Cole (Hunting Her)

by Eden Summers

  There’s a beat of volcanic animosity where I question who the hell I’ve become, my pulse ratcheting higher, my heart thundering. Threatening him like this goes against everything I used to stand for. It’s careless and impulsive. And feels so fucking right I can’t quit.

  “Where are you guys?” Sarah asks. “Does anyone else have eyes on them?”

  Hunter smirks, the curve of lips more of a sneer.

  “So help me God, motherfucker, if you don’t hurry up and follow I’ll pull the trigger and dump your ass in the street. There’s no way I’m losing that car.”

  He keeps the grin in place as he rolls his eyes, then without a word, he starts the ignition, my gun still digging into his head as he cuts into traffic.

  “Hunt, where are you?” Sarah’s’ frantic voice adds to my building adrenaline. “What’s going on?”

  He bats away my arm and unmutes the call. “I’m following. We’ll be a few cars behind the Lincoln.”

  “What was with the radio silence?” Benji interrupts.

  “We’ve had contact from Costa.” Hunt indicates into the middle lane, remaining a few vehicles behind our target. “He sent a video of Torian.”

  “What video?” Decker demands. “Is he still breathing?”

  “He’s breathing just fine.” Hunter shoots me a grin. “Isn’t he, Miss Piggy?”

  I clench my teeth and shove my gun back into its holster before I’m more tempted to squeeze the trigger.

  “The footage showed Torian with a woman. I assume it’s Costa’s hot-as-fuck daughter. And the two seem to be getting along well, if her position over his dick is anything to go by.”

  “A sex tape?” Sarah scoffs. “Are you serious?”

  “Not a sex tape.” Hunt takes a left, following the Lincoln down a busy street compacted with traffic. “Just the prelude.”

  “Fuck you,” I mutter under my breath. He’s only saying this to destroy me. To cut and slice at what I have with Cole. “I’m not leaving, no matter how hard you push.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “We can figure out motives later.” Luca talks over our mutterings. “For now, keep an eye on those kids and give me directions. I’ve only just made it to my rental.”

  Sarah relays the information from her position somewhere behind us, while I force myself to remain focused on things that don’t whip up volatile emotion.

  “We’re moving onto the I-5.” Hunter pulls onto the exit, remaining out of sight behind other vehicles as daylight fades to black.

  The cover of darkness will work in our favor, as long as we don’t lose the Lincoln.

  And if we do… My throat squeezes, the dryness of apprehension taking over my mouth.

  I can’t handle the unknown. My fear over what happens next is blinding. Suffocating. It doesn’t help that riding alongside Hunter is a task drowning in complete sterility.

  We don’t communicate through the passing miles. Not apart from the telepathic messages of hatred I send his way.

  He’s entirely cold to my existence. An invisible barrier has been built between us.

  As the minutes drag by, I unlock Cole’s phone and replay the video. I watch it over and over, reading expressions and body language. I scrutinize Cole’s fingers on the woman’s thigh and his intent focus on her face so close to his.

  Their physical contact turns my veins to ash, my thoughts to suffering. I press play so many times I memorize the footage from start to finish, the valves in my heart seeming to rip apart from one another to create a chasm of carnage.

  “Quit looking at it.” Hunt reaches out to mute his cell. “You’re eating out of their fucking hands. Buying into their stupid game.”

  I can’t stop. All I want is one hint to ease my suffering. Just one little clue to tell me Cole hasn’t succumbed to Emmanuel’s plan. I keep watching. One more time. Then two.

  “Fucking stop,” he grates. “They sent it to make you jealous, and it’s working.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Why else would they send it? Do you think Torian asked for a souvenir?” He rests one arm against the car door, chilled as fuck in the middle of a wildfire. “My guess is he declined the arranged marriage. And they’re attempting the soft-cock option of getting rid of you.”

  I replay the footage again. The hands. The proximity.

