Chapter 3
Hunter
Brown hair like waves of silk. Brown eyes shining like gold under the sun. Pale skin glowing like moonlight on fresh snow. Pink lips stretched into a smile that warms the dead thing in my chest.
She holds my hand in hers. “I love you for who you are.”
I reach for her, but everything dissolves into darkness. My eyes open, pulling me from the dream. I’ve always had dreams of a woman, but now there’s a complete image, not just brown hair and brown eyes.
I run a hand over my face. A shaky breath leaves me.
This strange longing that my body feels but my head can’t understand is killing me.
I want to wrap her in my arms and feel her warmth, the need for her burning so feral inside me that I can’t contain it.
I know, without seeing her up close or touching her, how she would feel against my body.
I get out of bed and walk to the table, lowering myself into the chair. I turn on my laptop and pull up the feed from the camera I’m controlling. The other is under Logan’s control, which he’s using for work, while mine is being used to watch her.
We’re back in Canada. These cameras work at this distance, but anything beyond it risks triggering the house’s anti-surveillance system.
After trying to talk me out of this madness, Logan has resigned himself to it. He thinks I’ll quit once I see her up close, just like every other time. He doesn’t know how wrong he is.
I’m well aware of how forbidden she is. If her father digs into me, there’s a chance our mission—killing the four men in that family—will be exposed, and then Chris will kill us.
No matter what kind of sweet-guy act he puts on for us, I see the sinister glint in his eyes every time he praises us with that fake-ass smile.
We’re getting good treatment because he needs us, otherwise, he would have finished us off by now.
After all, our abilities are a threat to him, too.
And if Chris doesn’t kill us, her father surely will.
I’m planning to kill him and his son while obsessing over his daughter.
In the past five days, I’ve seen how precious she is to him, she could be the perfect weapon to take down Alessio. Logan suggested it. We could kidnap her and bring Alessio under our thumb, but I refused.
She isn’t a pawn, and I’ll never let her become one.
Besides, she isn’t fine. I’ve overheard her mother talking about her depression and her therapist. I don’t know what her problem is, but I want to eliminate it, badly.
I hate watching her stand on the balcony, staring out for hours like she’s searching for someone.
She isn’t married, and there’s no record of any past relationships.
The thought that it’s someone she loves who put her in this state claws at my ribcage every time it surfaces, twisting tighter every time it returns.
I hate both parts of that thought—her loving someone, and her being like this because of him.
This evening, her mother sobbed about missing her smiles into her father’s arms while she was in the bathroom and they waited for her to come out.
I felt everything her mother felt, and I’ve only ever seen her smile in my dreams. I’m still longing to see her smile and hear her laughter.
The void in my chest aches to be filled by them.
She’s asleep now. A dim, warm light fills the room, just enough for me to see her.
She’s wearing a strapped white top and white shorts printed with small, colorful flowers.
One leg is under the duvet, the other above it.
The V of her top reveals the swell of her breasts. I run my tongue over dry lips.
I close my eyes. My mind conjures images of my hands on her body—touching her breasts, her smooth pale legs, her neck. Her lips against mine, how they would feel—phenomenal, I know. A groan rumbles in my throat as my cock strains against my pants.
I open my eyes and zoom in on her face. The image turns grainy, as always. Two more days, and this problem will cease to exist.
A light knock comes at my door. I take one last look at her, though it can never be enough. Even if I watched her all day and all night, it wouldn’t be enough. The peace I’ve only felt since seeing her is already becoming addictive. I shut my laptop, rise, and walk to the door.
I open it to find Logan retreating toward his room. He spins on his heel at the sound of the door opening.
“Chris agreed,” he smiles.
From the triumphant look on his face, I can tell he spent time making him agree. He always makes people agree somehow, he’s the best at it, and I’m the worst. He can talk anyone into anything, while I lose patience after one try. I lack the patience for manipulation.
He comes over, enters my room, and flops onto my bed, propping himself up on one elbow. “Aren’t you going to ask what made him agree?”
“What?”
“I told him Alessio’s daughter is in Naples and we have a plan to kidnap her.
It’s a very effective way to reach Alessio.
” My frown deepens the more he speaks. Anger rises from the depths of my gut, an uncontrollable rage surging to the edge of control.
I clench my fist so tight my nails tear into my palm.
It’s better to feel pain than to kill the only family I have.
And the bastard chuckles, lying on his back, legs crossed casually like his death isn’t standing a few feet away.
“Calm down, bro. I did no such thing. Don’t think about killing me. I told him Alessio’s daughter is in Naples and we can use her to get into their system. I threw a few plans at him, and he agreed.”
He shifts back onto his elbow. “But he suggested we kidnap her. I told him that would be too risky and might not yield anything valuable, with Alessio’s security and his global reach, it wouldn’t take him long to figure out who took her, and it would only cause more trouble.
The motherfucker smirked and said ‘you’—” he jabs a finger at me—“could do that. Then he mumbled something with that sick look on his face. I don’t know what kind of men his father and brother were, but he sure as hell is evil. ”
He sits up. “So the thing is, we leave for Naples tomorrow.” He gets up and stretches his arms overhead, twisting his neck side to side.
“Can’t wait to see your grumpy face when you reject her.
” He moves his hands behind his back, stretching his chest. “But now there’s no turning back.
Even if you decide you don’t want her, we can’t leave Naples for at least a month. ”
“We won’t be leaving Naples for a long time,” I mutter.
Not until she’s mine.