Cole (Hunting Her)

by Eden Summers

  For Cole to even contemplate our relationship through any of this would be… I don’t know. Overwhelming… Confusing… Crazy.

  A cell rings and Penny is the only one to break the statuesque stance to drag her phone from her pocket.

  There are murmured affirmations. Nods of agreement. Then a soft farewell before she disconnects. “Luca and Decker are asking for food supplies.” She starts for the hall. “I’ll be back later. Please keep me informed.”

  “Wait, I’ll come with you.” Keira hustles to catch up with her, both of them leaving without another word.

  It returns to the bitter quiet of grief, the occasional sniffle or hiccupped breath from Layla the only thing to temporarily disrupt the hollowness. And there’s so damn much of it. A wealth of unanswered questions to leave me empty. A heart full of speculation I need to fill.

  “Did Cole say anything else?” I look to the men for answers. “What did you discuss in the car?”

  “Look, there’s nothing that can be done,” Hunter sneers. “Nothing by you anyway. Stay out of it.”

  Benji moves behind his wife, clasping her shoulders. “Let’s go back to our room. You should take a Valium to help settle—”

  “Go to hell.” She wrenches away from him. “I’m not taking another goddamn Valium just so you can shut me up. You might not care that it’s our daughter who’s been left in there, but I do.”

  Benji’s face falls. “I care.”

  “Then show it,” she demands. “Get her back.”

  His pain morphs to shame, then animosity. He clenches his fists, his cheeks turning red. “I’m going to our room.”

  “Of course you are. Leave, just when your daughter needs you the most.”

  “Layla,” Sarah snaps. “Stop it. There’s nothing he can do.”

  Benji stalks for the hall. The penthouse door slams seconds later.

  “I won’t stop fighting for Stella.” Layla climbs to her feet. “You can all stand here and pretend to care, but it’s not your child who was abandoned by her own uncle.” She storms after her husband, but it’s the far bedroom door that smacks shut, the force rattling the windows.

  “I don’t know what to do,” Sarah admits. “I feel helpless.”

  “It’s up to Torian.” Hunter slumps onto the sofa, his heavy frame dwarfing the furniture. “It’s his choice whether to negotiate with these fuckers, bringing them into our lives long-term. Or to risk the safety of those kids by attempting to retrieve them with force.”

  “What about the man Cole killed?” I ask. “Is he just going to leave him in their hands?”

  Hunter kicks his boots onto the coffee table, crossing his feet at the ankles. “Who the fuck knows?”

  The master bedroom door opens and Cole steps out in a new suit, his hair damp, his arms full of clothes. He strides for Hunter, handing over the bundle of material. “I need these incinerated. Make sure nothing is left behind.”

  His expression is devoid of emotion. Not one hint into his psyche.

  Hunter inclines his head. “I’ll get it done.”

  The exchange is sterile. Entirely bleak. It tears me apart.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  Cole doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t even acknowledge my existence. “I’m taking a walk.”

  I start after him. “I’ll come with you.”

  “No,” he grates over his shoulder. “Stay here.”

  I don’t know what hurts more—the dismissal or the distance he’s placed between us.

  I’m tempted to defy him. To follow. To insert myself into his bubble of animosity until he lets down his guard. But that’s all for my benefit. To make me feel better. To ease my suffering.

  I can’t make this harder on him.

  Instead, I let him go, my heart breaking as he walks away.

  22

  Cole

  I circle the block but the frigid air does nothing to dislodge the guilt choking my clarity.

  Layla’s right. I chose to walk out on those kids. I left them behind.

  I could’ve given my word and figured out a way to break it later.

  I should’ve agreed to marriage. To a lifelong commitment. Anything and everything to get Stella and Tobias back.

  Instead, I got caught up obsessing about my reputation if I gave in to Costa. I fought against pride, disgust, and fucking rage. I struggled to come to terms with not only a conversation that was out of my control, but the potential future where my family would be the weakest link.

