Page 44 of Hostile Bond
Contentment.
That’s what had lured me into the best dream of my life.
A blissful state where I’m sitting next to my gorgeous, pregnant wife, rubbing a hand over her round belly, on the hunt for the fluttery kicks she tells me our unborn baby is making.
Already the kid is a fighter—a true Souza champion. Pride runs through the ventricles of my heart and blends with the unconditional love I have for the new additions to my family––the very things I didn’t know I wanted and will never willingly live without.
Knowing something we’ve created together is growing inside of her––another Souza life––well, it makes me horny, possessive, and a whole lot more obsessive over her.
Thisis my new game.
Loving and protecting them.
I’ve got the whole world in my hands, but it doesn’t mean shit if she’s not beside me.
“I’ll always love you, Dré.” Sinéad looks at me, her mesmerizing eyes troubled, the tone she uses dripping with sorrow.
“What’s wrong?” I thumb her cheek and try to pull her in closer, but she slips through my fingers.
I suck in a sharp breath and jerk. The room we’re sitting in becoming so dark I can’t see her anymore.
“Dré!” another voice echoes in the back of my mind. “Wake the fuck up, Dré!”
Suddenly I’m shaking from the set of hands clamped on my shoulders and my heart is pounding like I’ve ingested a lethal dose of ketamine.
Blinking my eyes open, I immediately jackknife to sit, automatically throwing a hand out to grab my gun from the nightstand.
“What the fuck, Tommy?” I look over my shoulder to find Sinéad’s side of the bed empty.
Tomás runs a hand down his face and straightens his spine. Rigid. Business-like. That act alone sends a warning flare into the atmosphere. He’s bare-chested, wearing only a pair of silk boxer briefs, and holding his golden revolver.
“Get up. We have a situation.”
“Sinéad!” I call to her, thinking she must be in the bathroom.
“She’s not in here, Dré.” I freeze. “Get the fuck up… now!” he growls the sharp command.
“What do you mean, she’s not here?” I swing my legs over the edge of the mattress and bounce to my feet, scanning the suite.
“Dré… did something happen between you two?”
Pushing past him, I march to the coffee table, still wearing my robe, grab my cell phone and check to see if she’s messaged me. There’s only a text from Uncle Conal, so I stuff the phone into my robe pocket and prioritize my wife.
“No… now tell me what’s going on, Tommy.”
He’s next to my hip in four predatory strides, latching onto my elbow and dragging me to the door. “Did you guys have a fight?”
“Why are you asking me this shit?” My breathing quickens as we move into the corridor. “Nothing happened. You’re pissing me the fuck off now,cabron. Where is she? What do you know that I don’t?”
“She’s on the runway… in the jet, Dré. She threatened to shoot the pilot if he didn’t get the plane ready.”
My heart stops beating. “Jesus fuck… what… she’s in the plane… she’sleaving?” I try to exhale, but adrenaline takes over and I start running. “Why would she leave?”
I bound down the stairs. Jumping, I purposefully miss the last three steps to save time.
“That’s what we have to figure out.” Tomás’ voice is distant amidst the whirlwind of past conversations replaying in my mind.
What did I miss?
