Torment (Carter Kids #4)

by Chloe Walsh

  "Because you are owed a favor."

  I cocked a brow but remained silent, waiting for Gonzalez to explain.

  Finally, he did.

  "You kept your mouth shut, kid," he explained. "You could have taken me down with you that night, and every night since." He made a clicking sound with his tongue. "You didn’t."

  "No," I agreed. "I didn’t." Gonzalez had never been my enemy. With the exception of one time when he crossed the line with Thorn, he'd been fair to me. "You're not my enemy, G," I told him calmly. "You never were."

  "I aint gonna argue with that, kid," he drawled. "So now, my question is what do you want?"

  "What do I want?" I repeated with a sigh. "I want to fucking sleep, G. I want to be able to leave my house and not have this horrible fucking feeling in the pit of my stomach that I'm a sitting duck." Clenching my fists, I added, "I want to get on with my life and leave the past in the past. I want to know that my wife is safe and my kid will grow up in a peaceful goddamn world, but most of all, I want JD Dennis' body rotting in a shallow fucking grave."

  Gonzalez was quiet for a long time before finally saying, "Then it will be done." Pulling a box of cigarettes out of his jeans pocket, he slipped one between his teeth before sparking up with a match. "I will take care of JD Dennis."

  "And why the fuck would you do that?" I shot back sarcastically.

  "Because I owe you a debt," he countered calmly. "It will take time. Maybe months. But I will track him down." He nodded once to himself, as if he had the whole thing mapped out in his mind. "I'll put my best men on his trail."

  Stunned and full of disbelief, I stood and gaped at my former part-time boss. "You're not serious."

  Gonzalez exhaled a cloud of smoke and smiled, revealing his yellow stained teeth. "I do not joke about my enemies," he told me, voice raspy. "I had plans on taking the bastard out anyways. Knowing I can settle a debt with his life makes it all the more enticing."

  "You're going to take him out?" I asked carefully.

  Gonzalez grinned darkly. "Consider him as good as dead."

  ****

  Chapter Two

  Hope

  The phone call from the states came in the middle of an otherwise boring Saturday afternoon.

  It wasn’t the phone call I had been expecting, but it was one that had put the fear of god inside of me.

  Tommy Moyet had been murdered.

  Noah had been shot.

  Teagan was pregnant.

  Instructions were doled out, flight information had been passed quickly down the line, followed by the promise that my father would be waiting for me at the airport.

  And then I did what any person in my situation would do; I boarded a plane back to America, knowing full well that I couldn’t not go home now.

  My family was in trouble.

  Someone had attempted to take my uncle's life, and my best friend was being targeted. Teagan was the closest I'd ever come to having a sister. Her friendship had gotten me through a bunch of ugly years – years I tried to keep blocked out. I couldn’t bail on her. Not when she needed me.

  The cold wind hit me the moment I stepped foot outside the airport and a comforting feeling shot through me.

  I was home…

  I'd been expecting my father to pick me up, so you can imagine my surprise when a blonde man, covered in tattoos from the neck down, stepped out of his truck.

  At first, I was taken aback. I wasn’t used to feeling anything at the sight of a man.

  But this man… well, this man had certainly caught my attention.

  I'd seen him before.

  Noah's friend, I realized.

  Goosebumps prickled my skin as I watched him saunter towards me. His skin was tan, like he'd spent too many summers working on a farm. His dirty blonde hair was streaked from the sun, and his eyes… He had the bluest eyes I'd ever seen. They were like icicles, almost crystal like, surrounded by sooty dark lashes. The week or so worth of stubble on his face was the icing on the cake of an already beautiful man.

  I made a mental note to write him into my next novel. I knew the girl's in my online reader group would just love this man.

  "Hope Carter?" he asked with a smile when he reached me, not waiting for my answer before picking up my luggage, which I thought was kind of weird. It was obvious he'd known who I was. The confident way he had walked towards me and picked up my suitcase assured me of that.

  "That's me," I replied carefully as I studied this peculiar man. His long, sun bleached blonde hair was pulled back in one of those really sexy man buns. Again, I surprised myself by thinking this. I'd never been a fan of long hair on men.