  And I thought about her. Anissa. The woman I wouldn’t disrespect by claiming as my mistress if I became entangled in a mess that could drag me to hell.

  I contemplated her too fucking much when I should’ve said whatever was necessary to secure those kids.

  That option is gone now.

  I abandoned them and have to live with the guilt. I also have to figure out what the fuck to do next when every possible option isn’t an option at all.

  There’s no easy way out. No cheat sheet.

  I stop in the middle of the sidewalk and rake my hands through my hair, pulling at the strands. My limbs thrum with the need to retaliate. To fucking kill.

  If given the chance, I’d wipe that faux smile from Emmanuel’s face with a slap of his son’s dismembered hand. But while those children are in his possession, I’m powerless.

  I call Decker for an update, and find out Stella and Tobias are clearly visible in the living room watching television with Emmanuel’s wife.

  They’re safe. Calm.

  “He’s still taking care of them,” Decker assures me. “I know it felt like shit to walk away, but it was the right decision.”

  I disconnect the call, not wanting his goddamn approval.

  I didn’t make the right decision, because there wasn’t one. There still isn’t.

  “Fuck this shit.” I keep walking, circling the block—once, twice—until I find myself back in front of the hotel doors, the window to the bar a temptation I can’t ignore.

  I stalk my ass inside and seat myself at the back of the room, the lone staff member behind the bar eying me with unease.

  She wipes her hands on her apron and makes her way toward me, her steps cautious before she stops a few feet away. “Excuse me, sir. The bar doesn’t open until noon.”

  “Make an exception.” I grab my wallet and retrieve a wad of cash, sliding it toward her. “I need a drink. Scotch. Heavy handed.”

  I keep my attention on the cash, not wanting her to see the devil in my eyes.

  “I, umm…” She clears her throat. “I really shouldn’t. I’d have to check with the manager.”

  “Not even for a penthouse guest?” I rest into my seat, leaving the offer on the table. “I’m sure staff of this fine establishment are told to give their highest-paying customers the best service.”

  She straightens. “Umm. Yes, sir, of course. I’ll be right back with your drink.”

  “Bring the bottle. Top shelf.”

  She turns on her heel and hustles away, returning with my prize and a glass with ice. I stare past her to the world outside as she pours a finger, wishing I had something stronger to ease the rage. To fucking eviscerate it. But there’s no escaping this.

  “Can I get you anything else, sir?”

  “Privacy,” I grate. “I don’t want to be disturbed.”

  She nods, retreating. “I’ll be setting up the bar if you need me. The doors will open in less than an hour.”

  I clasp the glass, tilting it in acknowledgement before throwing back the contents. I don’t question the stupidity of lowering my IQ. The liquor is a necessity. If I don’t dull the sharp edges of my self-loathing none of us will make it through the day.

  We’re all fucked if I can’t get my shit together.

  My cell vibrates in my pocket before I can pour another. Anissa. I know it’s her before I pull out the phone and read the screen.

  The device flashes as it pulses in my palm, over and over, the disturbance ratcheting up my
discontent. I barely blink as I will the call to end, too fucking pathetic to reject it. I can’t sever anything with this woman. Never could.

  The buzzing stops, bringing a surge of isolation with it.

  I drop the device onto the table and drink some more, searching for clarity or maybe oblivion.

  She’s helped to create such a fucked up mess. All it took was one glance. A superior smirk at my uncle’s funeral. A few taunting words.

  Since then I’ve savored angering her, disgusting her. I’ve even lavished the struggle to turn her hatred into affection.

  It was meant to be fun.

  A challenge.

  It never was. There’s always been more—the compulsion driven by a chemical attraction I can’t deny.

  No female has ever distracted me the way she does. No man, woman, or child has choked me of common sense like my little fox.

  My cell vibrates again, her name mocking me.

  I grasp the device, itching to throw it. Like always, I succumb to the addiction and swipe the screen, listening in silence.

  “Cole? Where are you?”

  I close my eyes. Clench my teeth.

