Page 9 of Hunted Innocence

Except in this case.

In this moment.

I think it might be time for me to confess everything.

I’ve only told him the absolute bare minimum. The basics. Giving someone your whole life story, the good, bad, and really freaking ugly, is scary as hell, especially when you want that someone to own your body, mind, and soul.

But I have to realize that the situation between Grayson and me is nothing more than employer and employee. He’s not even really my employer. Sure, he’s a partner in the company that pays me, but my direct boss is Theron.

“My husband is Landon Tate. He’s an executive assistant director in the ATF. And chief director of assholes,” I state.

My lips twitch into a smirk, mainly because I think I’m a little funny. Grayson’s expression doesn’t change. Apparently, I’m not as funny as I believe I am. Whatever. He already knows who Landon is, but he doesn’t know everything.

“He knows who and what my brother is, and when we were married, it was because I was trying to save my family's ass, and he blackmailed me into marriage. I never loved him, and he didn’t love me. He thinks he owns me.”

“Where are your parents?” Grayson demands.

My smile vanishes just thinking about them. “They dabbled in explosives. People would hire them to plant explosives in a building they needed an insurance claim on. Drugs were amajor part of their world, too, even though they tried to deny it. They were better at explosives than they were at being addicts, though. About a month after my wedding, something went wrong…”

Kaboom.

I don’t say the quiet part out loud, but thankfully, he doesn’t ask me to, and he no doubt understands my silence.

“Did you sign a contract with him?”

“Other than my marriage license?” I ask.

Grayson dips his chin, his eyes never leaving mine. “No,” I breathe. “Marrying him was the only way he would turn a blind eye to my parents’ dealings.”

“And Brody?”

“Brody doesn’t deal with explosives.”

He arches a brow, crossing his arms over his chest as he waits for me to continue. I inhale a deep breath and hold it for a moment before I let it out slowly. “Brody runs a construction company.”

Grayson snorts. “Yeah, and I’m Willie fucking Wonka.”

“I don’t know what Brody does, and I don’t ask.”

I do know some of what my brother does, and I know that it’s not legal, but that’s about the extent of my knowledge. I try to stay away from any real knowledge when it comes to his world.

“But you’re some kind of amazing hacker?” he asks. “You know how to navigate a part of the web that most of the free world doesn’t even know exists, and you can manipulate and hack it even though it’s supposed to be impenetrable.”

We stare at one another in silence for a long moment, but I choose to break that silence with more vulnerability.

“My life wasn’t good even before Landon entered it. I would lock myself away with a computer that a teacher who felt pity for me gave me. I got good at hacking things. It was my life—mypassion. And Brody would have me do stuff for him, for his club, when they were just starting out.”

“Like?” Grayson asks.

“Steal money from people.”

“Jesus Christ, Nadine,” he hisses.

I can feel his judgment, and I know it should bother me, but it doesn’t. I’ve experienced so much pity and judginess over the years that it doesn’t mean anything. At least that’s what I tell myself because the last person I would ever want to see me in a bad light is this man in front of me.

“My parents weren’t good or smart people, Grayson. They all but sold me to Landon for their own selfish security needs, and it didn’t even work. Landon made sure every single day of our time together that I was well aware of the fact that he owned me.”

“How is that?” Grayson asks.

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