Hunting Her Box Set

I frown, not taking my gaze off my captive as I try to read what’s going on in that mind of hers. “You told him that?”

“I told him to fuck off.” He shrugs. “It’s pretty much the same thing. Have you spoken to your FBI agent this morning?”

My FBI agent.

The question is a trigger.

Everything is a fucking trigger.

“No,” I grate. “She hasn’t been out of her room.”

“Does she know why she’s here?” He stretches out along the lounger, his hands behind his head.

I slowly close the Mac screen, biding my time to ease into a conversation I don’t want to participate in. “She knows enough. The finer details aren’t her concern.”

“Are you sure? She seems the type to want transparency. Especially when she sees you as nothing more than a criminal.”

“I am a criminal.”

“Yeah, you are, but she might attempt to trust you if she’s given more details than a vague reference to her being a witness.”

He listened to my conversation with her last night?

I’m not surprised. I expect him to have his finger on the pulse while we’re here. It’s his job. I just don’t appreciate knowing he’s been a fly on the wall when I’m alone with her. “You could hear us from your room?”

“Bits and pieces. I lipread some.”

“You’ve been on the surveillance feed.” It’s not a question, only a necessary purge of information that smashes to the forefront of my mind.

“I set my phone to receive movement notifications. Every time she rolled in her sleep, I made sure to check she wasn’t making her way into the hall to cause trouble.”

“And what about before that? When she was awake?” I stare at him, my heartbeat throbbing down my neck, pounding in my ears. “And this morning? Were you watching then, too?”

Did he watch her get dressed? Has he seen her naked?

Jesus fuck.

I want to hurt him.

With or without his answer, I itch to punch my knuckles through his face.

“By the time I finished in the kitchen last night, she was in bed with the light off.” He holds my gaze, his expression locked tight, as if sensing my desire to commit murder. “The same goes for this morning. She was asleep the whole time I checked on her. And once I got the notification you were moving around the house, I crashed, figuring you could keep watch on your own.”

His answer eases the rage seeping through my marrow. Slightly.

Is this jealousy?

Am I fucking jealous over the enemy?

“What’s going on with you?” His brows pull tight as he slides his arms down to his sides. “Is she getting in your head?”

Getting? No. She’s already burrowed all the way in, grinding against every nerve.

But I’m sick of his questions. I’m fucking tired of people thinking I need to justify my actions.

“Stay off the feed.” I keep my voice neutral. Level. Calm as fucking Larry. “Leave me in charge of it.”

“That’s no problem at all.” He doesn’t stop with the scrutiny. “But are you okay? This is some pretty heavy shit you have to deal—”

“Fuck off with the pep talk. I don’t need it.”

Movement nudges my peripheral vision, and I tilt my gaze to see Anissa standing in the open doorway leading outside, her stare pi

Dark hair frames her cheeks, and the sunburned skin she earned yesterday has turned to a healthy tan, making those green eyes all the more luminous.

I don’t speak.

I don’t move.

I don’t do anything capable of making her feel like I’m flaunting my control over her, despite wanting to do exactly that.

She steps onto the tile, still favoring one arm, which she holds closer to her side than the other as she walks forward.

“How did you drug me?” She stops at the end of the lounger to look down her nose at me.

Her question is multifaceted. I can see it in her eyes.

She wants to know if I’m capable of the truth. If I can be honest and refrain from messing with her head.

“I watched you,” she murmurs. “You didn’t put anything in my glass. I made sure of it. So was it something I touched or inhaled? You said you didn’t know I drank vodka.”

“I didn’t know.” I place the Mac on the ground and swivel my legs off the lounger, needing to tilt my head to meet her gaze. “Like I already told you, I guessed. That’s why I had all the bottles on the plane spiked. Except mine. I took a chance that you wouldn’t want to share my scotch.”

“And if I did?”

“I would’ve found another way.” I let a slow grin curve my lips. “Maybe I would’ve convinced you to come here without needing medicinal assistance.”

“And you would’ve crashed and burned. There’s no way I would’ve come here willingly.” She crosses her arms over her chest, attempting to shut me out.

I claim her need to ward me away as a small victory. A glimpse to her unease.

“I was joking.” I push to my feet. “The drugs were my only preparation.”

“Premeditation,” she clarifies.

“Tomato, tamato. I prefer to steer clear of terms used in a court—”

“What about the women?” She raises her voice, cutting me off. “The abduction victims back in Portland. Did you lie about them, too? Were you responsible for their disappearance?”

I sigh, yet again disappointed at her stubborn need to continuously burn me at the stake. The hours apart have only given her more ammunition.

“No, Nissa. I wasn’t responsible. An ex-con from Seattle had those women. Like I said, he was trying to impress my father in an attempt to be brought into the fold.”

“Had the women?” She latches onto the word, her eyes narrowing. “Where are they now?”

“Nothing gets by you, does it?”

“Answer the question,” she demands.

I snicker, only because it will piss her off even more.

Does it help with our situation? No.

Will it delay the necessary resolution? Yes.

But can I help it?

I’m not even going to pretend I have any control over my mouth when she’s around. I don’t know how to quit taunting her.

“You want us to work together.” She throws the words at me like an accusation. “You say I can’t go home unless I help you. Well, you need to help me first. Help me fucking understand.”

I glare, her fiery temperament invigorating me more than I’d like to admit.

“They’re safe,” I mutter. “I’d already made arrangements to secure their release before we left Portland.”

She stands a little taller, her breasts plumped above the shelf of her arms. “Prove it.”

Impatience becomes a living, breathing force inside my veins. I want to deny her. To shove my authority down her throat. But that won’t work in my favor.

“I’m going to leave you two alone.” Luca pushes to his feet. “I’ll be inside.”

“No.” She raises her voice. “Stay.”

His gaze flicks to me, requesting a response.

“It’s okay.” I shrug, faking a level of calm I’m far from feeling. “If she wants you here, you stay.”

I pull my cell from the back pocket of my jeans and scroll through my contacts to find Hunter’s number. I co

The call doesn’t last one full ring before Hunter is growling down the line. “Did your bitch boy rat on me?”

“He may have mentioned you reaching out,” I drawl.

“Well, if you’re going to ride me for telling him what he needs to hear, I guess it’s my turn to hang up.”

“Quit the theatrics. I need you to tell me what went down last night with Sayker.”

There’s a pause. A silent heartbeat.