Luca (Hunting Her)

by Eden Summers

  “Unfortunately, I can’t. Because now she’s got me thinking.” He pushes from the desk, slowly stalking toward her. “Do you know how many people were aware of her location? How many were trusted with the knowledge of her return?”

  She keeps her shoulders rigid, not backing down. “I don’t know.”

  “One,” he growls. “I kept everything under wraps for this exact reason. Nobody was updated on where her parents lived. Nobody knew what town or suburb. Not even me. There was only one person who knew those whereabouts. Only one person who could be held responsible for what happened if what you’re claiming is true.”

  Shit.

  That one person is Benji.

  “Back off.” I move in front of Penny, blocking her from the man now livid from her accusations. “She’s still mourning the loss. It’s only natural to question what happened.”

  “What she’s questioning is my family. Your brother.”

  “She didn’t kill herself.” Penny raises her voice. “I know she didn’t.”

  Fuck.

  I turn to face her. “You need to stop. This isn’t the time or place, okay?”

  “Then when?” she pleads. “When’s the time and place for me to get answers? When can I be heard?” Mindlessness enters her tone and her eyes. “You don’t even believe me. I can see it on your face.”

  She’s losing her shit.

  Derailing.

  “Get out of here.” I jerk my head toward the hall. “Go take a warm shower. Calm down. Breathe.”

  “I’m not leaving.” She stands her ground. “Not until I have answers.”

  And those answers will only come from scrutinizing my brother. By throwing him under the fucking bus.

  “Penny, I understand what you’re going through, but you’ve gotta chill the fuck out.” I lightly grab the crook of her arm and start for the door. “Come on, I’ll run you a bath.”

  “No.”

  I tighten my grip as she attempts to break my hold.

  “Please, Luca.”

  I ignore her pleas as I tug her across the room. I’m almost prepared to haul her over my shoulder when I reach the threshold to the sound of thunderous footfalls barreling down the hall.

  Decker greets us on the other side of the doorway.

  He takes one look at me, his sister, then my grip on her arm and turns livid. “Get your fucking hands off her.”

  He doesn’t wait for my compliance. He launches. Fist first.

  20

  Penny

  Luca releases my arm, ducks, but doesn’t miss the impact. My brother’s fist pounds into the side of his face, the crack of flesh on flesh sickening.

  He’s knocked sideways, his head hitting the wall with a heavy thwack.

  He falls to the tile at the same time the apple rolls from my numb hand. I’m too stunned to move. The office erupts. Hunter and Sarah barrel past me. Keira curses.

  I don’t know what to do.

  Luca is on the floor, glaring at my brother, and I’m unsure whose side I should be on.

  “What the absolute fuck, Decker?” Hunter shoves Sebastian down the hall, out of view.

  “Why the hell did you do that?” Sarah yells.

  I remain silent. Keira does the same behind me, her wordless judgment scratching at the back of my neck.

  “This is just one of the many reasons people don’t run their mouth around here.” Cole’s tone is glib. “Making false statements only leads to trouble.”

  I glance over my shoulder, meeting his soulless eyes.

  “Opinions have no place here. Only facts.” He returns to his desk chair, seeming unfazed by Luca on the floor or the snarled aggression coming from Sebastian. “It’s in your best interest to remember that.”

  He doesn’t scare me. He’s nothing in comparison to his father. What concerns me is his connection to Luca. They’re family. Just like Benji, who I’m beginning to believe is a far more sinister man.

  I drag myself to the hall, ignoring the underlying threat as Hunter shoves my brother again, over and over, pushing him farther away.

  “Are you okay?” Sarah holds out a hand to Luca, his cheek dark pink and swelling, blood dripping from his nose.

  “Fucking perfect.” He ignores her offering and shoves to his feet, using the wall as leverage.

  He doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t even acknowledge my existence as he leans against the plaster to massage his temples.

  “How much does it hurt?” I reach for him, not sure what else to do, my fingers grazing his shoulder. I’ve seen that look on his face before—when he had a concussion, and migraines for days.

