Hunting Her Box Set

Torian

Luca eyes me from the sofa, his stare holding a hint of judgment. “How long are you going to keep her outside? There’s no fresh water out there, and she’s been in the sun all day.”

“Keep her?” I continue to cut the fruit housekeeping stocked in the fridge. “The only thing keeping her outside is her stubborn pride.”

“You sure she’s not scared?”

I scoff. “That woman wouldn’t feel fear if it bit her on the ass.”

“And you’re not worried she’ll do something stupid?”

“Not at all. What’s she going to do? Build a raft and paddle her way off the island?”

He holds up his hands in surrender. “It’s just getting dark, that’s all.”

I’m well aware.

I’ve waited all day to speak to her. I’ve deliberately given her space. I wanted her to have time to think. I also needed my own breathing room.

This morning didn’t go to plan.

Luca was meant to be here before she woke up. I wanted the island contained. Free from the possibility of escape.

The confrontation with the boat driver shouldn’t have happened.

It was neither predicted nor appreciated.

I’d walked outside to check on her after Luca updated me on the situation, only to find a gun pointed at her head. Her life whittled down to the hair trigger of a simple ferry man.

It took all my restraint to watch the interaction play out, my hands clenched at my sides, my jaw wired shut.

Common sense demands nobody would dare kill a woman of mine, captive or not, but common fucking sense seems to be in short supply these days.

“In half an hour, it’s going to be pitch black out there,” Luca adds. “And if you do finally decide to search her out, it’s going to be the prime opportunity for a woman like that to do a surprise shank attack.”

A woman like that—determined, vindictive, strong.

“I’m well aware.” I finish slicing the watermelon and place it on a plate beside nectarines, grapes, and cherries, then grab a bottle of water from the fridge. She’s spent too long without food and water. And with or without Luca’s prodding, I had every intention of going out to face her as soon as I’d finished preparing her something to eat.

I palm the filled plate and place the bottle under my arm, then start for the open doors.

“You’re going?” he asks.

I don’t answer. Luca’s unhealthy obsession with preparation needs to be worn down. He doesn’t always have to know what I’m doing.

He sits up straight. “If you’re not back in an hour, I’ll come rescue you.”

“Don’t bother. If she outsmarts me, she deserves to get away with it.”

He doesn’t respond, neither confirming or denying the instruction.

It’s so he can claim ignorance later if he does have to rush to my aid.

His loyalty has recently stretched far beyond anything given from my other men, even though everyone in my employ is impeccably devoted. I think he’s been waiting for something to focus on since his discharge from the SEALs, and thankfully, me and my family became his distraction. He’s becoming an asset. A dedicated soldier.

I walk outside, around the pool area, right up to the manicured hedge used as a makeshift boundary to the yard, and scope out the desolate island.

There’s no sign of life.

She’s not on the pier or along the shore as far as the eye can see. She could be on the other side of the house, but I doubt it.

I’ll bet her hiding place is among the only group of trees straight ahead. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d monkey-d her way up one of them, determined to stay out of reach.

I slip through a break in the hedge and walk through tall grass, the long strands whipping at my jeans in the breeze. The wide trunks and billowing branches provide a secluded canopy out here—the perfect shelter. Or an ideal base camp for war.

I’m a few feet from the boundary of trees when I hear a nearby rustle of undergrowth. Bingo. She’s here. And hopefully not about to swing from a vine to ruin the fruit platter I spent way too long creating.

“I come in peace.” I hold the plate up with one hand and the bottle of water high in the other.

More rustling sounds, then the snap of a twig.

“I’ve got food.” I take another step and another. “You need to eat.”

There’s no response. I guess I don’t expect one. Not if it isn’t violent.

I reach the first tree and peer around to see what’s hidden inside the circular canopy. I don’t react at the sight of her standing with her back to one of the trunks, her body in a fighting stance, a sharpened stick clutched in her fist.

I don’t allow myself the luxury of an opinion. I’m not going to fixate on the tangled mess of her short, dark hair. Or the gentle glow of her skin that says she’s spent too much time in the sun.

I’m not going to acknowledge how impressed I am at the pile of makeshift weapons at her feet, the sharpened branches resting into a subtle pyramid. And I’m definitely not going to be a

I’m nothing.

I can’t mess with her anymore. Things have changed.

“Drop the weapon, little fox. The chances of you succeeding are slim to none. But the likelihood I’ll retaliate is one-hundred percent.”

“Slim to none?” She quirks a brow. “I can deal with those odds.”

I clamp my lips shut, determined not to grin, and throw the bottle of water at her feet. “Drink.”

She scoffs. “And be drugged again? No, thank you.”

“There’s no drugs. It’s time to move forward.”

She doesn’t budge, remaining in her battle position, slowly twisting her stabbing stick between the fingers of her right hand.

“Okay. I see you’re reluctant to trust.” I hold up my free hand, solemnly vowing my surrender. “That’s understandable. But why don’t you sit for a while and give me the chance to explain?”

“If you think I’ll believe your words will ever hold any truth, you’re delusional. Have you heard the story of the boy who cried wolf?”

“Yes, I’m familiar.”

“Then you’ll also be familiar with what happens to that little fucker.” Her words are vicious, snapped between fierce lips. “And do you know what else, Cole?”

I keep my mouth under control, fucking determined not to smirk. There’s something invigorating about her. Something in her violent energy that makes me burn. “What, Nissa?”

“He deserved it. And you will, too.”

“When I get eaten by a wolf?”

“You are the wolf,” she grates. “But you’ll get what you deserve. I have no doubt.”

I raise my brows, impressed at yet another new level to her anger. She’s a feisty little thing. “Are you finished with the fairy-tales?”

“Fuck you.”

I can’t help it. A grin breaks free. “I’ll take that as confirmation.”

I glance around, searching for a place to sit—a rock, a ledge, something—because I have a strange feeling we’re going to be stuck in a verbal sparring match for quite some time. “Don’t go postal on me, but I’m going to come a little closer to put this plate down near your feet. I’d prefer if you didn’t try to stab me in the jugular.”

“I’d prefer if you crawled into a hole and died.” She shrugs. “I don’t think either of us are going to get what we want.”

I chuckle. It can’t be helped. “You’re always filled with spirit, aren’t you, Niss?”

“And you’re always filled with sh—”

“Okay. Enough.” I raise my voice, demanding control. “You need to eat.” I take a step forward.

“Don’t bother.” She holds her weapon higher. “I’m not going to consume anything you’ve prepared. I’ve already learned from that mistake.”