Page 32 of Hunted Vengeance

Marcello turns around and walks back into the house. At the same time, my father settles in the seat beside me. Feeling his gaze on my profile, I turn my head and look at him. His dark-black eyes narrow on me, and he snorts before he moves his head from side to side. I expect him to make a tsking sound, but he doesn’t.

Then he lifts his gaze to meet mine. His expression is cold,hard, and calculating.

I decide that this is the perfect time to ask some questions. Like, I want to know what happened to my husband and what my father truly wants from me in this marriage to Malcolm. I’m under zero illusion that this is some love match that he just happened to cultivate for me.

Malcolm Ravet is creepy as hell, and I want no part of him.

Ever.

MERRICK

Boden is waitingfor me when I walk into our shared hotel suite. I’m not surprised that he didn’t go to sleep. He sleeps about as much and as well as the rest of us, which is to say not well at all.

Also, because I had my phone turned off, he likely had no idea where I was until I texted him and asked him to help me get into Colette’s room. Which probably freaked him out even more. So, needless to say, I am not shocked he’s waiting for me, given all of the circumstances.

“You want to talk?” he asks as soon as I flop down on the sofa with a groan.

I rest my elbows on my thighs and bury my face in my palms as I let out a frustrated noise. Slowly, I lift my head, my eyes finding his. He arches a brow, and his eyes search mine as he waits.

“You got any whiskey?” I ask.

Boden lets out a snort, then reaches over to the small table next to him that holds a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. I watch as he pours two fingers into each one, then extends one to me as he lifts the other to his lips and takes a sip.

“Continue,” he says, jerking his chin toward me.

Anyone else other than one of my trusted brothers, I would tell to fuck off. But since it’s Boden asking me, I clear my throat and tell him.

“She’s being moved today,” I murmur.

“Moved?”

Clearing my throat, I lean back onto the sofa and take a long drink from my glass, hissing when the liquid burns my throat on the way down. I waste as much time as possible. Not sure how I’m going to answer this shit.

“Adriano Bellucci told her to pack her bags and that she was being moved. I don’t know where. All I know is that it’s supposed to happen later this afternoon.”

Boden frowns, lifting his drink to his lips and taking another sip. I can tell he’s thinking, although I can’t even begin to imagine what is going on inside his head before he begins speaking.

“The wedding is in a couple of weeks. Where the fuck would he be sending her unless he’s got a safe house that he’s going to hold her in.”

“For what purpose?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know, but I can’t even pretend that this doesn’t have anything to do with the visitors they got earlier yesterday. Why does she need to be moved so urgently?”

Boden is right. This has to be connected. It is just too fucking weird not to be at this point. I’m not sure how to figure out the puzzle, though. The pieces are coming so sporadically, and so fucking oddly that I’m afraid we won’t be able to see the complete picture.

“I have no fucking clue,” I say. “We’re missing pieces to this, and I’m afraid we won’t find them until it’s too late.”

He jerks his chin, his gaze searching mine for a moment. “I agree. Right now, I think our best bet is to take her from the wedding. I don’t think we’ll be able to get her before that, and the wedding is going to have a lot of action and distraction.”

“That means we won’t be married any longer. The annulment should be finalized a week before her nuptials.”

“Do you care?” Boden asks. “Will it make a difference if Colette is legally your wife or not?”

Thinking about his question, I realize that it doesn’t make a fucking difference, not a single goddamn one. She’s mine. Plain and simple. She’s mine, legally or not. I’m going to get her and bring her home where she belongs—naked and in my fucking bed.

Chapter Fourteen

MERRICK

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