  “It’s nothing.” He scoffs. “That asshole can’t punch for shit.”

  My remorse builds, morphing and expanding, as his expression tightens with obvious agony.

  I want to help him. To fix what I caused. But I also can’t bring myself to apologize for attempting to clear up the misconceptions surrounding Abi’s death. They need to know.

  Everyone needs to know.

  She deserves the truth.

  “That punch is only a taste of what I’m going to do to you,” Sebastian yells. “You’re a fucking piece of shit, Luca.”

  “Shut your trap.” Hunt pushes him again. “The shit you just pulled was a low blow.”

  “The shit he’s pulling with my sister is lower. I can’t believe you all stood there and watched him manhandle her.”

  Hunter gives a harder shove, pushing my brother into the living room. The barrage of abuse doesn’t end once they’re out of view. Sebastian keeps yelling. Keeps threatening.

  The only thing that changes is the awkwardness settling around me. I stand before Sarah, her judgmental gaze fixed on me as Luca works his jaw from side to side.

  “Can I get you anything?” I ask. “Ice maybe?”

  “I’ll get some Advil.” Sarah turns on her heel and strides after her fiancé.

  The air around me thickens. The weight of obligation to my sisters wages war with my remorse. These people don’t understand me.

  They don’t see things the way I do.

  They’ll never realize the intuition that comes from living around evil men and constant tragedy. Either that, or they simply don’t care about Abi. They don’t want to hear about her at all.

  “You can stop staring at me. I’m fine.” Luca pushes from the wall and staggers toward our bedroom.

  I follow like a chastised puppy, walking a few steps behind until I pass the threshold where he stands in wait.

  He closes the door behind us, the sound of the clasping lock a definitive, isolating click.

  “Is that necessary?” I whisper.

  “You didn’t have to follow me in here.” He continues to the bed, his feet dragging as he turns to sit on the mattress.

  “I’m sorry he hit you.”

  “I don’t give a shit about that,” he mutters under his breath. “What I want to understand is why you’re throwing my brother under the bus.”

  “That’s not what I’m doing. I only wanted everyone to know Abi didn’t kill herself. I want someone else to care; is that too much to ask?”

  “What have I ever done to give you the impression I don’t fucking care?” he asks. “I care, Penny. About you. About Abi. About Tobias and your whole fucking posse. But there’s a way to have your voice heard and this isn’t it.”

  The disappointment in his eyes is a staggering punishment. I hate it so much.

  “I won’t apologize for what I said, Luc. I have all the evidence I need.”

  His gaze narrows. “So you’re telling me you think my brother is responsible? You think Benji played a part?”

  My throat tightens. “I don’t know.”

  “Are you serious?” He jerks back. “You’re trying to pin Abi’s death on my brother?”

  “No, I’m pinning it on Robert. I didn’t consider anything about your brother until Cole brought him up.”

  “And still you continued with the accusations. You realize speculati
on like this can get Benji killed, right? The mere possibility of betrayal could be enough for Torian to end his life.”

  I close my mouth. Swallow.

  “Answer me.” He keeps his voice low. “Explain what the hell is going on in that mind of yours.”

  “I don’t know.” I shake my head.

  There’s too much noise. Too many voices. Some of them tell me I’m right—Abi didn’t kill herself. Robert is responsible. Others suffocate me, laying blame at my feet, telling me I’m wrong, wrong, wrong. “I can’t explain how I feel. All I know is that I’m certain Robert killed her.”

  There’s more. So much more, but I don’t know how to tell him.

  “You don’t get it. If Robert killed her, it means Benji is involved. Or he fucked up.” He shoves his hands into his hair. “You heard Torian. Nobody else knew where she was. Not one single person had any idea where those women were.”

  “It’s not his fault if Robert followed them.”

  “From where? The airport? After they were hurried onto a private jet from Greece?” He shakes his head and winces with the movement. “You think Luther preempted his own death, arranged for a jet, and had Robert waiting here in Portland?”