  But this man…

  Shaking my head, I smiled. "You're Noah's friend, right?" I paused, trying to remember his name. I'd met him briefly once before back in Ireland. "Lucky, right?"

  "Hunter," he corrected, and then he smiled this huge megawatt smile, revealing a set of pearly white teeth. "You can call me Hunter."

  Shrugging, I nodded and followed him to my father's truck. He waited for me to climb into the passenger seat and then closed the door before moving around to the driver's side.

  "So," Hunter said when he turned the key in the ignition and the truck roared to life. "Do you want to go home first or straight to the hospital?"

  I turned to face him and cocked a brow. "What do you think?"

  "The hospital it is," he shot back wisely as he reversed out of the parking space and pulled into traffic. "She's doing okay, you know," he added kindly, putting to ease all of my earlier worries. "Teagan," Hunter clarified. "And the baby, too."

  "I can't get my mind around any of it," I found myself confessing to this stranger. "The shooting. The baby." I shook my head and released a heavy sigh. "I swear, she leaves me for six months and this happens," I grumbled. "Those two are incapable of normal." Sliding my phone out of my jeans pocket, I checked the time before slipping it back in."

  "Yeah," Hunter chuckled in amusement. "Kids today, huh?"

  I narrowed my eyes. "Are you making fun of me?"

  "Never," he countered calmly.

  I watched from my side of the truck as he pulled a packet of cigarettes out of his jeans pocket and placed one between his lips. With one hand on the steering wheel, he used the other to light up.

  "You know smoking will kill you," I heard myself saying.

  Exhaling a cloud of smoke, Hunter's lip tipped upwards as he flicked this cigarette ash out of the open driver's side window. "You would think," was all he replied.

  Huh.

  I was stumped.

  What a peculiar answer.

  What was it with this guy?

  "So, what's your deal, Lucky – I mean Hunter…"

  "Casarazzi," he filled in for me.

  "Hunter Lucky Casarazzi," I repeated, examining the feel of his name on my lips. "What's your deal?"

  "Hope Carter," he mused in a thoughtful voice. Turning his head sideways, he pierced me with his ice-blue eyes, pinning me to my seat, rendering me paralyzed by his intense stare. "Well, shit..."

  "What?" My brow furrowed in confusion. "Okay, you have totally lost me."

  Hunter smiled knowingly at me before turning his attention back to the road.

  He was smirking like he knew something I didn’t.

  Suddenly, I had a burning intensity to figure him out.

  ****

  Teagan was lying in a bed when I looked through the glass door of her hospital room. My idiot brother was sitting on the edge of her bed. From the speed my brother's mouth was moving and the horrified expression on my best friend's face, I had no doubt Cameron was divulging some disgusting detail or another. It was practically his party trick.

  "You having second thoughts or something?" Hunter's voice came from beside me and I jumped.

  God, he could be as quiet as a cat when he wanted to be.

  "Sorry," he quickly added, noticing how startled I was. "Didn’t mean to spook you."

  "It's not you," I told
him, my voice no more than a whisper. "It's this."

  He stared at me in confusion. "This?"

  "Being back here," I explained. "With all this trouble starting back up." Shivering, I let out a sigh. "I'm just a writer in my mid-twenties who spends her days in cat printed pajamas and eating my weight in Oreos." I shook my head and nodded towards the door. "I am way out of my comfort zone right now."

  "Firstly, you're safe," Hunter told me. "The shooter is in custody."

  "Do you think she'll be okay?" I whispered, inclining my head towards Teagan.

  "She will," Hunter replied. "Noah will go down in flames before he lets a hair on her head get harmed."

  I knew that was true. Noah Messina's heart was thoroughly invested in my best friend. I had no doubt that he would take the world down to keep her safe. But the knowledge that Noah had no conscience when it came to the things he would do to keep his wife safe was what also scared me.

  "And for the record," Hunter smiled at me then, obviously trying to put me at ease, "you look damn good for a woman who eats her weight in Oreos."

