Page 32 of Hunted Obsession

“What is going on?” Hale asks.

Merrick inhales a deep breath, holds it for a moment, then lets it out slowly. “Tomorrow, after your little family dinner get-together, is the exchange. Ravet is going to be at the Willow Club.”

“Tomorrow?” I ask.

“Tomorrow,” he confirms.

“That gives us dick for time,” Boden growls.

He’s right. It doesn’t give us much, but I’m also on the inside of all of this, so at least there is that. Pressing my lips together, I rock back on my heels as I shove my hands in my pockets.

“What do we do?” I ask.

“We do nothing,” Merrick says. “You are going to go to that dinner, wired.”

I arch a brow. I can’t help but wonder if that’s the wisest decision we’ve ever made. Sure, we have ways of hiding all of that shit. Asher will probably never see it, even if he checked me, which I doubt he will.

But there is something a bit unnerving about it. This isn’t just a regular surveillance job. This is my past… our past, coming back. We want vengeance more than anything in this life, and if we fuck this up, it could be another ten years before we’re able to have an opportunity like this again.

If I fuck this up, I fuck my brothers up. Everything is riding on this, including healing. Something that all six of us need. As the days have gone by, I realize now more than ever that I need this in order to move on with my life—with Lucille.

She is the one who I was always meant to have as my own. I was just too fucked up to keep her all those years ago. She’s back, and I am going to ensure that she never leaves my side and, more importantly, my bed ever again.

“And you guys?” I ask.

Merrick smiles. “Thought you would never ask. I was thinking about this while everyone was coming down here. I think we’ll keep someone here to watch the club and you on a split screen. Each one will be recording as it goes down so we have evidence of whatever we need.”

Hale lifts his hand. “I’ll stay here.”

I’m surprised because he is, without a doubt, someone who prefers to be in the field. He flicks his attention to meet mine, no doubt sensing my gaze on him, and jerks his chin in my direction before he speaks.

“Don’t want to be anywhere near him. I don’t think I could control myself. Being here, away from him, will be the best place for me and us.”

I cannot only understand that, but I can respect it as well. With Hale and me not being part of the rest of the plan, we takea step back and allow the men to hatch whatever it is that they have in mind. I know I need to leave soon. I need one more night of peace before this shit explodes.

And I know where my peace is.

There can only be one place.

LUCILLE

Standing at the bar,I look coyly over my shoulder, batting my lashes at the man beside me. He’s not my type, not in the slightest. Even if I didn’t hate his sister, he still wouldn’t be for me. It’s not that he’s ugly or anything because he’s not.

In fact, he’s impeccably dressed and groomed, better than I could ever be. Which is a turnoff. I want a little rugged when it comes to men.

He glances over at me but doesn’t see me. The man looks right through me. A few years ago, that would probably be a trait that I would find attractive. And maybe if it were someone like Theron, my panties would be melted. But I think it’s more the man and not necessarily the cockiness that is unattractive to me.

I flick my gaze down to the drink in his hand. Martini, which kind of looks silly in his large hand. But who am I to judge? Slowly, I lift my gaze up to meet his. He arches a brow, lifts his drink to his lips, and takes a sip.

I imagine this man is used to women falling all over him. He’s wearing an outfit that costs more than a month’s worth of rent, and he’s good-looking. I don’t do that, though. As I sit here attempting to flirt with him, all I can think about is how I don’t want to be here.

Honestly, I would rather be anywhere else. I don’t want to play with this guy. It seemed like a really good idea at the time,but it doesn’t anymore. I slide off my stool, leave my drink on the bar, and head to the bathroom.

After using the restroom, I wash my hands and take in my appearance. I don’t like what I see. My makeup is too heavy, and my hair teased too much. My dress is too low-cut, too tight, and definitely too short.

This is not me, not in the slightest.

Turning around, I inhale a deep breath and head out of the bathroom. As I make my way through the bar, I ignore anyone and everything around me. I am going home. I’m going to strip this shit off my face and take a long hot shower, then I’m going to pour myself into bed and rest in hopes of a new plan coming to me.

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