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Decker
I rush down the hall, mentally preparing for battle, and peek out the glass panels of the front door.
“Who is it?” Keira’s whisper travels from somewhere close.
“Peanut,” I grate, “for once in your life will you listen to me and go hide.”
“No.” She tiptoes toward me, pulling a fresh shirt over her head as she approaches in a pair of baggy shorts that hang from her slim hips. “I need to know what’s going on.”
I sigh and return my focus outside. “There’s a car coming up the drive.”
It’s a vehicle I don’t recognize, but I can already identify the stocky build of the man behind the wheel.
“Who is it?”
“Hunter.” He’s the only person who could’ve figured out where I am, and he’s too ego-driven to have given the information to Torian. My best buddy will want to be the victor in this situation.
She creeps up behind me, wrapping her arms around my waist. “What will he do?”
That list is too fucking long to contemplate. “Who knows.”
He won’t kill me in front of Keira. At least I hope not. I need to start praying that he’s willing to take me back to Portland for Cole to deal with. That way, I’ll have a chance to escape on route.
“Sebastian…” She clings closer, her warmth touching every part of me. “I’m scared.”
“You’ve got nothing to worry about. He’s here to take you home. It’s me he’s after.”
“That’s why I’m scared,” she murmurs.
I want to believe her. God, how I want to believe her, but there’s still the slightest twinge of doubt gnawing its way through my chest. “It’ll be okay. Stay inside. Hide at the back of the house.”
I grip the knob and turn, only to be stopped when she places her hand on mine.
“I’m not leaving you.” She squeezes in front of me, her back to the door, her chest brushing against mine. “I know you doubt me. I can hear it in your voice. But I’m here, Sebastian. I’m right where I want to be.”
“In the line of fire?”
“If that’s what it comes down to, then yes.” She spins, yanks open the door, and slides outside.
I wait for her to flee. To escape. To run to the man who pummeled my body to a pulp mere hours ago.
She doesn’t.
She flicks her gaze between the black Mercedes and the house, making sure she positions herself between us both.
“Jesus Christ.” She’s suicidal. I follow her outside, and she continues to keep me as her shadow, mimicking each of my steps to ensure I stay behind her. “Get out of my way, tiger.”
“No. I’m not going to let them hurt you.”
The car inches into the yard and circles to the front of the house. It’s then I notice Hunt isn’t alone. His trusty sidekick, Sarah, is in the passenger seat, her face impassive as they pull to a stop.
“Move.” I’m trying like hell to be patient, but having her in front of me feels beyond wrong. I want her at my back. I’m the one who needs to protect her.
She grabs my left hand and wraps it around her stomach, her touch comforting and soft. Then she yanks at my right, raising the gun to aim it toward her face.
“Fucking hell.” I pull away. “I’m not playing you as my hostage.”
“Please.” She turns to me, her eyes pleading. “He’s going to kill you.”
“I can take care of myself. All you’re doing is making this worse by distracting me.” I drag her behind me, ignoring her scrambling, scratching protests as I shield her with my body. “Or maybe that’s the plan.” I inflict the emotional blow in the hopes of diverting her attention.
It works.
She stops protesting, her pain at my accusation taking over her features as she blinks those baby blues my way. “You’ll never trust me again, will you?”
“How ‘bout I trust that you’re going to stay behind me and keep quiet while I handle this?”
She presses her lips tight.
I don’t wait for another response. I swing around to face our visitors as they climb from the car, both of them scowling at me, no guns drawn.
Sarah is the first to step away from the vehicle, which is surprising. I never would’ve imagined Hunt would let her breathe without permission in a situation like this, let alone allow her to walk toward me.
They know I’m armed. The weapon may be rested at my side, but despite my laidback stance, they both have to realize I’ll fire shots to lay cover for an escape. And yet she approaches, her stride determined, her pinched expression increasing, while he stays at the driver’s side door.
“What do we do?” Keira’s question is barely audible as I stand my ground.
I don’t move. Don’t even flinch.
Sarah holds my gaze as she reaches the steps, and I start to wonder if she’s the decoy to distract me from Hunter’s kill shot.
“We went through your shit,” she says in greeting.
“I figured as much. You wouldn’t have found me otherwise.” I clear my throat, trying to ignore the build of adrenaline. “Is my place still standing?”
She shrugs. “It’s definitely not in the same state as when we arrived.”
I’d probably give a shit if I had any possibility of returning home. But at the moment, I’m not convinced they’ll let me make it through the day.
The thing that hurts, though, is what they would’ve done to all my research. All those years of searching. All those faces of i
She takes the first step, still scowling, but those harsh eyes are different. They’re glazed. Glistening. Her nose scrunches as she takes another step, and another, coming to stand a foot away.
Regret hangs heavy in her expression, making me anxious as all fuck. Hunter knows I’d never hurt her. I couldn’t. Maybe that’s the beauty of their plan. He’s letting her take me down effortlessly.
“You should’ve told me,” she snarls. “I would’ve helped.”
I stare at her. At the emotion building in her features, the trembling lips, the liquid building in her eyes. I feel heavy—my chest, my limbs, my soul. Everything weighs me down under her anger.
I frown. “I don’t understand.”
“If I would’ve known what they were capable of, I would’ve stood by you, helping every step of the way.” She sniffs, her chin hitching slightly. “I would’ve found a way to kill everyone involved. Every single one of them, Decker.”
Keira sucks in a breath, and from my peripheral vision I see her stiffen. Sarah is talking about Keira’s family. Her father. Her uncle. Possibly her brother. No matter what they’re capable of, those words would be hard to hear when spoken from someone you considered a friend.
“Why are you here?” I ask.
“I want to show my support.”
I—singular. There’s no ‘we’ or ‘us’ or mention of Hunter.
“You’re not here to kick my ass for being the informant?”
The anger slowly fades into a sly grin. “Actually, I’m strangely proud of your deceptive ways. I never would’ve thought you were smart enough to pull this off.”
“Obviously, I’m not. Look where we are.”
“You had me fooled.”
I’m not convinced. This has to be an act. A scheme. But God knows why they’re dragging out the end game. Hunt doesn’t usually like to fuck with his prey. “Thanks?”
She steps forward. “Don’t mention it. Now, give me a hug, you manipulative prick. I can’t believe what you’ve been going through without me knowing.”
She casts her arms wide, and I brace for an attack.
Sarah doesn’t hug.
Ever.
This woman is the spokesperson for emotional detachment, so it’s more than likely she’s going to stab a knife into my back. And yet, I oddly crave the co