  “Maybe Abi called someone. She could’ve told anyone she was going home.”

  “Benji wouldn’t have risked it. There’s no way he would’ve let that information get out.”

  “Then I don’t know.” I throw my arms up at my sides. “Maybe someone found them. Maybe some random person suspected something when they went for food, or gas, or whatever. Maybe Luther had a database of all the women he stole.”

  I’m clutching at straws. Scrambling.

  Luca grins, the tweak of lips unkind. “You think Luther had a database? You seriously think he documented his crimes for someone to find?”

  “No,” I admit. “He was too paranoid, but—”

  “You’re too paranoid,” he counters. “You’re losing your shit, Pen. You need to pull yourself together.”

  “And you’re complacent and dismissive. There are things you don’t know, Luca. Things I haven’t told you.”

  His eyes narrow. “What things?”

  I don’t want to say. Not now. Not after his heartfelt admission earlier.

  “Penny?” He shoves from the bed. “What things?”

  I lick my lips to ease the painful dryness. “I don’t want to cause more trouble between us.” I need to keep this to myself. Even Tobias knew not to announce his suspicions until he whispered them in my ear.

  “There’s no trouble between us, shorty. That’s not what this is.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “A learning curve.” He eats up the distance between us, the tight pull of his brows announcing the pain continuing to pummel him. “No matter what happens, I’m still protecting you with my life. Nothing changes that. There’s not one damn thing you could tell me to cause trouble.”

  “I could test that theory.” I could… but I don’t want to.

  “Let me prove myself to you.”

  I shake my head, unable to voice my deeper suspicions.

  “Come on, Pen. You know you can trust me.”

  I stare at him. At the conviction. The plea for understanding.

  The problem is, I believe him. I believe everything he says yet he can’t give me the same in return. “I recognize his voice, Luc.”

  “Whose?” He scrutinizes me.

  My heart thunders, each beat rampant. “Benji’s.” I swallow again, unable to get enough moisture as Luca frowns at me. “I heard him on the phone the day Abi died. At first, I thought he sounded familiar because his tone is a lot like yours. But that’s not it. I didn’t realize until Tobias said something that his voice was familiar because I’d heard him speaking to Luther.”

  “What did Tobias say?”

  “That the voice of Layla’s husband sounded like one of the men his baba spoke to all the time. That he hadn’t met your brother yet, but was worried he was a bad man.”

  He stiffens, his shoulders snapping rigid. “What conversations did you hear? What was discussed?”

  “I can’t remember.” I wrap my arms around my waist. “Tobias didn’t say, either. And I admit, I didn’t sense a bad vibe when I first heard him in Portland, but now things are getting messed up and I don’t know what to think.”

  Incrementally, his tension lessens. The rigidity fades as he cups my cheeks. “Do you hear what you’re saying? You have no basis for these accusations. Your head is filled with stress from trauma.”

  I pull away. “No. That’s not it.”

  His arms fall to his sides. “Yes, it is. Of course they spoke on the phone. Luther was his father-in-law. They were family. Benji is the parent to that asshole’s only granddaughter. It’s only natural you and Toby recognize his voice.”

  My breathing falters. “I knew that.”

  I knew, yet it slipped my mind. I knew, and still it didn’t make me back away from speculation.

  “You’re grasping at straws, shorty. And the worst part is that you don’t realize the trouble rumors like this can cause.”

  “No.” I’m not being irrational. This can’t be paranoia. “I never heard Luther talking to Layla or Keira. Only Benji.”

  “Luther was a man’s man. He had little time for the females in his family. Ask Torian’s sisters and they’ll tell you the same thing. Their father never cared to speak to them.”

  I continue to shake my head. “That might explain the voice recognition, but it doesn’t change Abi’s death.”

