Page 200 of Colt

Atlas looked between the men, a huge smile covering his face as he held up a huge, meaty hand. “Wait!” he demanded, brow furrowing questioningly. “If you’re FBI, and Elise Henderson’s workin’ for you pigs, what the fuck has shit-for-brains here gotta do with anythin’?” He jerked his thumb toward the prisoner.

I rubbed at the tension headache forming in my temple, my eyes lifting to the poor fucker hanging like a piece of meat, his cock waving in the breeze. “Brothers,” I muttered. “This is my colleague. He’s been working undercover for the FBI on this job for seven years. “This is Special Agent Brett Stafford. The poor bastard you’ve just beat bloody.”

Prez’s hands went to his waist, and he looked to the heavens, cursing out loud.

“Jesus,” Cash breathed.

“I don’t fuckin’ believe this,” Bowie said under his breath.

Kit’s mouth pressed into a thin line before he spat, “Fuck!”

And good old Atlas… well that asshole barked a laugh so loud it almost burst my goddamned eardrums.

Fuck my life.

Sophie ~ Two Days Later

I sat, my fingers touching the plain white of the envelope, mind whirring with so many questions it made me dizzy.

When Elise Henderson was brought in three days before, almost beaten to death, of course I stepped up. I loved being a doctor, loved skewing the odds and saving a life, even when I could feel the Reaper circling.

On her death, bed my mom begged me to go to Hambleton. She told me it was my place of birth and maybe the place where I could get my questions answered.

Seemed she wasn’t wrong.

The first rule of treating a patient was to take their vitals, check their airways, and if there was any chance of a head injury, get a CT scan. The second rule was to find out if they had allergies to any medication and check their blood type.

After checking her vitals, airways, and carrying out a CT scan, Colt hacked into Elise’s medical records to check for allergies and her blood group. When the information came back, I did a double take.

Elise and I shared a B negative blood type.

That in itself wasn’t an issue, millions of people had the same blood types. What made it unusual was that mine and Elise Henderson’s blood type was one of the rarest in existence. Only one and a half percent of the population were B negative.

At first, I didn’t think much of it. Hambleton’s population was small, but it wasn’t impossible for a couple of different families to share rare blood types, though it was uncommon. I pushed it to the back of my mind and continued treating her as I would anyone, but then I began to notice little things.

When I adjusted her IV drip, I caught sight of something that made my heart skip a beat—a small mole on Elise’s top lip, identical to mine, and now Belle’s. My fingers trembled slightly, and I brushed it off as coincidence.

Later, when Atlas helped me turn Elise onto her side to check her injuries, I noticed something that stopped me in my tracks. There, on the small of her back was a birthmark in the shape of a strawberry—a perfect match to mine. What freaked me out was that Belle also shared the same marks, the mole, and the strawberry, all in identical places, as if it had been passed down from mother to daughter….

An unsettled feeling hit my stomach and refused to leave. It lingered inside me like a ghost haunting me with questions I couldn’t answer, and evidence that I tried to explain away in my mind.

When I got home that night, I sat down with Danny and told him everything. My man was practical. If he thought my suspicions were just wishful thinking, he’d tell me I was being an idiot and to stop reading into coincidences.

He didn’t.

What he did instead was call John and relay everything to him.

Prez was dumbfounded, he told me the first time he saw me, he noticed the mole and it threw up memories of Elise from when they were younger. John asked me to return to the club and take a blood test to determine if there was a maternal link between me and Elise.

After we took Elise’s blood, I took a vial of mine and sent them both off to a guy I knew in a lab. While we spoke to John, I noticed Danny looking between us both, his brow creased like he was trying to work something out.

The problem was, we couldn’t conclude how it could be true,

Mine and Robbie Henderson’s birthdays were two weeks apart, him being the slightly older one.

If our birthdays were the same day, we could’ve been twins, but it was an impossibility for a woman to give birth to two babies, two weeks apart. I wracked my brains, and even checked out medical journals to see if a woman was ever pregnant with twins, and somehow, one was born later, but it didn’t make sense to me. Superfetation was a term I’d heard of though I wasn’t familiar with it, but deep down it didn’t add up.

How could I have a twin who looked totally opposite to me? Elise had green eyes and was blonde. Robert Senior and Junior were blue-eyed and also light-haired.

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