Page 12 of Torment

“Hunter is right.” Scarlet moved a little closer toward him. “I first want to talk.”

“Wouldn’t you rather get cleaned up first?” James pointed to her shirt still covered in blood from the guy Riggs had shot.

Fuck.Hunter didn’t even think about that.

“Yeah.” Hunter turned to her and lowered his voice. “Maybe you should get cleaned up first.”

“I’m fine. And no, I want to talk first.”

“Scar—”

She turned her back to him, and faced James. “Lead the way, Mr. Baxter.”

James glanced from Scarlet to Hunter, and back at Scarlet. “Fine. Follow me.”

Hunter placed his hands on his hips and sighed while silently having a cursing fest inside his mind. Why did she always have to be so damn stubborn? So determined to prove to everyone that she was as strong as bloody nails?

He quickly glanced in Riggs’s direction, and as sure as fuck he caught little soldier boy staring at Scarlet again. Hunter had already decided he didn’t like this Riggs character—at all.

Once they stepped into the mansion, Hunter tore his eyes away from Scarlet for only a few seconds to take a look around.

They stood in a stately two-story portico entrance which screamed elegance with a baronial double staircase, imported paneling, and antique fixtures that imparted a feeling of being enveloped by some kind of bygone era. Not that Hunter had any idea of bygone eras or shit like that. It just didn’t seem like a house where these guys who currently sported some impressive firearms would live.

Hunter glanced at Riggs. “So, you mentioned this was a safe house for girls? Where are these girls?”

Riggs brushed past him, purposefully shoving against Hunter’s shoulder. “Why? You need a better view?”

Hunter glared at the fucker, and said fucker glared back. Hunter’s fists started itching. “So you’re a funny man with a gun now?”

“Not in the slightest.” Riggs, who was a good few inches taller than James, stepped up next to his boss man.

James cleared his throat, obviously picking up on the tension between the two of them. “The girls stay in separate quarters. Unfortunately, due to the nature of the operation we run here, we can’t risk the girls seeing or recognizing us. Especially Riggs and me.”

Hunter cocked a brow. “What the fuck are you people in to?”

James stood to the side, gesturing toward a door on the right. “We’ll have privacy in my office.”

“After you.” Scarlet stared at James, deadpan.

When Scarlet started to follow James inside his office, Hunter grabbed her elbow and pulled her back. “Are you sure about this, Scar?”

“You’re the one who agreed to come here with these people in the first place.”

“That’s because I know you.” He tightened his grip, urging her closer. “I know that if there is even the slightest chance that this guy is telling the truth about being your father, you’d want to know.”

Her eyes glanced down to his mouth before she looked back up. And that was enough to remind him how good her lips felt against his. Warm, soft lips that demanded to take what they wanted. God, just thinking about her mouth, her tongue against his, had his cock stirring in his pants, reminding him that even after fucking Scarlet more times than he had fucked any single woman in a very long time, it was still not enough. He wanted her again, and he wanted her real fucking soon.Pun intended.

Scarlet’s eyes darkened and she leaned closer to his ear. “Do not think that because we fucked more than once that you know me. Because I can guarantee that you don’t.”

She pulled out of his grip and glared at him before turning around and heading into James’s office.

Hunter was an intelligent man, and he knew by the tone of her voice, and the daggers she glared through his forehead, that she was pissed at him. Of course, he didn’t exactly know why. Sure, there was the fact that his dead girlfriend was her sister, but it wasn’t his fault. He was just as shocked by the revelation as she was. But alas, she was pissed athim.

But he couldn’t stop himself from being turned on by her fire, her rage. He loved it…and he wanted her to take it out on him between the sheets, on the floor, the couch—wherever the fuck she wanted to.

Why the fuck, even with everything going on, could he not stop thinking about spreading her legs? Hearing her sweet, loud moans and screams of pleasure as he sunk balls deep inside her, feeling her lose control around him?

He was such a sick bastard.

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