  “If it were me—” Hunt indicates into the second lane, passing another vehicle. “—I would’ve taken pleasure in putting a bullet through your brain. But women usually cut and run when they see their man fucking around with someone else. So I guess whatever works…”

  I wince, even though the slightest sense of hope warms me. “You think this is staged?”

  “Not staged. But not a true indication of what’s going down.” He doesn’t look at me. There’s no emotion to his words either. He’s still calm. Cool. Arctic. Yet his insight could almost be considered an act of kindness. Almost. If I wasn’t fully aware of his raging asshole status.

  “Why are you telling me this?” I attempt to read his caged expression through the soft glow of the dashboard lights and come up with nothing.

  “The shooting you part or…?”

  “No,” I grate. “Why did you say he must’ve declined the arranged marriage? Why be nice enough to tell me the one thing I want to hear when you’ve made it clear how you feel about me?”

  His jaw ticks, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel.

  “Hunter? Why say anything at all?”

  “It’s my job,” he snarls. “I do what’s in his best interests.”

  “But you didn’t when the video first arrived.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  I don’t understand. “How?”

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters under his breath. “I didn’t think you would stick around. I thought you’d walk.”

  “So you taunted me about the recording to speed up the process?”

  He keeps staring straight ahead. “I should’ve tried harder.”

  “And now you suddenly think it’s in his best interest to have me here?”

  “Hell no. I still want you to fuck off. The only difference now is that I don’t think you will.”

  He’s right.

  I won’t.

  At least not unless I’m forced out by an arranged marriage.

  I want to explore what life could be like in the grey, where things aren’t clear-cut and right or wrong. I want to hold on to the strength and confidence he’s stoked inside me. I want to delve deeper beneath his vicious love.

  “That video means nothing,” Hunter mutters. “There’s nobody more loyal than Torian, not only to his men, but also his women. He’d never stoop low enough to cheat on you. He’s more likely to kill you than ever go behind your back to fuck someone else.”

  I huff out a breath, strangely comforted.

  “What I’m saying,” he continues, “is that there’s a story behind that video and it’s got nothing to do with him wanting her to ride his dick and everything to do with strategy.”

  “And you’re telling me because I stuck around,” I repeat, needing validation.

  “I’m telling you because you’re his now, which means you’re also mine to inform and protect, no matter how much I fucking hate the prospect.”

  I want to scoff. To laugh in the face of his admission. But there’s something in his words that brings me more comfort than I care to admit. In his own fucked up way, Hunter has made me feel at home in this foreign world.

  “Shit.” He slaps a meaty finger against his cell. “We’re heading off the I-5. Nobody follow. We don’t want to make this obvious.”

  I lock Cole’s phone and shove it into the glove compartment, sitting forward in my seat as Hunter waits for the Lincoln to take the exit and drive from view before he cuts his headlights and continues with the pursuit.

  We’re out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by darkness. There’s no glow from nearby houses. No sign of life.

  “This do
esn’t look good.” I take off my jacket and drape it over the illuminated dash screen, blanketing us in shadow. “Why would Costa want the kids out here?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine.” He eases off the accelerator as the road straightens, the red tail lights of the Lincoln now tiny dots in the distance.

  We struggle to keep up through the limited vision, crossing a bridge we almost miss, only to have our target disappear.

  “We lost them.” My chest squeezes with impatience. “Where did they go?”

  “We didn’t lose shit. The road curves up ahead. So pipe down and let me do what I do.”

  We drive with nothing but the full moon to cast the slightest glimmer over the asphalt.

  I fidget, my leg returning to the constant jostle. “Whatever you do, don’t touch the brakes. They’ll see our lights.”

  “Are you fucking serious right now?” He shoots me a glare. “You’re really going to give me pointers?”

  I ignore his ego and the constant churn of nausea in my belly. We can’t have much farther to go. This has to end soon.

  “Sarah, kill your headlights and follow.” Hunt raises his voice and jerks his head at me. “Send her our GPS location.”

