Page 22 of Shattered King

“Where are we going?” I tried again.

He started the engine and turned on the radio. I guess that meant he wanted me to shut up, that I’d find out when we got there. It took a while before we left the forest-lined road and hit the freeway. I didn’t recognize where we were, had no idea if he was taking me back to the city or somewhere else. Finally, after driving for about an hour, I started to recognize some familiar landmarks.

We were going back.

I wanted to ask if he was taking me to Sara. If he was letting me go. But I kept my mouth shut. The vibe coming off him did not invite conversation. Those fingers had been gripping the steering wheel in the same white-knuckled grip he’d had on the drive to the cabin.

I found out fifteen minutes later that he didn’t intend to take me to my aunt’s or to my car. Instead, we drove into an underground parking lot and pulled into a reserved spot. His name was painted on the wall.

I knew where we were.

And I sure as hell did not want to be here.

Shit.

My hand automatically went to the door handle and I yanked, forgetting it was locked in my panic. Hunter ignored my obvious distress and climbed out, leaving me trapped inside. He walked around to open my door. His fingers curled around my biceps when I climbed out, and he led me to the elevator.

I wanted to shrink into nothing, dissolve. The last person I wanted to see was Hunter’s brother Van. We’d always gotten along. He’d liked me, but most of all liked me with his baby brother. I’m sure he felt I’d betrayed him, too.

We climbed in and the door slid shut. Hunter hit the fifth floor and we rocketed up, toward my doom. “Why did you bring me here? Just take me home, goddammit.”

“You’re here because I want you to be here. And you’ll go home when I say you can.” His voice was flat, back to emotionless and cold. He’d regained complete control, that intense vibe coming off him in the car gone, along with every other emotion.

“Will you let me use the phone?” I didn’t need to mention Josh to my aunt during the call. If Hunter had his people listening in, I’d have to be careful, but I had to warn her. “I just want to call my aunt.” I thrust my hand into my hair, frustrated and scared shitless for my son. God, if my mom had told Pierce about my visit to the hospital, if Pierce found out about Josh . . .

I didn’t want that bastard anywhere near my little boy.

Hunter didn’t answer.

The anxiety sitting low in my belly, burned away with my rising anger. I wasn’t just scared, I was pissed the hell off.

Then the doors slid open.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Of course Van was standing at the reception desk, talking to the woman sitting behind it, when we walked in. She spotted me first. Shoving her black-framed glasses higher on her nose, she took me in from head to toe. I knew I looked like shit. Like I’d just rolled out of bed and, the way her eyes flared at the sight of me, as if I’d been recently fucked by the cold bastard beside me. Fantastic.

She dropped the pen in her hand. “Holy fuck, what the hell did you do to her?”

Van spun around, gaze locking on me instantly, slicing me from head to toe with a lethal glare. He looked at his brother for a few beats then back to me. Yeah, he did not look happy to see me, not one bit. The feeling was mutual.

Van glanced at his receptionist, still eyeballing me from behind her desk. “Ruby, take her downstairs, clean her head, and give her some food.”

The door opened across the room and Neco Malik walked in. Perfect. This day was just getting better and better. Tall and gorgeous with unusual green eyes and beautiful dark skin, Neco was a head-turner. He was also Hunter’s best friend. Which meant he knew me, knew what I’d done, and was another member of the I Hate Lulu Fan Club.

The door clicked shut behind him. He pulled up short when he saw me. “Fuck,” he said under his breath.

He managed to convey a whole hell of a lot in that one word. None of it was good, and all of it made me want to crawl under the reception desk and disappear. That just made me angrier. They thought they had my number, thought they had the whole story. What they didn’t know was their story was missing a few vital pieces of information. Information I wasn’t willing to give. Not if I wanted to keep Josh a secret, keep him safe. Anyway, they wouldn’t believe me at this point. The wound cut too deep, too much time had passed. And honestly, I was getting sick to death of this shit. After the last couple of days I’d had—packing up and driving eleven hours to get to Sara’s, saying goodbye to my mom, being kidnapped and held against my will, worrying about my son—I was ready to explode, completely goddamn lose it.

If it weren’t for me, Hunter would be dead. No one felt worse than me about what happened to him or what he went through. But I’d lived my own hell for the last three fucking years.

I forced a tight smile. “Nice to see you, too, Neco.”

He crossed his arms over his wide chest. “Are you fucking serious?”

Jesus. “What do you think?” I quipped, too angry now to hold my tongue.

He growled, an honest to God growl and shook his head slowly. His lip curled and he gave me a head to toe like Van just had, and his expression told me he found me lacking in every way he possibly could. These guys truly were masters at making me feel like the dog-shit they’d just stepped in. And yeah, I got it.