Luca (Hunting Her) - Eden Summers Page 0,63

me much choice. I’ve been calling for an hour.” He leads me back into the living area to take a seat at my dining table where my silenced phone lies in wait, the notification light blinking. “Did you just wake up?”

“Yeah. I was completely out of it.” I scrub a hand over my face. “I’m tired as fuck.”

“I bet.” There’s the slightest hint of judgment in his tone, but he doesn’t put words to it. He doesn’t need to.

“What do you want, Torian? What’s so urgent that you couldn’t wait until I found my phone?”

He sits back in the chair and shoots a glance to the kitchen. “If I were you, I’d start the coffee machine. You’re gonna need it.”

“Fine.” It’s a demand to make him a mug, but I don’t give a shit because I do need it, likely more than he does. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on? Or do I need to play barista first?”

“I’ll wait.”

“Suit yourself.”

He doesn’t speak again until I’ve got two mugs in hand and have taken my seat on the opposite side of the table. “What’s got your asshole in a bunch this morning?”

He grabs the mug, takes a mouthful, then meets my gaze. “I told you last night that she stole from me.”

Jesus Christ.

“Not this shit again. I haven’t discussed it with her.” I didn’t bring it up because it wasn’t the time. It’ll never be the time. “I’ll pay whatever she owes. Just leave her the fuck alone. She’s gone through enough.”

“She doesn’t owe a dime.” He places down the mug and grabs his cell from his suit jacket, pressing buttons before he slides it in front of me.

A pixelated black and white photo spreads across the screen. A stocky guy stands before an ATM, the majority of his head shrouded by his hoodie, sunglasses, and heavy beard.

“I was wrong.” He taps the picture. “It was this guy.”

“And who the hell is he?”

He shrugs. “No clue. But it’s someone close enough to my father to have been trusted with a keycard.”

“Someone old school or do you think we have new blood in town?” The niggle of apprehension raises the hair on the back of my neck. Luther always had allies here, even after he fled the country. The last thing we need is unfamiliar men stirring up trouble when nobody knows the kingpin is dead.

“Either is possible. The access to a keycard might be how he paid his local associates. My concern is that a threat from Greece slipped through our fingers and came here to cause trouble, because I’ve never seen this man before.”

“He’s unfamiliar to me, too.” My apprehension increases. “But you’re not here for me, are you? You want Penny to take a look.”

“Yeah. I do.”

I wipe a hand over my mouth, biting back the need to deny him. “She’s sleeping. She needs her rest.”

More than that, she deserves a few days of peace to get her head straight after last night. From both the fear and the bliss.

“I’m not waiting.” He narrows his eyes. “Either you get her or I will.”

I grind my teeth. Fist my mug. It takes every ounce of restraint to take another sip without choking on anger.

If I didn’t have the slightest sense of concern over the piece of shit in the photo, I’d fight harder to have her left alone. But instinct tells me this isn’t the time to make a stand.

“Give me a few minutes.” I walk for my bedroom and ease the door open.

“You’re back already?” She stretches, lazily blinking up at me.

“Sorry, shorty. I didn’t want to wake you again, but Torian wants to see you.”

She sits upright, then scoots from the bed. “Why?”

“It’s nothing exciting. Just get dressed and meet us in the living room.” I don’t wait for more questions. I trek back down the hall, stopping at the main bathroom to wash my face in cold water. By the time I’m heading toward the living room, she’s right behind me, dressed in jeans and a loose sweater as she pulls her hair into a high pony.

“Morning, Cole.” She follows me to the table and takes a seat while I stand beside her.

“Morning.” He gives a fake smile. “I don’t know if Luca already told you, but this isn’t a social visit.”

“Okay.” She frowns. “What’s going on?”

“Last night, I accused you of stealing. I was wrong.”

I remain coiled tight, listening to the admission that is far from the apology she deserves.

“It was a man.”

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