Page 49 of Regret

“So what’s up, Goldilocks?” Adam crossed his arms in front of his chest just as two girls came running out of the house wearing nothing but thongs and nipple patches. Silver star nipple patches. So the underwear model seemed to be a Twisted Fable regular as well.

The girls squealed like damn horny teenage girls when they found Adam and then basically glued their bodies onto his.

“Girls, girls. Please.” Adam placed his hands around their waists and kissed one—with tongue and all—before turning to the other and kissing her too. If Scarlet had eaten that morning, her breakfast would have been splattered all over the thirty thousand dollar paving right about now.

“Adam!” Hunter barked.

“Go wait for me in the Jacuzzi, girls. I’ll be right there.” Adam let go of their waists and smacked them both on their semi-naked asses as they ran back into the house.

Scarlet frowned at Adam. “Man whore much?”

“Go fuck yourself much?”

“Quit it.” Hunter stepped forward. “Adam, we don’t have time. I need a car.”

Adam glanced at the Hummer. “You have one.”

“A car that isn’t registered in my name. And then I also need access to your beach house in Winnetka.”

So that was the favor Hunter was talking about on the phone. It made sense. Obviously, Wolfe had figured out Hunter was helping her, otherwise he wouldn’t have sent those guys to his apartment. So it would only be natural to assume Wolfe would be on the lookout for Hunter’s Hummer.

Adam narrowed his eyes and suddenly looked all kinds of serious. “What’s up, Hunter?”

Scarlet looked over at him and saw Hunter was staring at her before turning back to Adam. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“I don’t doubt that. But the fact that you’re actually on my doorstep asking me for help means this shit probably runs pretty deep.”

“Adam, don’t ask questions I can’t answer right now.” Hunter looked back at Scarlet again. “Because I don’t have the answers myself.”

Those green eyes of his stared at her like he was willing the answers out of her. But what could she tell him? What kind of answers could she give him that wouldn’t make her seem like a weak woman, a statistic, a name on a list of millions of other girls and women struggling with the same kind of demons? All the answers he was looking for would make her seem like a twisted individual with a sick past—tainted and corrupted. And why the hell did she suddenly care what he thought of her?

“Fine,” Adam interrupted her thoughts. “You know the access code to the beach house, and you know where the garage is. Go pick a car.”

Hunter grabbed her hand and was almost halfway down the stairs. “Thanks, man.”

“Any car except for the—”

“I’m taking the Bugatti.”

“Goddammit,” Adam cursed behind them, but Hunter didn’t slow down and rushed around the house toward the garage, still holding her hand. Why did he keep on doing that? Why did it seem like he was grabbing her hand every chance he got? And why the hell did she like it so much?

“Fuck me.” Scarlet stared at the garage, which was bigger than Hunter’s entire apartment building. “How many cars can one guy have?”

“Adam has a thing for cars.”

“And pussy, apparently.”

Hunter snorted. “Yeah.”

Scarlet followed him while he walked straight down the middle of two rows of cars.

“Here.”

They stopped in front of a silver and black Bugatti, and Scarlet tried really hard not to seem impressed by it. “Nice wheels. But wouldn’t we kind of have a giant flashing red sign above our heads in a car like this?”

“Not where we’re going.”

Scarlet looked his way. “Where are we going?”

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