Page 118 of Hunted
He presses his lips together in a thin line as his brows pinch together in thought. His eyes move down to the papers I’m still clutching, and he gestures to them with the gun. “Give those to me.”
Slowly, so as not to startle him, I step closer, stopping so the armchair is between us as I pass the papers over.
He quickly takes them with his free hand and shoves them roughly inside an inner pocket. “Now, get Darla to hand over the company to me, and I’ll call off the hit.”
“Done,” I say instantly. I don’t even have to think about it. He’s completely destroyed her family's company anyway. She wouldn’t want it.
“But she’ll sign it over to you. So your name is on the paperwork. If you try to take me down, you won’t see anything but the inside of a prison cell for a very long time.” The threat is clear and might actually work.
How would I prove that I wasn’t a part of this all along? I’ve been working with my dad my whole life and although he tended to drive me crazy, we didn’t have a terrible relationship. I’ve also not been the most pleasant person these past fifteen years. Nobody would say they’re surprised I followed in my dad’s foot steps.
“Okay,” I say, nodding my head and seeing no other way out of this yet. “I’ll—”
“Reece! Guess wh—”
BANG!
My heart jumps in my chest, my wide eyes staring as Darla flies backwards and lands on her back, unmoving.
The room is completely silent for all of two seconds before I turn, step on the seat of the chair and launch myself over the back of it at my father. I reach for his arm, still outstretched with the gun he just shot extended towards Darla. He lands on his back, and I smash his hand into the hardwood floor several times until the gun flies out, sliding across the floor and out of his reach.
Straddling his chest, I raise my fist as his eyes go wide, “Son! No—” I don’t wait to hear what he has to say. He’s done enough talking. I punch him twice until I hear his nose crunch under my fist and blood streams down his face. He loses his fight and slumps down, so I quickly stand up, watching him to see if he’ll try to get away, but he doesn’t move.
I spin towards Darla and see her laying on the floor, unmoving.Fuck, please don’t be dead!
“Darla!” I cry, rushing to her side as my eyes scan her body to find where she’s been shot. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I whisper in panic. I’m so terrified I can’t seem to see straight. My body’s locked up, unable to figure out how to help her.
BANG!
I jerk in surprise from another gunshot, and lift my head to see the three people I want to see the most in this world, West, Bower and King, standing in the doorway to the office. Bower and King are taking in the scene with wide eyes, while West has his arm raised with a gun pointed over my shoulder.
Spinning around, I see my father on the floor right behind me, and not where I left him on the other side of the room. He’s moaning as he grips his shoulder and I see blood pouring from a wound there. There’s a knife by his side and the picture suddenly comes together. He literally tried to stab me in the back, and West shot him.
I turn back to him with wide eyes. “You saved me.”
I’ll admit I wasn’t keen on having Weston as a permanent part of Darla’s life in the beginning, but his loyalty and unwavering protection and commitment to not only her, but to our whole family, had changed my mind. And the fact that he just saved my life by shooting my father, while managing not to instantly kill him, settles something in me.
It no longer feels like I simply tolerate him to keep Darla happy. Now I actively want Weston to be a part of our family. He belongs here just as much as the rest of us, if not more.
Bower gasps, breaking me out of my shock. “Zee!” Noticing her on the floor in front of me, he runs forward, dropping to her side with King and West.
“What happened?” King asks.
“He fucking shot her,” I growl, my eyes searching for the injury.
“Fuck!” Bower curses as the other two gasp in surprise.
We all start moving her limbs to find the injury. I even tilt her body to the side and frown at the clean floor. “Where’s the blood?” I ask in confusion.
Laying her on her back again, King checks her pulse as I scan the front of her for damage. “Her pulse is strong.”
My eyes catch on a small dark circle on the front of her new bag, which is currently sitting across her chest. I poke my finger at it. “It’s a bullet hole.”
Frowning in confusion, I lift the bag, and the weight surprises me, but there’s no blood underneath. “Help me get this off her,” I tell the others. We maneuver it over her arm and head so I can pull it into my lap. As King’s hands search her torso for injury, I unzip her bag and reach inside.
A humorless laugh escapes my throat as I pull out her rock, Steve, who’s now sporting a 9mm bullet in the middle of his name. I turn it to show the others and their eyebrows raise in surprise.
West quickly turns back to Darla and pulls her crop top all the way up to her neck. She’s wearing one of the new bras I bought her, but I can still clearly see the large bruise already forming between her breasts and on her upper abdomen.