  I do his bidding, using his cell to text the information.

  “I’m on my way,” she responds. “Luca is riding with us now. We’ll catch up soon.”

  When I raise my vision from his phone, the Lincoln seems so far away. The tail lights are barely a blip in the distance. “We’re losing them. You need to catch up.”

  “I know what I’m doing.” He waits until the red glow disappears, then presses his foot down. For long minutes, we drive like this. Slow, then fast. Following lights, then seeing nothing but darkness, until we reach a sweeping curve that sends us in a different direction.

  “Where the fuck are they going?” Hunter grates. “This could be a goddamn trap.”

  We round the bend and he leans forward at the sight of an illuminated entrance to a property roughly half a mile away.

  There’s no Lincoln in sight. No sign of another car at all. Only a wall of trees stretching along the property’s border, the towering barrier stretching into the night.

  “Look.” I point to a speck of red through the dense foliage. “A tail light.”

  He jerks his chin in acknowledgement. “And house lights.”

  I see them, the slithers of orange slipping through the thick trunks.

  “Sarah, we’re stopping.” Hunter quietens his voice. “I’m going to hang up and send through our final location but make sure you lay low. There’s nothing out here. Any noise will draw attention.” He pulls off the road, inching the vehicle slowly through long grass before cutting the engine. “I’ll have earpieces and extra ammo waiting for you. Let me know when you arrive.”

  “We will.”

  He grabs the phone, disconnects, and taps his screen a few times before shoving it into his pocket. “This is it, boss bitch.” He reaches into the back seat to retrieve a duffle. “Are you going to do me a solid and stay in the car?”

  My adrenaline and apprehension surge, flooding me, the energy buzzing through my veins. “You know the answer to that.”

  Hunter reefs open the duffle and pulls out a hard plastic case to reveal earpieces hidden inside. Six different sets. All encased in foam padding. “I know what I want your answer to be.” He settles back in his seat to look at me. “Whatever is happening in there isn’t going to be pretty. And it sure as shit won’t be legal.”

  “I’ve made my decision.” My chest tightens. Restricts. I made the choice back in Greece. My future was always going to revolve around Cole. “I’m all in. He means too much to me.”

  Hunter sighs and lobs an earpiece in my direction. “Then keep your fucking head in the game and make sure your heart stays out of it.”

  29

  Cole

  “I think it’s time for that drink.” I spread my arms along the back of the sofa, allowing my gaze free rein to stalk Abri’s body as she straddles my hips like a stripper itching for a generous tip.

  “Okay.” She slides off me, clearly doing her best to provide as much friction as possible before she walks to the alcohol cart. “See? I’m not too proud to do your bidding.”

  “I can definitely see that.”

  I’ve given her what she wanted.

  Time. Attention. Indulgence.

  I’ve listened to her husky promises of a bright future. I held my disinterest at bay as she removed her blazer and undid the top button of her blouse, attempting to seduce me with the barest hint of cleavage.

  I even ate up my rage and frustration, humoring her enthusiasm while I gained insight.

  Now, I’m done playing with my food.

  “Tell me, Abri, why did you say earlier that we wouldn’t be able to leave unless your father was satisfied with the time we spent here?”

  She frowns and grabs the bottle of Macallan. “Because he wants to make sure you think this through properly.”

  “You said ‘we,’ though. Not just me. But both of us.” I scrutinize her, noting the slightest twang of tension entering her shoulders.

  “We’re both involved.” She pours my liquor, then dumps the bottle back onto the cart. “I thought that would be obvious.”

  I incline my head. “It’s the way you said it. It made me think you’re not such a willing participant in this after all.”

  She chuckles, the jovial show unconvincing. “I’m willing.” She pastes on a smile and saunters back to me, handing over the scotch before reclaiming her seat on my dick, her hands finding my shoulders.

  “Well, unfortunately, my feelings haven’t changed. I won’t be humoring you or your father any longer.”