  "Are you…" I paused and eyed him curiously. "Are you flirting with me?"

  "I am," he countered with a smirk. "I'm also kind of hoping that if I play my cards right, I'll get to see those cat pajamas?"

  "Not on your life. buddy," I chuckled. "I'm not that kind of woman."

  Lucky backed away from me, still smiling. "Oh, I'm counting on it."

  ****

  Teagan

  For the next week I remained in the hospital, curled up under the protection of hospital blankets, with the Carter triplets for company, while my husband dealt with the aftermath of the shooting.

  As my health had improved, my nausea had returned with a vengeance.

  I found myself spending most of each day desperate to keep what little I had inside of me…well, inside of me.

  Anxiety gnawed at my gut every time I read the daily newspaper, or checked my social media accounts. Horrible close ups of the body bag enclosing Tommy Moyet's dead body were splashed on every news channel and paper. It was inescapable and my heart hurt for my husband.

  In all honesty, I was glad to be tucked away in the small, private room in St. Luke's Hospital, Boulder, and away from the media frenzy happening outside the hospital walls.

  The police had been and gone. Asking questions. Looking for witness statements. What could I say? Not a damn thing. I couldn't explain it any more than they could. It made no sense.

  This was wrecking Noah. I knew it was. Losing Tommy in the way he did had crushed him. He wasn’t talking about it. He wasn’t even talking much about anything – not to me, at least.

  He was like a hurricane; storming through, leaving everyone thrown out. I didn’t know what to say to him to make him feel better. I suppose there was nothing to say. His best friend was dead and he was in the throes of grief. I, above all others, knew that Noah didn’t like to be pitied. Deep down inside I knew he blamed me for them parting on bad terms. He would never admit it, but it was obvious.

  It was true…

  "Did you know that a woman's uterus stretches to over five hundred times its normal size during pregnancy?" Colton Carter, who was currently sprawled out on the reclining armchair beside me, asked. With his feet on my bed, he flicked through the pages of a planned parenting magazine. "And it says here, a woman was reported to have given birth to a fifteen-pound baby in Lebanon."

  "What are you trying to do to me, Colt?" I manage to squeeze out. "Frighten me into labor?"

  "Relax, Teegs," Colt chuckled. Stretching out, he munched on a packet of chips. "I'd bet my last dollar the baby won't come early." Flicking through the pages once more, he settled on the center page, and grinned. "She'll do her full stretch inside, just like her daddy."

  "Not funny."

  Colton cocked a brow. "Is that why you're smiling – because it's not funny?"

  Damn him. He was right. My lips had tipped upwards of their own accord.

  "I'm so worried about him," I confessed after a few minutes of silence. My voice was small when I spoke. It was probably being smothered by my anxiety. "He's closing down," I added, thinking about my husband. "Blocking me out."

  Watching my husband self-destruct was without doubt one of the hardest things I ever had to do. I couldn't help him. I couldn't barge my way into his mind and fight his grief for him. It was a fight that had to be fought alone. It made me feel incredibly helpless. And I hated it.

  Knowing that there was nothing I could do didn't stop me from wanting to help, regardless of how unwelcome my help would be.

  It was like someone once said, way back in high school, if I was a lone wolf then Noah was the alpha.

  We were both creatures of isolation and contempt, brought together by a love that was indescribable and a deep seeded need to fit in…

  "He's not doing it on purpose, Beautiful," Colton offered, pulling me from my thoughts.

  "Sure feels like he's doing it on purpose, Colt." The fact that I hadn't seen Noah all day today and most of yesterday only enhanced my worrying.

  "He's stressed and grieving," Colt said, reading my thoughts easily. "Is he handling it the right way? No, probably not, but who's to say what's the right way to deal with something like this?" He stretched his arms over his head and yawned. "That dude needs you more than you'll ever know. In Noah's world, there's only you. Everyone else is just scar tissue – worthless."

  "I'm frightened," I whispered, mortified. "I am so scared, Colton."

  "No need to be afraid of a damn thing," he replied confidently, holding out a chip for me to take. "Your Noah fucking Messina's wife. What the hell have you got to be scared of?"

