Page 7 of Torment

“Like I said, she’s my daughter.”

“And like I said, I don’t trust you. You don’t just appear out of thin air after twenty-four years claiming to be her father and then expect everyone to accept that little tidbit of information.”

James eyed Hunter with curious eyes before leaning back in his seat. “Fine. Ask me anything you want to know.”

Hunter lowered his gun a little. “Why did you—”

“I was talking to her,” James interrupted, and looked at Scarlet. “Ask me anything.”

Scarlet froze, feeling like she had this huge, bright spotlight over her. Why was it that she always had this big mouth that would never shut up, but whenever she really needed her mouth to work, it didn’t?

Hunter glanced her way, and she saw the concern in his eyes. It was hard to believe that just last night they were in the master bedroom of a huge mansion, and she was tied to the bed while giving this man full control over her body—something she thought she would never be able to do. And then, after making that giant leap of fuck knows what, it was like the universe tossed them this big old curveball consisting of one giant clusterfuck. The master of all revelations—no, themotherfuckerof all revelations—got thrown right at their faces. The woman who was the root of all Hunter’s pain, the woman who got buried right along with Hunter’s soul, was none other than Scarlet’s dead sister—Willow. She was also the woman whose death Scarlet had carried on her own hands for the last seven years.

Yeah—it wasthatbad.

When she looked back at James, trying to concentrate on one clusterfuck at a time, there was only one question she wanted to ask. Out of probably two thousand questions, only one seemed to matter to her.

“Why now?”

James kept his gaze on her for a while before turning to both Riggs and Hunter. “Gentlemen, let’s put our weapons away, please.”

Riggs didn’t hesitate. Like a good little soldier boy, he placed his gun back in the holster on his side. Hunter, on the other hand, was his usual stubborn self and didn’t even attempt to move.

“Hunter,” she said softly. “Put away the gun.”

He tilted his head in her direction without looking at her directly. She saw his hesitation, and for a second she appreciated the fact that he was being so protective over her.Or was he?

Was he being protective over her, or was he just protecting himself? After all, his life was in just as much danger now as hers.

God, she hated the fact that she doubted him, his motives. But now was not the time for insecurities. And since when did Scarlet feel insecure about anything?

Hunter tucked his gun in the back of his pants and sat back.

James leaned forward, clutching his hands in his lap. “What I’m about to tell you might not make any sense, Blanchette.”

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped. She hated that name. There was nothing good associated with it.

“Fine. Scarlet.” He lifted his eyes to meet hers. “I know he’s after you.”

“Who?”

“Brent.”

“How do you know that?”

James glanced down at the floor like he was searching for the answer down there. “Because I’ve been watching over you for years.”

Scarlet’s spine stiffened, and she felt something warm cover her hand in her lap. When she looked down, it was Hunter’s hand covering hers, squeezing lightly. For a second, his touch warmed the chill that spread down her spine, but it only made her insecurities knock harder against her skull.

Trying to act as brave as possible, wanting to seem completely unaffected by it all, Scarlet removed her hand from under his, and focused on James again. “If what you say is true, you’ll know that Brent has been looking for me for years. So why did you only come to myrescuenow?”

“Because things changed.”

“What things?”

Bruce shifted uncomfortably. “You know, normally, people who just met their father after twenty-four years would ask simple questions like whether that person knew your birthday, your star sign, or your mother’s name.”

“Well, you can ask Hunter here, I’m not your normal, average twenty-four-year-old.”

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