Page 64 of Violent Little Thing

Denver.

You couldn’t see him because of the positioning of the cameras, but you had a clear view of Chris’s face.

He looked pissed and terrified.

“Another one?” Chris gasped. “My god, how many men?”

“Does he think that she’s seeing multiple men?” Noe asked.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “This is the same schmuck that I was telling you about. We are ‘fake dating’ because of him.”

“I know she’s in there. I want to talk to her!”

“You’re not talking to her,” Denver declared. “But you can talk to me.” Denver sounded murderous. “How about you tell me how you knew she was here.”

“Good fucking question,” I growled.

Chris looked panicked for a long second before he said, “I followed her.”

“Liar,” Noe murmured.

I agreed.

“Where’d you plant the tracker?”

Chris shook his head, but the panic was back.

“In her purse?” Denver asked.

Chris turned to leave, but Denver stepped off the porch and made his way to the man that was quickly making his way to his car.

Denver caught him by the scruff of the neck and said, “Where is it?”

Chris winced at the hold Denver had on him.

“It’s in her purse!”

Denver started to let him go but not fast enough for Chris to think that he was going to keep torturing him—if you could call being held by the scruff of the neck torturing.

“And in her tennis shoes!”

What the fuck?

Denver tightened his hold again.

“And the last one is in her favorite hair clip.”

I watched as a hair clip got slung out of the front door and landed with a thunk against the front walk.

A few seconds later, a pair of tennis shoes followed it.

Denver shoved Chris down to his knees and pulled out his phone. “Black,” he said. “Need you at Court’s place.”

Charleigh’s entire purse hit the ground at Chris’s feet. “Get it out of my purse!”

Denver dumped the purse on the ground, and Charleigh’s handgun followed.

Chris reached for it, but Denver stomped on his hand before he could get more than an inch away from it.