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We’re not letting her go.
I put this conversation off with him for later. Once we’ve done some serious damage control.
“Anything else, Luna?”
“Christopher asked to make sure that you know he’s coming for your perfect little family.” She pauses. I wait. “That by the time he’s done, no one will remember you or Carter ever existed.”
“We’ll see about that.” I seethe.
“What are you going to do?”
“We’ll get on it this morning. We’re going to find him.”
Carter and I look at each other. Our furious glares clash, setting the living room on fire.
“Then we’re going to make him regret the day he was born.”
CHAPTER FORTY
Amara
Iknew it. I fucking knew it.
While the men thought they were being oh-so-secretive, I caught them. I heard them. The low volume of the speaker wasn’t as low as they’d have liked to believe.
Through the small crack I opened the door, the conversation had reached up to me.
Carter and Killian are much more than just hotel owners. They’re as violent and murderous as the mafia men I saw tonight. I heard and watched their murderous thoughts bleed everywhere around them.
I don’t mind the violence they promised to rain on Christopher. Don’t care if they kill the guy or not. He’s a bad man and I trust their judgment.
But I’m struggling. I trust them. Why can’t they trust me?
Do they think I’ll go to the newspapers? Tell someone I shouldn’t?
I would be so turned on to be near them when they had their hands covered in blood or standing over a corpse.
As I lie back in Killian’s bed—ours, unless it’s another half-truth—I wipe a tear from my cheek.
It can’t be it. They trust me, I’m sure they do.
My mind whirs back to the night the burglar broke into my apartment.
The man who attacked me hasn’t returned. There’s been no retribution.
With the information I have now, I can guess why. He must be dead. Carter killed him. He had to.
Carter, the man who rules over the lawless alongside his stepdad, Killian.
Maybe they’re scared of my reaction. Of what I’d say when I find out I’m sleeping with men who kill people as part of their job description. Men whose lives are filled with crime and violence.
I don’t hate it.
How could they think I would? They heard me giggling when they beat Christopher up.
They’re fucking badass. And now I’m badass by association.
Think, Amara. Think. Before you run downstairs and yell at them, use your brain.