  “Cole?” she pleads. “You’re worrying the hell out of me. Tell me where you are.”

  I know her fears. I always have. She may be concerned for my safety, but I’d bet my life she’s more worried about her freedom. Her future.

  This has gone far beyond abduction.

  It’s blackmail now.

  Extortion.

  Murder.

  I never should’ve dragged her into this.

  “Listen to me,” she demands. “I’m calling Easton. I can’t keep quiet any longer. You need help—”

  “Like hell you will.” I slap my hand on the table at the whiplash of that asshole’s face in my mind. “You call him and I’ll make sure he’s dead before he can organize any so-called help.”

  “Then tell me where you are.”

  I stiffen. Straighten.

  She deliberately triggered me.

  Fucking Nissa.

  I scoff out a sickening laugh and pour another finger of scotch.

  “Cole, please. Let me come to you so we can talk.”

  I clench the glass in my fist. I do the same with the cell as I attempt to withstand her allure. Effortlessly, she does a number on my pathetic weakness, calling to my obsession with her endearing voice.

  “Hotel bar. Come alone.” I disconnect the call and slide the cell back onto the table.

  I should send her home.

  Everyone else needs to be here—my sisters, Luca, Penny, Decker. They all have an emotional tie to this situation. Everyone except Anissa. She’s an unnecessary risk. And becoming an even bigger crutch.

  The weight of her impediment only becomes more evident when she strides into the bar, her eyes frantically seeking mine, her beauty flawless as she wordlessly strips me of strength.

  Worry settles into her features as she stops at the seat across from me, eying the scotch glass. The bottle. My face.

  “Tell me what happened.” She pulls out the chair and sits before me.

  I don’t respond. Not in words. I merely stare at her, sipping my scotch, willing her to walk away.

  “Cole?” She raises a brow. “Talk.”

  “Why? So you have more information to give your boyfriend?” I tilt my glass at her in sarcastic praise. “Nice move with threatening to call him. I should’ve guessed he’d be the first person you thought of when I failed.”

  “You didn’t fail.” She cringes. “And it wasn’t a threat. I don’t know what to do. Easton is the only person I could possibly turn to. I have no family. No friends. I’m alone here. I want to help and I have nobody else to rely on. But I didn’t call him. I blocked his number yesterday because I felt guilty whenever he messaged me.”

  “Let me be clear.” I place the glass on the table and lean close, glaring. “Involving him will never help me. Not even if I’m on death’s doorstep. Do you understand?”

  “I understand your stubbornness,” she counters. “I understand your wounded pride.”

  I flash my teeth in a snarl. “Go back to the room, Anissa. I can’t focus with you here.”

  “I’m not going anywhere. Not until you tell me what happened.”

  “You heard,” I grate. “You were on the damn call.”

  “No, I heard parts. Snippets at best. One minute, Emmanuel was discussing an arranged marriage. The next, there was nothing. I don’t know what happened after that. I don’t know why you left or what agreement you made.”

  I swirl the remaining liquid in my glass. “Does it matter?”

  Her eyes soften into a look of sympathy. Pathetic pity. “Of course it does. I’m worried about those kids.” Her tongue snakes out to moisten her taut lower lip. “And I’m worried about you. Are you considering marrying this woman?”

  “I have little choice.” I hold her gaze, attempting to decipher her thoughts over the prospect of my pending nuptials. “Right now, Costa has all the power. I can’t wait around while he’s got Stella and Tobias.”

  She swallows, her nose crinkling.

  She’s hurting.

  I’m hurting her.

  “It would be temporary.” I want to reach out. To touch the pain away. “If I take that option, I’d marry her until I was in a position to get rid of her without leaving my hands dirty.”

  She winces, shaking her head. “Wouldn’t Costa assume as much? Why would he risk his daughter?”

  “My guess is that he either thinks I’m not capable of killing a woman, or that he can convince me of the benefits of the marriage before she’s dead.”

