Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Hunter scoops up his phone, scanning over the notification, and as his brow arches, my curiosity is piqued. Nothing ever gets his attention like that . . . nothing except for Lyra.
My gaze shifts back to her fast asleep on the couch, and a wave of unsettling guilt washes through me. She thinks she knows all of our secrets. Thinks she knows who Hunter really is, and while she might know Hunter’s side of things, she hasn’t even begun to know mine. I doubt she even suspects.
When Hunter was exposed, I had every opportunity to step forward, to tell her I wasn’t exactly innocent either, but I didn’t. I allowed her to keep believing that I was the safer option. That I was the man she should be running to while seeking comfort and safety. But truth be told, I’m just as vile as Hunter. If not worse.
Hunter tosses me his phone, and I glance over the contract, my brows arching the same way his had, and I meet his stare across the living room. “The last time we went after this guy, we almost died.”
Hunter nods, and I toss the phone back to him.
“It’s a bad idea.”
“Terrible idea,” he agrees.
I glance toward Lyra, fast asleep and completely oblivious to the fact that she’s very quickly falling for the two men she absolutely shouldn’t want.
“Fuck.”
Hunter sucks in a breath, and I stand, determination rocking through me. Since the moment this bastard almost got the best of us last time, we’ve done nothing but fantasize about the day we would meet again, and that day has finally come.
I grin because, let’s be honest, there was never even a question about it. The moment that contract came through, right along with a pinned location of the target, it was as good as done. No matter how risky it might be.
At my movement, Smooch stands, looking at me for a command, and I point toward Lyra. “Protect her,” I tell him, knowing he understands exactly what’s expected of him.
His ears perk up, and Smooch immediately moves, settling directly in front of Lyra and watching out the window for any kind of threat.
“Good boy,” I murmur, pleased that between us, at least the dog is capable of making responsible decisions.
And with that, Hunter reaches for the keys of his Challenger, and we stride out the door with purpose, knowing that tonight, we will finally even the scoreboard, and this time, we won’t be coming back empty-handed.
20
HUNTER
Maddox rides shotgun in my Challenger as I drive thirty minutes outside the city until I’m pulling up on the outskirts of a gated compound.
Antonio DeLuca.
He’s a heavy hitter in the cartel and one of the largest heroin manufacturers in the country, which naturally means he has no shortage of enemies willing to pay obscene amounts of money to see him disappear. He’s also a certified piece of shit, and the scars stretched across my back are proof of that.
It was only a matter of time before Antonio ended up on my radar again.
The last time Maddox and I went after him, we both nearly lost our lives. We underestimated him. We were young, reckless, and far too arrogant for our own good. Back then, we thought having guns and confidence made us dangerous, but Antonio didn’t hesitate to teach us a valuable lesson.
We escaped. Barely. But tonight, we settle the score.
Things have changed since then.
We’re not inexperienced idiots charging headfirst into situations we don’t understand. We’re professionals now. Smarter. Better equipped and infinitely more dangerous. We’re fucking lethal now, and nothing is going to stop me from putting that bastard in the ground where he belongs. This isn’t just a hit anymore, this is personal.
Antonio may be ruthless, and he may have hundreds of men willing to die for him, but he isn’t as ruthless as Maddox. He isn’t as brazen as I am, and he sure as fuck won’t see either of us coming.
As the compound comes into view, I kill the headlights and roll the car to a stop beneath a cluster of trees overlooking the property.
“Home sweet home,” Maddox mutters, a darkness swimming in his tone.
I snort. I’ve never heard truer words, especially considering that we were prisoners here for a few weeks before one of Antonio’s men made a mistake that cost him his life. Valuable lessons were learned during our last little dungeon vacation.
Using thermal optics and a drone small enough to avoid detection, we begin surveying the compound from a distance. Six security patrols and not a single blind spot on the cameras. We watch for almost an hour, taking note of the guard rotations and both entry and exit routes, something we more than rushed years ago. Tonight, we’ll take our time and do it right, because I don’t intend on turning this particular trip into another three week long stay while wrapped in chains.