Chapter 42
FORTY-TWO
BOSTON
Victor has cooked a whole fucking meal for dinner.
There’s steak, potatoes, and gravy, the whole nine yards, all lined up on the table that I’ve hardly ever eaten at.
He sits down and doesn’t even wait for us before he starts digging in.
Maven comes into the dining room after getting off the phone with her sister and takes the seat between Victor and me.
She looks a little pale and is avoiding making eye contact with me.
“Dynamite.” I set my hand over hers and squeeze gently. “Eat.” She attempts to, chewing on a piece of meat for a long while before she finally places both hands on the table and turns to look at me.
“I know who sent you the video,” she croaks. “But I don’t want to tell you because you need to rest.”
“I have to go out anyway.” I shoot a glance at Victor. “We have somewhere we need to be, so tell me.”
She shakes her head. “No. You’re supposed to be resting. What could be so important tonight that it can’t wait?” She averts her eyes again.
“They have Rolland,” I tell her.
She gasps. “They do? How?”
“He made a mistake when he went up to you. I hacked into the security cameras, and it didn’t take long to trace him back to an old, abandoned house from a bust we made years ago.
So that’s where he was hiding. I sent Reon and Arlo after him.
I contemplated turning him over to the authorities, but I don’t think he deserves that luxury. ”
“What do you plan to do with him?” she asks.
“The hunt,” I admit. Victor clenches the knife in his hand, knowing she isn’t supposed to know about it.
“I’m coming,” she announces, getting to her feet. “If you want to know who sent the video, you’re taking me with you.”
“You know I can’t do that.” I also stand, though not as quickly as she does. Everything still hurts, but I want to protect her.
“You can, and you will,” she insists. “Go. I’ll follow you.”
Victor shakes his head.
“You have a flat tire; your bike is still at the pharmacy,” I remind her.
“Fuck,” she growls. “I’m riding with you.” Before I can tell her no again, she raises her hand. “End of discussion. I will tell you this much. It was one of your members who sent it.” Without another word, she heads for the front door.
I glance at Victor, who is watching her go.
“Who do you think it is?” I ask.
He shakes his head in answer as I grab my mask and follow her out. She’s waiting at the door, and her gaze falls to the mask.
“I’ve seen that before … at Bailey’s house. I took it.” She extends her hand toward it.
“I knew as much.”
“You wear them when you hunt?”
“Yes. And we each carry a weapon of our choosing.”
“Weapon?”
“We don’t have to use weapons, but it does make the game a lot of fun.”
“What’s your weapon?”
“Depends, but generally my gun.”
Victor joins us, and we all walk outside. “They won’t be happy you’re there,” I tell her. “They may even try to kill you.”
“As you said, they can try.” She climbs into the back seat without another word, and as she does, I realize she has a knife sheathed at her hip. Of course she does. She knows better than to go somewhere like this without protection.
On the way, Reon calls. I reject his call and look back at her.
“This is probably the dumbest thing you have done,” Victor says to me as he drives.
“Never claimed to be smart, Victor.”
He snorts. “No. You’re just stupid in love.”
Stupid in love? Is that a thing? Is that what I am?
Am I in love with my wife?
I know I want her. Fuck, I wanted her the moment I first saw her.
But in love?
Her blue hair is down, and she stares out the window, seemingly lost in thought.
She shouldn’t be coming with us tonight, and I’m an absolute fool for thinking I can protect her.
But I’m a bigger fool because I can’t tell her no.
Somewhere along the way, I’ve become infatuated with my wife.
Not just because of the way she looks, and how I could taste her every single fucking day, but because of who she is as a person.
I imagined when I finally decided to take a wife, that it would be someone who is nice, sweet even. I have the complete opposite of that. She’s smart, sassy, messy, and extremely fucking lethal. And if she could, she’d live off strawberry milkshakes for the rest of her life.
I never thought I could handle someone who lives the way she does.
I run a tight ship in my house; it helps keep my mind under control.
And yet, I fucking love her mess, but I think it’s because I love the person who’s making it.
Which also means if someone wants to try to kill her tonight, I guess we’re both going to be buried out in those fucking woods.
Because there’s no chance in hell I will let anyone lay a finger on her.