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“What did she tell Torian?” Hunt makes a dramatic show of flinging out a chair and sinking onto it. “I assume it wasn’t anything dramatic, seeing as though you ran out there and punished her by shoving your tongue down her throat.”
“You fixate on my love life way too much,” I taunt. “Not gettin’ enough at home, big guy?”
“I get plenty,” he snarls. “At least I did until you fucked up my schedule.”
“A well deserved punishment for trying to gouge my eyes out, if you ask me.”
“You threw the rule book out the window when you started the five-year-old shin kicking.”
“Yeah? What rules are there when it comes to my sister getting raped and tortured?”
He sobers, the bitterness fading from his expression. He lowers his focus to the table, remaining quiet through the thickening discomfort.
“Keira told Torian she’s pregnant,” I say to break the silence.
“What?” His head snaps up. “Are you serious?”
“Unfortunately.” I slide my plate to the center of the table. “She thinks it will stop him from blowing my brains out.”
“Is it true?”
“No.” I push from my seat and go to the kitchen. “At least that’s what she says.”
“You can’t blame me for asking. You’re not known for doing the smartest shit.”
“Thanks.” I pull open the fridge and ignore the fresh insult. “Want a beer?”
“Yeah.”
I walk back to the table and slide a can toward him. “We need to figure out this plan before Keira gets carried away with ideas of her own vigilante justice. We can give her something basic to do. Surveillance or some shit. Something to keep her busy and feel like she’s played a pivotal role.”
Hunt stares at me with an a
“What?”
He shrugs. “Nothin’.”
“No, it’s definitely something. You’re looking at me as if you know more than I do.”
“I know determined women, that’s all.”
“You know one determined, psychotic woman. Keira’s nothing like Sarah.”
“Maybe not.” He takes a large gulp of beer. “But if Richard laid hands on her, shouldn’t she have the right to fuck him up on her own terms?”
“You weren’t with her after the shooting. You don’t know how something like this would stick with her. She’ll be eaten alive with remorse, regardless of how he deserves to rot in hell.”
“Or she could be eaten alive with regret if she doesn’t do it herself.”
No. I don’t believe that would happen.
She’s got a big heart. She’s not capable of murder. Not with her own hands.
“Look,” Hunt grates. “I agree with you. I don’t think she should be anywhere near him when he takes his last breath. But I want you to think about what she’s missing out on before you take the option away from her.”
“I’ve thought about it. I don’t need to fixate on it anymore.”
He shrugs. “Okay, then we make sure she knows it’s not a possibility.”
“We?” I raise a brow. “Are Hunt and Deck back together again, kickin’ it like old times?”
He glares. “Don’t push your luck, motherfucker.”
I chuckle but take the warning like it’s a death threat.
I don’t push. Not at all.
I work my ass off to keep a level conversation sprinkled with sarcastic insults and blatant contempt. Just like the good ol’ days.
We mutter murderous ideas at each other while we finish the sandwiches. We work out a plan for Richard, and Luther, and also that fucker who’s blackmailing her. We’ll knock them off one by one. Strategically. Quietly. Without a single lead weaving its way back to us.
“Keira wants to drive back tonight.” I finish off another beer and throw the can across the kitchen, scoring a three-pointer in the sink. “I’m going to give her the rest of the afternoon to cool off and talk to her about the plan in the car. Even if we leave soon, we won’t arrive until late. Hopefully, she’ll be too tired to argue.”
“Good luck with that.”
I glance toward the porch, no longer able to ignore my need to lay eyes on her. “They’ve been out there for a long time.”
“That’s because neither one of them wants to be near us.”
I push from my chair and walk to the back door, not seeing a soul in sight. “They’re still out front.”
Sarah’s plate rests on the railing, a half-eaten sandwich sitting in the sun. It’s quiet. Everything is detached, devoid and bare. But fu
Despite his thick layers of hatred, I’m grateful for his willingness to talk. It’s more than I deserve. But it doesn’t stop me wanting more.
His understanding would go a long way right about now.
The briefest flicker of empathy is all I ask.
“Do you plan on finishing me off after all this is done?” I keep my focus outside, not willing to betray my feelings on the subject.
“I haven’t decided.”
I nod, appreciating the honesty.
“Do you think you’ve got the balls to kick my ass again?” he asks.
“Apparently, I didn’t kick your ass. I’ve been told you let me win.”
He huffs out a derisive laugh. “You won, asshole. I was too surprised to know what to do.”
My skin prickles, my senses unfamiliar with his thinly veiled compliment. “Surprised at the betrayal? Or—”
“You being an informant is beyond surprising. That shit falls into a category above and beyond. But I had a few hours to come to terms with it before we got to that barn. What threw me off was your ability to pack a punch. I guess I don’t know shit when it comes to you.”
Maybe there’s a glimpse of truth in what Sarah told me earlier. I guess Hunt could be a hard man filled with gooey softness after all.
“I did it for my sister.”
“I know,” he grates, as if deliberately trying to harden up the conversation.
“And I wouldn’t change a thing. Apart from getting my ass exposed.”
“You’re not exposed. Not entirely. We could still find a way to get her back.”
“No. It’s too late.” I wince through the tightening in my throat. “I found out a few weeks ago that she’s gone. It was Murphy’s fucking Law that Torian finally brings me into the fold, then days later I get news that they’ve found her DNA in a shallow grave.”
That dreaded, uncomfortable silence creeps back in and makes itself at home for long seconds.
“That’s tough.” Hunt’s words are measured. Gentle. “I’m sorry.”
I frown, battling the feels like they’re waging war against me. “Yeah, well, the good news is that I’m not going to have to grieve for long. You’re going to take care of that shit by putting me six feet under.”
“I’m not going to kill you, asshole. It’s just bullshit that you didn’t tell me in the first place.”
“That was never an option and you know it. You’re loyal to Torian. You would’ve gu
“I was fucking loyal to you, too, you piece of shit,” he seethes. “More fucking loyal than you were to me.”
“And how would I have broached that conversation, Hunt?” I swing away from the door and glare at him. “There’s no rulebook for this shit.”
“We’ve worked together a long time. There was a lot of opportunity for you to open your fucking mouth and sing to me instead of chirping like a fucking canary to the Feds.”
My lip curls as I hold in a snarl.
The judgmental prick has no idea how I’ve battled keeping my secrets from him. He doesn’t know what I’ve been through.
There are a thousand possibilities that could’ve, should’ve, and would’ve happened with each decision I made. I had to come to terms with my actions. I can’t go back and change any of them.
“What’s done is done.” I walk toward the table and shove my chair into place. “And I’m sick of wasting more time waiting on the girls to finish their make-up session. I’m going to go drag them back in here.”