Page 65 of Hunted Vengeance

“I’m trying to get Colette pregnant as soon as fucking possible,” I state.

Grayson snorts out a laugh, shaking his head a couple times from side to side, but doesn’t look at me. He is focused straight ahead, his eyes looking out at the city lights. I hate New York, but this right here, the view of the city from this balcony, makes me dislike it a little less than I did inside the hotel room.

“Of course you are. Do you have a theory behind that?” he asks.

“Do you want to tell me what’s up your ass?” I ask instead of answering him.

He makes a noise in the back of his throat as he picks up the bottle of whiskey and pours himself some more. He leans back in his chair and tilts the whiskey glass to his lips to take a drink before he speaks. I’m not sure what I expect him to say, but I almost laugh because I don’t expect this.

“I think I might have done something pretty fucking stupid,” he states.

I wait in silence for him to continue. My focus is on him now and only him because Grayson is typically like the rest of us—calculated and logical. So, this can only mean one thing: it involves a woman. He’s the next one to fall, and I’m about to call outtimberwhen he continues.

“It’s Nadine.”

I blink slowly, and then I clear my throat before I say anything. Nadine is much like Colette in the fact that she’s reserved, quiet, and shy as fuck. She’s not the same as Colette in the way that she won’t even look any of us in the eyes—almost as if she’s scared to death to be anywhere near us. I honestly cannot imagine how they got together.

“Okaaaay. What’s the issue?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Her husband.”

And I have no fucking voice. Not a single sound escapes because I have no idea what to say to him. Husband. First of all, I can’t imagine someone like Nadine, in all her shyness, being married. Secondly, I really can’t imagine her cheating on said husband.

I open my mouth to ask him about the story because there must be a whole-ass fucking story when I hear a noise from the balcony next to me. Turning my head slowly, I see a man leaning over with a gun in his fucking hand.

“Down,” I bark.

We both hit the floor of the balcony at the same time, the bottle of whiskey shattering around us. Grayson crawls across the small space and reaches for the door. I’m not sure how fast it all happens, but I swear to fuck, it feels like it takes us hours to get into the room.

We flip the lock closed and also shut the curtains. I don’t bother waiting even a fucking second. When those curtains are closed, I’m on my feet and running toward the bedroom to check on Colette.

She’s fast asleep where I left her, but I know for certain now that we cannot stay here. Standing in the doorway of the bedroom, I slowly turn to look back at Grayson. He hisses out a few choice words before his eyes meet mine.

“We’ll get her clothes somewhere else. We need the fuck out of here.”

“My father has a place in Florida,” Colette announces.

My whole body jerks because, just moments ago, she was asleep. I don’t know how the hell she got up so quickly and walked her ass out here without either of us hearing a goddamn thing.

Fuck.

But her mentioning Florida, how could I have forgotten about that place? It was where I initially installed the whole fucking surveillance system, but then he added on New York when I married Colette, keeping her hostage until I agreed to do it for fucking free. And I did just that because I didn’t want to deal with Bellucci’s bullshit.

“We can’t go there,” Grayson states. “We need to be here because this is where Ravet is.”

He’s right. I know he is, but my instinct to protect Colette overshadows what needs to happen. I know it does, too. She is the bait. I just don’t want her to be fucking dead bait in the process.

“I know,” I grumble. “But it can’t be in this hotel room, and we can’t stay in any other hotel under our names.”

Colette takes a step forward. She’s dressed in the same shirt she was in earlier, my shirt, but I know she’s going to need some more clothes. I’ve got to get working on that, as much as I want to keep her completely naked at all times.

She also needs shoes because right now, all she has are those stupid-as-fuck heels she was wearing with her wedding dress.

“I can call my father. He’s got to have somewhere we can go or at the least get us a room under a different name.”

As much as I don’t want to ask Adriano for a fucking thing, she’s right. We won’t make it out of this room alive without some help. Digging my phone out of my pocket, I hand it over to Colette to do just that. Ask goddamn Adriano Bellucci for fucking help.

COLETTE

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