Page 63 of Hunter

“I love you, Bella. More than my own life. And I love that you love me enough to think I could be the only person here worth killing.” I lean down and place a soft kiss on her lips. Damon’s hovering presence tells me he wants to talk. “Now, go home, have a bath and I’ll be with you shortly.”

“No,” she argues again.

“As your husband, do me the honor of knowing you’re safe and go home. I’ll survive much more easily not being distracted by you.” That makes the sides of her mouth quirk up, a small giggle escaping. “So, please be a good wife and for once do as you’re told.”

“Okay,” she relents, releasing me reluctantly. Ronan appears again, which pisses me off that he has likely been looking for her, and that means he lost sight of her as she came to find me. I promise to assess his suitability when the current situation is resolved. Bella turns away and takes a step toward the exit, just as I check my watch.

“And Bella,” I call, causing her to glance back over her shoulder. “Wait a moment. We have a new year to bring in together.” She smiles softly, then returns to my side. We both watch the second hand on my watch tick down to midnight. As I drop my lips to hers, the nearby church bells echo through the streets, signifying the start of another year. A reminder that time keeps moving even when your world is on fire.

Then she follows Ronan from Clarion House like I asked her to, a vision of my future and the new book I want to write in the next three hundred and sixty-five days.

After taking a few moments to gather my thoughts, I look to Damon for what our next steps should be. The chances are this attack is a warning from Rodion; the risk to our arrangement and to my niece is real.

“The team is conducting a thorough search of the hotel and grounds,” Damon says as we walk together. He passes me an earpiece so I can communicate with the team. “We’ll find the gunman.”

“Where did the bullets hit?” I ask. He stops then turns to face me. “When there are bullets there are bullet holes.”

“You would think, but we haven’t found any.”

He leaves that fact hanging in the air and begins to walk again. We take an aimless path through the ground floor of the hotel, both of us uncertain what we’re looking for. It’s then in the corner, I spot movement, someone darting through a doorway to the rear of the restaurant we are in. Blonde hair disappears into the darkness, a staff member perhaps. But there is something about the way she moved that was familiar.

“Did you see that?” I say to Damon.

“What?”

“A woman, just disappeared down through that door.” His eyes follow the direction of my own, and he narrows his eyes in confusion.

“That’s a store cupboard,” he mutters. “I’ll go take a look.” Damon raises his gun as he approaches the door, taking one slow step at a time. “Who’s in there? Come out with your hands up.”

“Fuck’s sake, McKinney. You’re not a cop now,” I goad. He ignores me. “Come out with your hands up,” I mimic. Once a cop always a fucking cop.

As Damon undertakes his little crime show with some random woman in a closet, I decide to check in on my niece. Pressing the little red button at my ear, I ask Greyson for an update. He doesn’t respond. A second attempt of contact ends with the same result. I hate when people don’t fucking respond.

Damon reappears, the arm of a young woman in his grasp. She’s tall and willowy, her face streaked with fearfulness and tears. Kasia’s eyes meet mine, and she stares at me with terrified defiance. The dark tracksuit she wears is ripped in various places, and dirt is streaked over her hands and face.

“She was trying to climb into the air vent when I found her,” Damon says.

“What are you doing here?” I snap, striding toward her, my knife poised, ready to strike. Her jaw ticks, but she doesn’t reply, so I place the blade at the base of her throat. “Don’t make me ask you twice.”

“I have nothing to say,” she replies, her tone eerily calm. “Nothing matters. They will die.”

“Who?” I push the tip into her skin, enough to part the pink flesh. Her mouth closes, lips shut tight. With a look to Damon, he signals we can come back to this. It’s obvious Kasia is involved in whatever this is, but how we don’t know. “Take her back to the mansion. We can deal with her later.”

“Yes, Boss.”

“And get Greyson on the line, he’s not answering.”

“Just press the second button. If his headset is off, it will come back on. He reported they had reached the suite safely.”

“Get her out of my sight.” I wave a hand in Kasia’s direction, then press the green button that activates all headsets in the system to transmit. Immediately, I hear Greyson speaking. The other lines sit silent, men going about their tasks and only speaking when needed.

“What do you like?” his deep Scottish accent asks. I listen intently; my interest piqued by what could be being discussed. Damon, who was escorting Kasia to another guard to transport home, stops. He tenses, then turns back to face me. He can hear this too.

“When you call me Tilly,” my niece responds. “It’s as if you know me. It’s like what we have is real. Whatever it is.”

My eyes snap to Damon, and I give him a look asking if he fucking knew about this. He stares back blandly and shrugs. I stay silent, listening to their conversation about being friends, then more than friends, and how a few days running from the Russian mafia in Scotland brought them together.

Greyson hammers the final nail into his coffin. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you.”

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