Page 50 of Hunted Vengeance

But not at the cost of him possibly dying or being hurt. So I don’t tell him who it was. As much as I want to, I keep that close to my vest—for now. I need him to be safe because if he got hurt over anything to do with me, I don’t think I would be able to live with myself.

But I also know that I will need to come clean one day. It seems as if that day is going to come sooner rather than later. No matter how much I try to fight it.

But it’s not here yet.

Chapter Twenty-Two

COLETTE

“Room service is here,”someone calls out from the other side of the door.

Merrick lifts his head, his gaze dancing as he looks into my eyes. Then he clears his throat, shifts his face closer to mine again, and touches his lips to mine. He doesn’t deepen the kiss. It’s just a brush of his mouth against my own, but it calms me in an instant.

He takes a step backward, reaches for the door, and tugs it open. I watch as he moves to the side, jerking his chin for me to continue forward. I only pass by him and stand in the small hallway to wait for him.

Merrick doesn’t say anything. Instead, he holds out his hand, lacing his fingers with mine, and silently tugs me behind him as he walks toward the living area. When I step out from behind him, I gasp at the sight that meets me.

It’s not just a cart with food. It’s a dozen carts with silver domed plates. They’re everywhere and fill up the entire living room space. I blink, unsure of what to do. The men aren’t reaching for any of them. In fact, they are all watching me, staring at me, but not uncomfortably. They are curious.

I take one step forward, and that’s when Merrick releases his grasp on me. “I didn’t know what you wanted, so I ordered one of everything. If you want more, just tell me.”

“One of everything?” I ask.

He hums, but I can’t even look back at him. If I do, I think I’ll probably cry.

Instead, I continue to walk toward the rolling carts. Reaching for the first silver dome, I curl my fingers around the little piece that sticks up and pull it off the plate. It’s a plate of blueberry pancakes with whipped cream, fresh blueberries sprinkled around, and bananas.

It looks amazing.

“I think this one is desserts,” a voice calls out.

I don’t look up to see who said it. Turning toward that cart, I walk over and almost whimper at the huge ice cream sundae that sits in the middle. It’s a bowl filled with perfectly rounded scoops of vanilla ice cream, covered in chocolate sauce, whipped cream, and even with a cherry on top.

“I would probably eat that first so it doesn’t melt,” that same voice says, standing close to me. Lifting my gaze, I see that it’s Theron. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him. At his wedding, actually. He looks good with a smile playing on his lips, and his eyes are dancing with delight as he watches my awe.

“Okay,” I breathe, then I slide my attention across the room and take in the other men, who are all watching me. “I can’t eat all of this on my own. Please, everyone, get something.”

They don’t move. I watch as their eyes lift behind my shoulder, and I realize they’re looking to Merrick for approval. He must give it because a few seconds later, the lids are being lifted, and conversations begin to flow.

Reaching for the sundae and spoon, I pick it up before I walk over to the small kitchen and sink down on one of the barstools. Dipping my spoon into the soft ice cream, I bring it to my lips and close my eyes with a moan as soon as it touches my taste buds.

Someone clears their throat loudly. My eyes pop open, and I turn my head to the side to connect with Merrick’s gaze. His lips twitch into a smirk before he shakes his head a couple of times.

He doesn’t say anything before his attention is taken by one of the guys, and they get into a conversation. I have no clue what any of them are talking about because I am so focused on this sundae that I can’t think or concentrate on anything else.

Turning back to the food, I finish it as quickly as possible. Then I make a dash for the pancakes. I need them. I’m suddenly starving. It’s like the first taste of food has ignited something inside of me, and now I’m eating as though I’ve been starved for a decade instead of just a few weeks.

The pancakes go down just as quickly as the ice cream did. My next mission is something with protein. It doesn’t take me long to find what I’m looking for. Instead of another sweet or breakfast-type item, I have found chicken marsala with a side of pasta.

Score.

I don’t even bother taking it back to my barstool. I sink down on the edge of the sofa, place the plate on my knees, dip my chin, and open my mouth. I’m not sure I even take a breath as I completely inhale the contents of the plate.

Only when it’s gone do I sit up and lean back against the couch, closing my eyes before I let out a heavy exhale. I hear men’s laughter, which breaks me out of my food coma. Opening my eyes, I lift my head and look around, noticing that they’re all watching me and smiling.

“What?” I ask.

It’s Merrick who speaks. He’s holding a french fry in his hand. He shakes his head a couple of times. “It’s good to see you eat, baby. Don’t stop now.”

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