Hunter - Blaire Drake Page 0,32

in our lives hadn't shrunk or even eased. When she'd died, she'd taken a piece of Darien's heart with her. The rest belonged to me, and if it didn't, I knew he'd have joined her that day.

He was her soulmate in the way my father never was.

“Come on, Dar. Please.” I walked to him and grabbed his hands. “She'd want this. Her heart would break knowing that we weren't doing anything when we could.”

He looked down at me, his lips pursing to the side. His internal battle was written all over his face, and I bit my lower lip. I could see him slowly giving into me as I gave him my biggest puppy-dog eyes I'd ever given.

“I want to talk to Carlo,” he demanded. “And then I will consider your fucking ridiculous plan. Do you understand? I will consider it.”

Yes. I understood the word consider, and I also knew what it meant.

He'd get every last drop of information out of Hunter, and then he'd agree, because he had no other option.

“Thank you.” I reached up onto tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “I'll call him.”

“Mmm.”

Chapter Eight – Hunter

I pulled into the driveway of Adriana and Darien's house on my bike. Thankfully, this time, I hadn't had to break into the gated community because I'd been added to the access list. Not me, exactly. A fake name, but that was something.

I hoped it meant Darien trusted me even the smallest amount.

Well, he trusted me enough to let me into the house.

I stood the bike up and took off my helmet. Tucking it under my arm, I approached the front door and prepared to knock.

Darien beat me to it. He swung the door open as my bottom foot touched the first step and glared down at me. His dark hair was slicked back from his face, showing the graying hairs at the sides of his face. He looked like he hadn't shaved in a couple days, and even that was peppered with gray flecks.

I got the feeling that his conversation earlier today with Adriana had aged him considerably.

I understood that entirely. She had that effect on people. Always had.

“Come in,” he said, reluctance in his voice. She'd definitely worn him down on her plan—and to be honest, she'd warned me. I knew what I was getting into here.

“Thanks.” I followed him into the house and through the hall to what looked like an office. Although I'd looked in most rooms when I was here last, this one had been locked. Now I knew why—it was Darien's.

“Make yourself comfortable. Coffee?” he asked, pausing in front of a machine.

“I'm good, thanks.” Coffee machine in his office. How much time did he spend in here?

He nodded, but didn't speak as he sat on the other side of his desk. He leaned forward and dug his fingers into his hair. Minutes passed in silence, and I didn't dare speak first.

I didn't have much, but I had respect for Darien. A part of me hated him for sneaking Adriana away that night. A part of me fucking hated him for keeping her hidden, although I understood why it was done. Ironically, I respected him for the very same reasons I hated him.

Because he'd taken her away. Because he'd kept her safe.

What better person to keep you safe from death than a man who'd delivered it to so many?

“She trusts you,” he said hoarsely. He slowly looked up and dropped his hands, and his dark eyes pierced mine. “And I think she's a fool, blinded by the past.”

“Maybe she is,” I agreed. “But that doesn't mean she's the only one.”

“I understand your role in the family. I was you, once.” He scratched his jaw. “I think you'd kill her tomorrow if a gun was put to your head. You're playing a dangerous game, Carlo. Russian Roulette isn't for the faint of heart.”

“Then it's a good thing my heart is made of stone.”

“Is it? She's alive. How can you say it's stone when you've had two chances to kill her and haven't?”

“Then why don't you trust me, Darien? You just said it yourself. Two chances, and I didn't.” I stood without breaking our gaze.

“Third. Time. Lucky.” He almost spat each word, slowly coming to stand himself. He leaned forward and grasped the edge of his desk with one hand. With the other, he opened a desk drawer and pulled out a 9mm pistol. He cocked the safety and pointed it at my head.

Reflexively, I pulled my own from my