Page 55 of Hunted Vengeance

It’s him. I couldn’t forget him if I tried, Colette.

It’s him. I couldn’t forget him if I tried, Colette.

It’s him. I couldn’t forget him if I tried, Colette.

It’s him. I couldn’t forget him if I tried, Colette.

I want to scream at him, but I’m just as shaky as he is, and the way he’s totally broken makes me want to run to him. It also scares the absolute shit out of me. If Malcolm scares Theron this much, then I know he’s bad—like, really freaking bad.

Opening my mouth, I start to ask him what we’re going to do when his entire body jerks, and then he starts to move. I feel his arms wrap around me before he picks me up and carries me to the bedroom. My feet hit the floor, and he takes a step backward.

“Lock the door. Do not open it unless it’s me,” he snaps. “I don’t care what the fuck you hear, Colette.”

I start to tell him not to go, but he shakes his head and holds his hand up. “I don’t care what the fuck you hear,” he repeats.

“Okay,” I exhale.

But I know I can’t just sit back and listen, not without doing something. Not if Theron is going to be hurt. I couldn’t let anything happen to him because of me. I refuse. This is all my fault, and I can’t let anything happen to him, not with a wife at home.

My stomach twists at the thought. Then there is a noise. Another thud, then a grunt. I hear some shouting. I begin to pace back and forth and then think about calling someone for help, but I don’t know who I would actually call.

I have nobody.

When I hear another thud, I rush toward the door, flipping the lock before I wrench the door open. I don’t have any kind of plan as I rush out into the living space. But when I see Malcolm on top of Theron, I know that I can’t just sit back and watch.

All the carts are still set up, and I reach for a bottle of sparkling water. Lifting it over my head, I slam it down on the back of his skull. He stops and slumps over. Theron pushes him off his body, and we both watch as Malcolm rolls away.

Theron attempts to catch his breath, standing slowly as he does. He looks down at Malcolm and then slowly lifts his gaze to meet mine.

“This is who you were supposed to marry?”

“Yes,” I exhale. “What are we going to do?” I ask.

He shakes his head but doesn’t speak right away. I watch as Theron stares down at Malcolm, his eyes wide, almost as if he’s in disbelief that he’s here. I wish I could tell Theron to kill him, but my lips won’t form the words. Instead, I stare for a moment as well.

“We need to do something,” I whisper.

“I know,” he says.

I slide my gaze down to him again. The only person I can think to call is Marcello. But I would rather Merrick help. Pinching my eyes closed, I suck in a breath and reach out for Theron. He can’t think straight with Malcolm right here.

Wrapping my fingers around Theron’s wrist, I gently tug him into the bedroom with me so he can get a clear head. I’m not sure if it’s the right choice or not. But as soon as that bedroom door closes, his entire body jerks and it’s as if whatever cloud was swimming around inside of his head is gone in the next moment and his eyes are clear again.

“I need to call Merrick,” he announces.

MERRICK

My phone ringsat the absolute most inopportune time. Adriano has decided that he wants us to track this Malcolm person. Flicking my gaze over to Vaughn, I can’t help but wonder if there’s going to be a hit on Malcolm at any given moment.

“I’m going to take care of him myself. My issue is that I cannot do the proper surveillance. He’s surrounded by too many big players, politicians, and law enforcement. Getting in and finding out when he will be alone so I can go in unseen is challenging.”

My phone stops buzzing in my pocket, then begins again immediately. As much as I want to broker another deal with this asshole, I need to answer this call before I go any further with Bellucci.

Holding up one of my hands, I reach into my pocket with the other and slide my thumb across the screen, where Theron’s name is displayed. Standing, I walk away from Adriano a few paces before I hold the phone up to my ear.

“Steele,” I grunt, trying not to give away who is on the phone.

“Ravet is here, in our room.”

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