Page 22 of Hunted Vengeance

The drive back to the hotel should only take five minutes, but since it’s New York, it takes forty-five. Once we’ve dropped the car off at valet, gone upstairs, and ordered room service, I pour myself a drink and let Boden get his shit done.

I want to know about Adriano. I want to know what the fuck he’s messing with. I don’t know why it didn’t hit me before that he could be involved in something other than possibly drugs, arms, and prostitution. But whatever that was, who those three people were, they were not drugs, sex, or guns.

They were different.

Room service arrives, and I deliver Boden his meal in his bedroom, but he tells me to wait as I’m walking out of the room to eat my own meal. Stopping, I look at him, waiting for him to continue.

He shifts his gaze away from his computer and lifts it to meet mine. “I was able to get footage from the city CCTV from the street and do a face search. The woman popped up first. Essentially head of the children’s protection agency in the city.”

My entire body seizes. I tilt my head to the side, and my gaze searches his for a moment, then I just stare at him. I’m unable to speak, unable to really breathe as I think about what he’s just said to me.

“You’re shitting me,” I murmur.

“Not shitting you,” he states. “I don’t like that they were meeting with each other. Why?”

Nodding, I clear my throat and sink down on the chair across from him. It’s in the corner of the room, and I have enough space to cross my legs and rest my ankle against my knee as I spread out to think.

“There’s no way this could be connected to our past, is there?” I ask. “It’s so far away. I don’t remember ever going to New York.”

A darkness slides over Boden’s eyes, and I know he’s going back to that time, too. Unfortunately, as much as we don’t want to visit it, we’re forced to from time to time, and this is one of those times.

“I don’t remember going there, either, but we are products of a broken system, bought, used, and abused. I don’t like the fact that she was at that house, knowing Adriano’s ties to the underground.”

I don’t either.

Not in the fucking slightest.

“It is probably completely unrelated. Maybe he’s getting into politics? He’s the perfect kind of asshole for that,” I point out.

He is the perfect kind of asshole for that, but my gut is telling me it’s something more sinister.

“I’ll be back,” I state.

Standing, I walk out of the room, and the hotel. I’m not sure where I’m going yet, but I needed to get out of that room. I need to move. Powering off my phone, I decide I don’t want Boden or anyone else to be able to track me.

I don’t even bother having valet get my car. Instead, I hail a cab. The cabbie asks me where to go, and I don’t even think about the question. I give him Colette’s address. I’m not sure how the fuck I’m going to get into her room, but I am. And I’m going to get some goddamn answers.

Chapter Nine

COLETTE

I’m notsure who the hell these people are. Two men and a woman stare back at me as my father sits behind his desk like he’s some kind of king of the underworld. Not only am I confused about who they are, but I’m equally confused about why I’m being asked to attend this meeting with them.

My father has only called me into his office when he wants to demand something of me, not when he’s with anyone else. And it’s usually something I don’t want any part of… like my marriage to Malcolm Ravet.

The two men stand in the background, actually taking a step back when I enter. But the woman takes a step forward. Her brow arches as her eyes slide down my body to my feet, then back up to my face. Her gaze doesn’t meet mine. She’s not interested in my face. She’s more interested in my body, which scares the shit out of me.

“She will do,” she says as she takes a step backward.

Then, her focus swings over to my father. He leans back in his chair. I watch as he lifts his hands to his lips, pressing his fingers together. I don’t ask her what the hell I’ll do for. My father wouldn’t like that, and she probably wouldn’t answer me anyway.

Trying as hard as I can not to fidget, I lift my chin slightly as I wait for what’s to come. I know something is coming, but I can’t figure out what. My father stands from his desk. I don’t look at him, but I can see the movement in my peripheral vision.

He walks around his desk, past the men, then to the front of his desk, leaning against the wooden edge in front of her. She turns slightly to face him but doesn’t back up. Instead, she places one hand on her hip as she tips her head back, and her eyes find his.

“Do for what?” he asks.

Oh shit, even my dad doesn’t know what’s going on. My stomach twists at the thought of that. I can’t imagine my father having these people in his office, in our home, without knowing their purpose.

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