  "Noah not wanting this," I muttered, taking the potato chip from his outstretched hand. Biting hard into the salt and vinegar flavored goodie, I chewed nervously. "What if he has cold feet?" Or worse. "What if he feels…you know…like I trapped him?"

  Colton snorted. "You honestly think Noah isn’t happy about that baby?"

  "We're not…stable," I admitted, voice torn. "We're either on cloud nine or tearing strips out of one another."

  "You say that like it's a bad thing?"

  "Isn't it?"

  "I don't think so, Teegs." Setting the bag of potato chips down, Colton sat straight up and swung his legs onto the floor.

  "I have a theory," he announced and I rolled my eyes to the heavens

  "Great," I muttered under my breath. "Another Colton Carter theory."

  "Listen," he chuckled. "I've been with a lot of women in my time."

  "Okay, first off, you're twenty-three," I shot back, gagging. "And second, that's an image I could have done without visualizing."

  "Don’t pretend you've never pictured me naked," he shot back teasingly.

  I gaped. "You just don’t stop, do you?"

  "You're doing it now, aren’t you?" Colt waggled his brows. "Picturing me naked."

  "Please," I said queasily, desperately trying to shut out the mental image of Colton having sex. "It's like picturing the baby brother I never had banging multiple women."

  "Uh-huh," Colt said enthusiastically. "And what would that look like?"

  "You sick little…Ugh…oh God, I'm going to kill you…ugh." Throwing the covers off my body, I raced into the adjoining bathroom and threw myself at the mercy of the toilet bowl just as the entire contents of my stomach projected out of my mouth. Clinging to the porcelain like it was the only thing keeping my upright, I heaved loudly, and mentally visualized a voodoo doll of Colton, one with multiple pins embedded in his crotch.

  Feeling empty, violated, and panting in relief, I remained positioned over the toilet for a few more minutes, until my brain was convinced my stomach had decided to stop screwing with me.

  When I was as certain as I could be that my body wouldn’t betray me again, I climbed unsteadily to my feet and trudged back to bed, not bothering to brush my teeth. With any luck, the smell of my vomit breath would make Colton spew his guts up.


  "Feeling better, dear Aunt?" he asked with a knowing wink when I climbed back into bed.

  "Much, little nephew," I shot back, equally as sarcastic. There wasn’t much point in even attempting to be mad or stay mad with Colton. He was extremely lovable and reminded me of a boisterous Labrador puppy, all bark and no bite, with a cute waggy tail and a big dopey head.

  "So, where were we?" Colton asked before adding, "Oh yeah, you thinking your husband doesn’t love you anymore."

  "Way to put it bluntly, Colt," I choked out, feeling physically speared.

  Colt lifted his palms upwards. "If you wanted tact then you should have asked Logan," he said in a sheepish tone before adding, "What you've got to understand is that Noah was raised by a mob. The guy was breastfed violence and spoon-fed hatred. He never felt an ounce of love throughout his childhood."

  "Wow, that's a gross analogy," I quipped, smirking.

  "It's the truth," Colt countered in a serious tone he rarely used. "There are dog fighters who show their pit-bull's more affection than Noah was shown." He narrowed his blue eyes. "And they sure as hell don't beat their dogs after winning fights."

  "It was awful, wasn’t it?" Closing my eyes, I forced back the memories of watching Noah taking beatings. "I never knew hatred until I met the Dennis family."

  "He wants that baby, Teagan," my husband's nephew assured me in a bright tone. "And her mama."

  "Colt." Tears pooled my eyes. "I…" Speechless, I reached out my hand and patted his shoulder. "I…"

  "Don't cry," he warned me, leaning back. "I don't do well with hormonal women."

  "What if I suck at this?" I choked out. Sniffling, I tried to compose myself. "What if I'm not cut out for motherhood?"

  "Do you have a beating heart?"

  "Well, yeah."

  "And a uterus in working order?" he deadpanned.

  "I think so?"

  "Then you're cut out for this," was all he replied.