Hunting Her Box Set

“Then it isn’t a good idea to keep circling the skies.” His brow remains pinched. “Why don’t we land and get a bite to eat? We’ve only got snacks onboard.”

“No. I’m fine. Honestly.” I crack the lid and drink the water, wiping my hand over my mouth when I finish. “Where were we?”

I need to concentrate on why I’m here.

This isn’t an exercise in growing numb to Cole’s monstrous influence. He’s still a heinous criminal.

He leans back in his seat, eyeing me with fatherly worry. It’s a

It’s fake, Anissa.

Fake. Fake. Fake.

“Do you have a name for this person who’s trying to impress your father?” I take another gulp and another, impatiently waiting for the water to wash away the liquor’s effects. “Do you have any proof?”

“I have everything you need. I even have an address of where he’s keeping his victims.”

“What?” The question bursts free, sounding more like an accusation. “You know where they are, yet we’re up here talking instead of taking action? Why didn’t you phone it in to the authorities?”

“I need to know you will hold up your end of the deal first.”

“My end?” My vision blurs, his face growing cloudy.

I’m drunk. Seriously smashed.

It’s fucking embarrassing.

I chug more water, hoping it will clear the confusion, but my sight doesn’t improve.

“I need you to clear the stigma around my name. I’m not involved in this, and neither is my father. That needs to be noted and the information shared. I don’t want this sex-trafficking bullshit associated with me a moment longer.”

I frown. “But your father is guilty.”

I unclasp my belt in a vain attempt to help ease the overwhelming discomfort. I feel wrong. My limbs are heavy. My head’s a foggy mess. I can barely hold on to the topic of conversation. It keeps slipping away, like sand through my fingers.

“We need to land. I have to call this in.” I place the bottle down beside me and push from my seat, intent on walking to the cockpit, when the jet takes a nosedive.

I lunge for the headrest, clinging tight with the sudden descent.

I struggle to battle the swirl and fight from passing out. But when I glance at Cole, he looks at me as if I’m insane. He’s not gripping the armrests or staring in panic. From what I can see through the blur, he’s relaxed. Calm. In control.

The jet isn’t spi

It’s me.

All me.

I fight against the darkness and make myself concentrate. I pull together the only thoughts I can cling to—the alcohol, the sudden insanity.

This shouldn’t be happening.

I squint through muddled vision and stare at Cole.

“What did you do?” I whisper the accusation as I struggle to make out his features.

Lazy assurance blinks back at me, his gentle expression transforming into a smug grin that robs me of any comfort.

“You,” I seethe. “You drugged me.”

Oh, God.

I cling tighter to the seat as he stands, his nearness increasing the rapid sway of my head.

I fight to understand. I struggle and snatch for clarity yet I can’t grasp hold. Everything is a riddle. A convoluted game.

I poured the first drink. I watched him like a hawk with the second.

He didn’t slip anything into my glass. I know he didn’t.

I fucking know.

“It’s okay.” He grasps my wrist.

I slap at him, trying to bat away the contact, and fail miserably.

Every move I make takes the effort of a marathon. My co-ordination is off. I struggle to lift my arms, move my legs, keep any type of focus.

“You son of a bitch.” I turn toward the cockpit and stumble forward. “Help me… Help.”

“It’s too late for that.”

No. No. No.

I shake my head and it increases the turmoil. I sway with the movement. Stumble some more.

Holy shit, I’m in trouble.

I should be scared. I should be fucking petrified. Instead, I’m consumed with blinding rage.

I continue to fight against his hold, unable to see, barely able to think. “Don’t touch me.”

My voice grows hollow, barely recognizable. I’m not sure I even have the energy to yell.

I bump into things. I hit my knee, my thigh, while Cole’s grip remains gentle on my arm.

There’s no vision at all now, only the rampant thump of my heart in my ears and so much anger.

“Sit back down, Nissa.” His words haunt me, echoing over my pulse. “Don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.”

I fling out a hand, and it co

Muscle.

Tightness wraps around my wrists and I’m dragged, pulled against something warm.

I attempt to fight. In my mind, I’m battling the enemy with all my might, but in reality, I’m not sure I even move.

I can’t.

My head droops against his chest. I can smell him. Can scent the dizzying masculinity of his cologne. “Fuck you.”

“Shh.” His breath caresses my cheek. “Give in, little fox.” His arms wrap around me, holding me close. “Stop fighting.”

“No,” I mumble, my lips numb. “You’re going to...”

The words don’t come. I hear them, think them, but they don’t leave my mind. They’re stuck in the growing darkness, clambering to break free.

I want him to know how much he will regret this.

He’s going to pay… But the heaviness… The encroaching shadows.

I collapse, falling into his hold, succumbing to obscurity.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs in my ear. “I’ve got you.”