Page 75 of Hunted Innocence

“We missed you. Don’t ever leave us again,” Theron murmurs before they take a step backward as a group.

Each of the men gives me a smirk and a wink before they walk away, but Theron stays. “You’re the only woman I could ever have at my desk, Nadine,” he announces.

I don’t remind him that his wife works here in the office. Instead, I give him a small smile. His lips twitch as his eyes search mine. He doesn’t elaborate on the fact that I am indeed not the only woman he could have at his desk, but I don’t question him, either.

“You take care of me, of all of us. And this world, this office, is darker without you in it. Don’t leave us again. Just talk to me.”

“I didn’t think that talking about my relationship with Grayson would be appropriate.”

He snorts. “I already got the scoop from Lucille. She likes to talk after she comes,” he states, and I press my lips together, trying not to giggle at his words.

“I think he needs to come back here, too, and I agree that it needs to be on his terms, or at least he thinks it does. I’m in on it.”

God.

How did I ever think I could leave these men?

They are amazing.

GRAYSON

The first manon my list is all the way in Florida. His last known whereabouts were twelve hours away outside of Miami. His connection to Landon Tate was as an informant from one of the Cuban Mafia regimes here stateside.

I have no doubt he was trafficking women for whatever sick shit Tate was part of, and in turn, Ravet. Because there is no way that Ravet’s dirty fucking fingers weren’t all in this pie. This has his name written all over it.

And even though it doesn’t matter too much anymore, seeing as the fucker is dead, actually both fuckers, Ravet and Tate, aredead, I still want to know, and I still want the blood of every single man involved.

Vaughn’s approach to the rage that he feels inside is, without a doubt, understandable now that we’ve been working on this shit. I want to go back and hurt Tate more. I want to go back and torture Ravet. But I can’t. Killing someone who is just as fucking evil sounds like a damn good plan.

During the entire twelve-hour drive, two things on my mind play on a loop. One is finding these sick fucks and ending them; although I’m only supposed to be doing surveillance, it doesn’t make me want to kill them less. And two, Nadine.

Nadine is never out of my thoughts, no matter how far those thoughts drift as I drive. Beating the GPS, I arrive in Miami in eleven hours. I’m not sure why it feels like I’ve accomplished something, but I know that nobody gives a shit but me about that.

Instead of getting a hotel, I head straight for the rented home I booked during my last stop to fuel.

Pulling into the driveway of the rented house, I take my phone out of my pocket and thumb through my emails until I find the one with the passcode. It’s well into the evening, past ten, and I’m exhausted from sitting on my ass for hours on end.

It’s a three-bedroom, three-and-a-half-bath house in what seems to be a nice and quiet neighborhood. I’m not sure if it’s going to be the right fit for me. I don’t need anyone watching or paying attention to my comings and goings.

Gathering my shit, I unload the car into the foyer. Setting everything down on the shiny white-tiled flooring. Then I lock the front door, start to look around the house, and take in my new home for the next month.

I’ve prepaid for the month in hopes that it will take me less than that to get this information, to get this bastard, and get the fuck out. As much as I want to be the one to physically end hislife, whoever the fuck he is, I don’t know what I’m walking into, so I need to just relax.

Plus, I’m not a mercenary. As much as I want to think I am, indeed, I am not. So, what I need to do is stick to the plan. I need to do the work, the surveillance. I need to get this fuck on the map and then send that information to the office so they can do their work. Whatever that looks like… hopefully, it includes an early death.

The house is nicely furnished, almost too nice for a rental. The sofa itself probably cost ten grand. It’s white leather to match the white flooring. The rug that said sofa sits on is black and plush.

Moving to the kitchen, I’m not surprised to see every cabinet full of whatever a house would need to operate, including small appliances that I don’t even know what the fuck they’re used for.

Something catches the corner of my eye, and I look out the back door to see a swimming pool. Well, at least I’ll be able to get a little relaxation in during the hours I’m not working. Maybe I can even do some of my computer work by the pool with a drink.

My lips turn up into a smirk. Maybe I won’t want to go home after all. But as soon as I think that, my heart twitches because an image of Nadine flashes in front of my eyes, making me want to go back right fucking now.

I’ve got a duty, a mission, and I’m not going to slack on my job. This job protects her, and it needs my whole attention, which is what it will get.

Every damn ounce.

Chapter Thirty-Three

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