I almost wanted to give him the opportunity to say a farewell and maybe ask for forgiveness if he’d wronged someone. He must have because there was a hit out on him.

One groom appeared and the pastor. Moments later, the organist played the same old tune that people chose when walking up the aisle. Gods, choose something different, people.

But the best man turned to face the guy walking toward the wedding party, and fuck, I almost dropped the gun. I knew him, and his damned scent was wafting from the altar up to the balcony. It was almost as though the damned aroma was on a mission to find me.

The best man was Rhodes, a person I’d gone to school with, the one who’d been my high school boyfriend and who I experienced those first pangs of love with. We’d lusted after one another but went our separate ways after school and lost touch. I couldn’t scent him as my mate back then, but now… his scent attacked me, choking the air out of me, and I sank to the floor. Gulping and taking a deep breath, I got to my knees and peered over the balustrade.

Rhodes’s face was creased into a broad smile as Groom Two reached Groom One. My gaze flicked from Rhodes to Groom One. He was slightly familiar too, also someone from my past, I assumed. But I fixed my eyes on Rhodes as his scent made me its prisoner.

Rhodes was my mate, the human I’d loved as a pimply teen, and I had seconds to decide if I killed him or forfeited the hit.

Don’t kill him.My beast threatened to take his fur.

I chose Rhodes!

4

RHODES

It was the day of the wedding. One favor my brother inadvertently did was not telling me until the last minute. At least I hadn’t dreaded it for long. It also gave me time to get my own mindset in check. I was going suck it up, promising myself that the peace was definitely worth biting my tongue.

Sure, my half-brother was still an asshole. That wasn’t ever going to not be the case. And sure, he was still shitty to my mom. But this was his day, and my mom was thrilled about it. Keeping my mouth closed, a smile slapped on my face, and my dancing feet moving would be worth it.

Unlike most people, I already had a tux thanks to work. I was allowed to wear traditional black and white, which was perfect. I owned that and didn’t have to worry about fittings or any of that nonsense on such short notice. And as nice as a rental tux could be, mine was cut for my frame and was better than anything off the rack.

I got dressed at the apartment I was borrowing, not wanting to spend too much extra time at the venue. At least I looked good. I twirled around in front of the mirror, to make sure—and to killtime. Looking good was subjective, but I cleaned up nicely, and the tux was stunning.

Shooting my brother a quick text to make sure he didn’t need me to pick up anything last minute, I got in my car and drove to the venue. He never replied, but I didn’t expect him to.

I spent the entire ride giving myself a pep talk. “This is exactly what my family needs. It’s going to be great and fun, and there will be free booze and yummy food.”

Ten minutes in, I gave up and flicked on the radio. A commercial for a dating app played, and I had another thought. I could be one of those lucky guys who met another single attendee and hit it off. For all I knew, I could leave the wedding with a coat check hook-up story. There were worse things that could happen.

I was able to find a parking spot pretty easily and went in the back entrance to the dressing room where my brother was already getting ready.

“Thought you weren’t coming, Bro.” So much for making the peace. It wasn’t like I hadn’t texted him.

“Yeah, sorry about that, but I’m here now. Tell me what needs doing, and I’ll make sure it happens.”

He let out a long sigh. “Just go into the chapel and make sure you see where you’re supposed to be.”

Normally, there’d have been a dress rehearsal, but since this was a popular venue, it had been booked solid. The rehearsal ended up being just a dinner with... I didn't know who, because I wasn’t invited. My mom made sure to tell me they weren’t actually doing the dress rehearsal part of it, though. So at least it wasn’ta case of them sending the invite late and then me being the bad guy for not being there.

“Okay, sounds good.” Anything to get out of this room.

I worked my way into the chapel, asking directions from an old man I saw walking around with a clipboard. If you had a clipboard, you were official enough to know where to go, in my book.