  She keeps shaking her head. Keeps denying what has to happen if I take that route. “Would you at least meet her first? To see who she is? What she’s like?”

  “This is a business decision. Not a love match. Looks and personality don’t matter.”

  Her wince deepens, her unease multiplying.

  “You don’t agree with what has to be done?” I ask. “Do you have a better idea?”

  “It’s not that I don’t agree. I just don’t understand. If this was the only choice, why didn’t you commit straight away and bring those kids home?”

  She’s fishing for answers I don’t want to give. Admitting my exposure is loathsome. Fucking deplorable. But maybe that’s what needs to be brought to light to help cement my way forward.

  “Only one thing stopped me from giving in to Costa on the spot,” I admit.

  She sucks in a breath as if sensing the severity of my approaching truth. “What was it?”

  I throw back the remainder of scotch, needing the burn to lessen the instinct to keep my mouth shut. “You, little fox. You’re the only thing.”

  It wasn’t the freedom of those children I thought about when the arranged marriage was put on the table. It wasn’t my sister’s pain or Benji’s struggle.

  My mind had focused on Anissa. The fucking Fed. The woman who has brought me to my knees without even knowing it.

  I’ve convinced myself the kids were relatively safe under the watchful eye of the old woman. I’ve told myself that buying time to strategize was the only option.

  But there was little strategy in my delay.

  It all came down to selfishness.

  I hesitated because I didn’t want to give Nissa up.

  If it wasn’t for my narcissism, those kids could already be free.

  Stella would be in Layla’s arms. Tobias would be snuggled close with Penny. The jet would be in the air, taking us home, and I’d be making wedding plans with a woman I’d soon dispose of.

  But at least the children would be safe.

  “Say something,” I demand.

  For numerous pained heartbeats Anissa stares right through me, blinking her wild eyes. “What do you want me to say?”

  I scoff. “I dunno. Maybe something to address the fact I risked everything for you. For us.” I slam my glass down on the table. “I should’ve agreed to marr
iage as soon as it was mentioned and worried about figuring out a way to gain the upper hand over Emmanuel later. But what I couldn’t do is spit in the face of what we have without speaking to you first.”

  “You shouldn’t have.” She shudders. Cringes. Shakes her head some more. “Why would you do that? I don’t understand why I was a part of your process at all. It’s too much.”

  “Is it? Have I got us so completely wrong that I’m imagining shit that doesn’t even exist between us?”

  “It existed.” She looks at me with despair. “But it shouldn’t have. This is getting too complicated.”

  “So that’s your decision? You’re telling me to marry her?”

  “No.” She balks. “I’m not telling you to do anything. It’s not my choice to make.”

  “That’s exactly what this is,” I add spite to my tone. “I’m letting you know right now, my decision to marry this woman rests firmly on your shoulders.”

  “No.” She glares and pushes to her feet.

  I do the same, grabbing her wrist to drag her back down and hold her across the table. “You’re meant to be at my side,” I snarl. “It’s where you belong.”

  “I don’t know where I belong.” Her voice cracks. “But I’m certain it’s meant to be in a far simpler life than this.”

  There’s a plea in her words. An unspoken cry for help.

  It fucking kills me.

  “I’m drowning, Cole. I don’t know how to help you.”

  “Then go.” I release her. “I’ll book you a flight and arrange a car. I’ll have the concierge send your belongings back tomorrow. You don’t even need to go upstairs to pack.”

  She continues to glare, yet there’s no venom in her focus. The viciousness is smothered under a far heavier emotion. She wants to admit her desire to stay. She needs to, if only she wasn’t more stubborn than I am.

  “Leave, Anissa.” I jerk my head toward the lobby. “Go and don’t look back. I won’t stop you. I won’t seek you out again either. If you want this to be done, it’s done.”

  The admission burns holes in my throat. But it’s the truth. If she walks, I’ll give my promise to be married, and retrieve those kids. I’ll figure out how to break ties with Costa later, while siphoning revenge along the way.