  She reaches for me, raking her fingers through the hair at my nape. “He’ll be disappointed. Why don’t we sleep on it?”

  “I’ll pass.” It’s my turn to laugh, the low snicker encouraging her genuine smile to return. “You also said you know who I am. What information did your father give you? How deep did Daddy dig into my life?”

  “I was smart enough to do my own research.”

  I latch on to more clues, eating up her crumbs as she continues her seduction.

  “Your own? Interesting.” I swirl the liquor in the glass, my arms remaining outstretched over the back of the sofa. “Doesn’t your father keep you well informed?”

  “On the things that matter, yes. Of course he does.”

  “Good.” I nod, doing my best to resist the numbing bliss of the alcohol. I’ve used the sedative trick too many times to fall for it myself. “That means you’ll be able to alleviate my concerns about what happened with the body this morning. What did your brothers do with the guy executed in the penthouse?”

  Her expression pauses. Confusion sets in.

  “Where did they dump him? And the blood…” I lower my free hand, placing it on her hip. “Did they get it out of the office carpet? I’ve got a man who knows a trick or two about cleaning up a scene.”

  She breaks eye contact to reach for her champagne flute on the corner table. “I’m sure everything was handled properly.” She raises the glass to her lips, gently sipping, pretending she’s okay with the information she clearly hadn’t been privy to.

  “Yeah.” I swirl a lone fingertip in a slow pattern along her leg. “I’m sure you’re right.”

  Her sickeningly sweet smile is no longer fixed on me when she places the flute back onto the table. She’s let down her mask enough to show I rattled her.

  “How do your brothers usually handle clean-up?” I tilt my head, attempting to regain eye contact. “Are they the type to dump a body in a river? Or do they prefer the ‘dismember and dissolve’ trick?”

  She doesn’t look at me as she huffs in humorous disbelief. “I’m not sure.”

  “So you’re not informed on those type of things?” I keep trailing a swirling pattern with my fingertip, lazily taunting. “What about information about the people your father does
business with? Are you aware that my family isn’t new to yours?”

  “Yes.” She raises her chin slightly, emboldened by her insight. “Your father and uncle attended some of our house parties when I was little. They were both ladies’ men, if I recall. Always surrounded by a swarm of beautiful women.”

  “Slaves,” I correct. “Beautiful women, yes. But slaves who had no choice in the company they kept.”

  Those lashes continue to bat. Her chin remains high.

  For brief seconds, she stares at me in silence before she says, “I know what you’re trying to do and it won’t work.”

  “What am I trying to do, snowflake?” I swirl my scotch and slide my other hand higher, over her hip, her waist, all the way up to her shoulder. “Other than continue the discussion you’ve forced upon me.”

  “You’re attempting to frighten me. Even after I’ve made it clear I don’t scare easily.”

  I guide my palm to her neck, a move once reserved for Anissa, but this has nothing to do with pleasure and everything to do with destruction.

  “I’m beginning to see that. It’s admirable.” I tighten my hold, firm and fucking direct. “Especially if you’re undeterred by the knowledge of your family’s association with sex trafficking. Or that the hand gripping your vulnerable throat is the same one that stabbed a letter opener through a man’s temple mere hours ago.”

  She purses her lips. “You’re lying.”

  “If you think so, why not ask your father?” I keep adding pressure against her neck, tighter and tighter until she begins lifting her chin from the restriction.

  “Careful,” she warns. “They’re watching.”

  I keep my hand in place, undaunted.

  “Cameras.” She hikes her brows with confidence. “Two of them. On opposite sides of the room.”

  “You think cameras will save you?” A slow grin spreads across my lips. “You have my brother and niece.” I keep my voice low as I dig my fingertips into her delicate skin. “You’re holding children hostage from a man who’s spent his life perfecting the art of revenge. Do you really think I’ll spare voyeurs a second thought if I decide I want you dead?”