Hunting Her Box Set

9

Decker

I wake up in a dark room, the furniture barely recognizable through the shadows. It takes a few seconds to blink away the lethargy and remember where I am—with Keira, in the safe house, secluded from the rest of the world.

I groan and reach my hands above my head to stretch my tired muscles. I expect to hear a sleepy response from her in return.

Nothing comes.

She’s no longer curled into me.

“Keira?” I reach across her side of the mattress. It’s empty. Cold.

I groan again, this time in a

I throw back the covers and slide from the bed, grabbing my phone from between the pillows before I stalk for the hall. The house is dead. Not a breath of life to fill the emptiness.

“Keira?” My voice fractures the silence, my bare feet slapping against tile.

I enter the living room and find no sign of her. Everything is in its place—the cushions on the sofa, the television remote, the chairs at the dining table.

“Keira?” I speak louder, the edge of panic creeping into my tone.

I walk to the garage where Torian’s Porsche lies in wait. Then I stalk to the laundry, and the bedrooms along the hall, my pulse increasing as I yank open doors and slam them shut again.

I make my way through every square inch of the house, not wanting to believe she’s gone even though it’s crystal fucking clear.

She’s not here.

She’s not anywhere.

Panic squeezes at my ribs, the pain building.

"Keira?" I hold my breath waiting for a reply.

Nothing.

Not a fucking thing.

“Fuck.” I run back to the bedroom to retrieve my gun from the nightstand drawer and struggle not to lose my shit.

She’s gone. But how? Where?

I wouldn’t have slept through someone breaking in. If she’d been attacked, I would’ve heard it.

Adrenaline rushes through my veins. Fear curdles in my gut.

Every inch of me pulses with the need to fight, yet I don’t even know my opponent. “Keira.”

I sprint for the back door, needing to search the yard, and find the deadbolt already unlocked.

Ice-cold dread fills my reality. I picture her broken body. Bloodied. Bruised. Dead. It’s all I can see. I can even smell it—the tainted scent of death and decay.

No.

I stumble outside, my finger poised to dial Hunter’s number, when I hear something. The faintest voice. I swing around, aiming my gun on a bright glow in the back corner of the yard. A white light. The illumination of a phone.

“Keira?”

Murmured words hit my ears. The soft utterance of “I’ve gotta go” turning my blood to lava.

I run toward her, my weapon still drawn, my eyes squinted through the dim moonlight. “What the hell are you doing out here?” My harsh tone purges the toxic panic from my system. “Are you alone?”

She jerks back, the cell clutched in her left hand. “Yes. Christ. Lower the goddamn gun.”

My throat threatens to close. My limbs fucking shake. My head is a pounding mess of turbulence, and I still can’t come to grips with her standing before me. Whole. Entirely unscathed. And glaring back at me like I’m the one in the wrong.

I thought I’d lost her. I thought I’d never see her again.

“Where did you get the fucking phone?” I lower the gun and take a menacing step forward, my hands trembling with the need to grab her to make sure she’s real.

“Calm down.” She drops her arms to her sides. “I found it in my father’s office."

“Calm down? Calm the fuck down? Do you know how scared I was when I couldn’t find you?” My heartrate lessens, but the anger lives on. I can’t get rid of it. “I’ve been searching the fucking house. I’ve been yelling your fucking name.”

“I sat out in the sun all afternoon. I wanted some fresh air. Then night fell, and it was just as beaut—”

“I don’t want to hear it.” I grind my teeth, holding in another harsh reply that’s destined only to prolong the argument. I count out the seconds. Fight against the rage. Then give up and grab the crook of her arm. “Get inside.”

“Excuse me?” She yanks away from my hold. “Do you know who the hell you’re talking to?”

I bark out a venomous laugh. “Oh, I know, princess. I fucking know. It’s not like a Torian ever lets anyone forget.”

Her face falls and slowly she pulls herself together, squaring her shoulders, lifting her chin. “You’re overreacting.”

“Tell that to the prick who put forty-seven bullets in the ceiling of your family’s restaurant. No one has a clue who ordered the attack. For all you know, someone could’ve put a tracker on your brother’s car. They could be watching you right now.”

She glances over her shoulder, my words sinking in as she scans the darkness.

“It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?” I clench my fists. I grind my teeth. I do everything and anything to try to lessen my insanity. “It was a fucking stupid move, Keira. You should know better.”

She shakes her head and stares at me in confusion. For long moments all I can hear are my panted exhales and her non-verbal judgement. It’s loud. So fucking loud.

“Why are you being such an asshole?”

“I’m the asshole?” I point the barrel of the gun at my chest. “I’m the bad guy in this situation?” I throw my arms in the air and let them fall to my sides. “My apologies for caring. I’ll try harder not to give a shit in the future.”

I have two options—sling her over my shoulder and carry her stupid ass inside, or walk away and calm down in private.

Well, both aren’t really options.

One is a desire, the other is a fucking necessity.

It takes all my effort to stalk toward the house and leave her standing on her own. But I’m not in a good enough place to walk inside without slamming the fucking door behind me.

Fuck this shit.

Fuck it.

I storm into the kitchen, slam my gun and phone onto the counter, and hunch over as I grip the cold marble in a white-knuckled grip.

I need to pull myself together. I’m overreacting. And I can’t fucking deny the insanity isn’t merely about Keira.

I’ve been here before.

I’ve drowned in fear.

I’ve suffocated under panic.

This is a warped kind of déjà vu I can’t get away from quick enough. I struggle to fight the need to pummel my fist into something.

I’d fallen asleep beside her. I probably even had a smile on my face. Then I woke up in a nightmare I hadn’t prepared for. I’d been on a fucking high. I’d been wi

Then…this.

I shove from the counter and yank open the fridge to take out the lasagna we picked up from the diner. I remove the meal from the plastic container, reheat it, then drop my plate to clatter on the dining table as I take a seat and start feeding my face.

I ignore Keira. I pretend my focus isn’t entirely on my peripheral vision which is stalking the darkness of the back yard as I fork food into my mouth. I don’t even flinch as the sensor light illuminates the back deck.

She walks forward, coming to sit on a wooden lounge chair and wrapping herself in a blanket.

It’s cold out there. I’d barely felt it when I stalked outside in my boxers, but her lithe body would be chilled all over. And now I feel fucking guilty because she’s obviously keeping her distance from the asshole hiding out inside.