  Luca gives a sad smile. A placating, condescending curve of lips. “I get that you don’t want to believe she killed herself, even despite what she went through. But accusing people without plausible reason will only cause more bloodshed. I need you to trust me. I need you to understand that just like you know your sisters, I know my brother better than I know myself. He wouldn’t be involved in this. Not after what we lived through growing up. You have to start telling yourself Abi’s death was an accident.”

  “No.”

  “Someone has to be wrong, Pen. It’s either me, Abi’s parents, the police, and the medics. Or you, on your own, without proof.”

  The approach of footsteps carries from the hall and Luca turns away, knitting his hands behind his head as a light tap sounds against the wood.

  “I’ve got the Advil,” Sarah says. “Want me to leave it at the door?”

  “Yeah.” Luca begins to pace. “Thanks.”

  There’s the rattle of a pill bottle, retreating footsteps, then silence.

  Pained, punishing silence.

  I don’t like us being on different wavelengths. I hate the emotional distance resembling a chasm between us.

  “I know you think I’m crazy.” I clear the restriction from my throat. “Believe me, I’m sure I’d think the same if we switched places. But I can’t change the way I feel. It’s an instinct I refuse to ignore.”

  He sucks in a breath, letting it out slowly. “Then I’ll talk to him. I’ll get the answers you need to put your mind to rest.” His hands fall to his sides. “But in return, I need you to promise you won’t blurt shit out in front of Torian again. Words aren’t just words here. They’re ammunition. Next time you’ve got something eating at you, I need you to tell me privately, okay? Nobody else.”

  “Okay.” I grab his hand and entwine our fingers, yearning for the warm connection that comes when we touch. Even though he’s annoyed with me, the strength I gain from his presence is unmistakable. He’s like a shot of stability. “I’m sorry, Luc.”

  “Don’t be.” His thumb rubs in circles around my palm. “I just have to know these things. I can’t fix what I don’t know.”

  More footsteps trek down the hall.

  Another knock sounds.

  “Time’s up, fuckers.” Hunter’s voice carries from the other side of the door. “Big brother is about to go postal if you two don’t show your faces.”

  “We’ll be out in a minute.�
� Luca slowly tugs me forward, making me stumble into him. Within a bated breath his lips are on mine, the exquisite softness feeling like an apology.

  “It’s best if you don’t come with me,” he murmurs against my mouth. “Spend the time with Toby. Try to relax.”

  I attempt to retreat, hurt by the exclusion.

  “Don’t pull away from me.” He tightens his grip on my hand. “Let me fight this battle for you.”

  “There’s more than one.”

  “I can handle them.” He growls, oh, so protective and dominant. It’s hard not to believe him. “I know exactly what you want.”

  “I bet you don’t.” I tangle my hands in his shirt.

  What I want is more of this. The clear-headedness that only comes when we’re body to body. Chest to chest. Everything else fades when he’s close. The guilt. The pain. The sorrow. He wouldn’t have a clue of my desperation for more.

  He chuckles. “Believe me. I know exactly what you want, and it’s fucking hard to walk away.”

  He deepens the kiss, the vibrating rumble in his chest sinking into me.

  I cling to him. His fingers. His shirt.

  When we’re like this the rest of the world doesn’t matter.

  There’s no looming threat. No potential danger.

  There’s only me and him. Only protection and safety.

  “We’ll finish this another day.” He diverts his mouth to my jaw. My neck.

  I whimper as his lips brush the sensitive column of my throat. So soft. So sweet.

  Then all too soon, he steps back.

  That expression of pain still wrinkles his forehead. The swelling on his cheek has darkened.

  I sweep my fingers along the damage and hold his gaze to gauge his reaction. “Does your head hurt as much as it did in Greece?”

  “It’s just a headache. I’ll get over it.”

  “Would you tell me if it was more?”

  He smirks. “Would you overreact and panic?”

  Probably.

  Definitely.

  He scoffs out another chuckle. “I promise I’ll tell you if there’s something to worry about.”

  I nod, inching in to steal one last kiss. One last taste of clarity. I don’t want to let him go. I need a few more strengthening seconds.