His Regret by Bella J.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The next morning,Hunter was sitting at the kitchen counter, working on one of the six laptops Adam had stashed away at his beach house. Who the fuck had six laptops at a damn beach house?
He stared at the screen in front of him. Of all the things he needed to look into, like where to find Brent Wolfe and kill the motherfucker, he decided to research the symbol tattooed on the inside of Scarlet’s thigh.
He stared at the symbol on the screen. Survivor. The symbol on her inner thigh meant survivor. It was fucking perfect. Scarlet was a survivor—a strong, brave, beautiful survivor.
Last night, Scarlet had finally started to open up about her past, to let him in, and it was just as he had suspected. The son of bitch had stolen from Scarlet the one thing no man ever had the right to take from a woman. Her soul.
While she was talking, all Hunter could see was this filthy piece of shit’s hands all over her, touching her while she screamed, cried, wailed. Just to think about how helpless she had to have felt, how scared she had to have been was enough to make him want to hunt the fucker down and slice off his dick piece by fucking piece and then shove it down his throat. And to think that Hunter had actually put his PI skills to use in finding her with the intention of taking her back to him—her supposed family. Fuck, it made him sick.
And then, in typical Scarlet fashion, she had somehow managed to shift the conversation to him and his problems. That didn’t sit well with him at all. Hunter had never told anyone about Blue. Not even his best friends. Back then, he was so in love with her, so infatuated by her, that he didn’t want to share her with anyone. He was too selfish and needed her all to himself. A part of him was thankful he had been such a selfish bastard back then. Now that she was gone, all he had of her was the memories. Memories that both consoled and tortured him at the same time. They were going to run away, start a new life together. There was no need for anyone to know—especially after she was ripped from his life so abruptly, so painfully. Needless to say that after her death, there was no reason at all for him to share that part of his life with anyone. It was his burden to bear, and he wanted to bear it alone.
So when Scarlet started to ask questions, he had to fight the urge to close down. The need to build up that damn wall she had managed to bring down little by little was overwhelming. Like a survival instinct that kicked in. Blue was not something he wanted to talk about—ever. Fuck. If he had a choice, he would have chosen to never even think about her again, to erase the memory of her altogether. There was an age old saying, “It’s better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.” That was a very good example of how full of shit all the age old sayings were. That was a bunch of horse crap, and if Hunter had to ever meet the stupid fuck who came up with that bullshit, he would kick him in the balls.
“Hey.”
He lifted his head and saw Scarlet standing beautifully naked by the end of the counter. The confidence this woman had was fucking amazing. And it totally turned him on.
He leaned back in his chair. “Hey. You okay?”
“I’m more than okay.” With her curvy hips, firm tits, and seductive smile, she sashayed over to him, pushed the laptop to the side, and got onto the counter, placing her legs on either side of him.
His gaze dropped to the smooth, beautiful, glistening piece of heaven he had tasted, felt, and claimed a few times over the last few days. His cock stirred in his pants, and he knew it was only a matter of minutes before he would bury himself in that little piece of heaven she so expertly teased him with.
“Scarlet Woods,” he started, and gripped her hips, pulling her to the edge of the counter, closer to him. “Why do I get the feeling you’ve become addicted to me?” He winked at her.
“Oh, no, Ace, don’t flatter yourself. It’s your cock I’ve become addicted to. Not you.” She winked back in challenge, then leaned forward and placed her hand on his cock, stroking and rubbing. “And I need my fix.”
The ache grew stronger with every stroke of her hand. Even through his pants it felt like she could rub him into coming within minutes.
He licked his lips before tracing kisses over her collarbone, softly tugging on one of her nipples. “Soon, kitten.”
Fuck, he wanted to take each nipple in his mouth and suck them until she climaxed from that alone. But before he could ravish her, devour her, and fuck her senseless, he had a few more things he needed to check out. He placed his hand over hers and pulled it away from his crotch. “But first I need to look into something. And then we’ll play.”
Those gorgeous, enticingly full, heart-shaped lips turned into the sexiest pout Hunter had ever seen. “But kitten wants to play now.”
“Well, kitten will have to wait. Why don’t you cook us some breakfast—naked?” Oh, now that was a sight Hunter would pay some good money to see.
Scarlet frowned. “I don’t cook.”
“Pretend that you do. I won’t be paying much attention to what you’re cooking anyway since my eyes will be glued to your ass and tits the entire time.”
“Pervert much?”
“Does it turn you on?”
“Totally.”
Hunter snickered and pulled the laptop closer when Scarlet finally removed her fine-looking ass from in front of him.
While he heard Scarlet opening and closing the fridge and cabinets, Hunter started looking into Brent Wolfe’s background.
“What are you searching for anyway?”
Without taking his eyes off the laptop screen, he answered, “Brent Wolfe.”
The sound of a coffee mug being dropped onto the counter echoed through the kitchen. He looked up and saw her standing with her back to him, frozen to the spot.
“Why?” she asked softly without looking at him.
“Scar, the only way to make sure he doesn’t ever find you is if we—if I—find him first.”
“I don’t want you to go looking for him, Hunter.”
“I know. But it’s the only way. Trust me.”
Scarlet turned around and basically dropped a bowl of cereal in front of him. “Why now? Why didn’t you look into his background when you accepted the job in finding his long lost cousin?”
Hunter leaned back in the chair. “I did. All I found was info on his Marine career. Nothing else. Nothing about his family—your family. It was like this guy didn’t exist apart from being a Marine.”
“And you didn’t think that was suspicious at all?”
“No, I didn’t. A lot of high class clients pay a lot of money to keep their lives a secret. It wasn’t my job to dissect this asshole’s past back then, Scar.”
“Of course it wasn’t. Your job was to find me and take me back to my loving cousin, wasn’t it?” She slanted her head to the side, long dark hair falling over her shoulder, blue eyes burning with anger…fear.
Hunter moved the laptop aside and leaned over the counter on his elbows. “Yes. That was my job. And you know what? I’m fucking glad I did. I don’t regret finding you for a second.”
The palpable atmosphere was so intense he could feel it inside his bones. Scarlet didn’t move, her eyes locked on his. There was no predicting what her next move would be—to kiss him or punch him in the face. But it was neither.
Leaving her bowl of cereal on the counter, she turned her back on him and walked out to the deck.
He wanted to go after her, but decided to give her some time alone. A lot had happened during the last few days which she obviously needed to deal with—him too.
A part of him understood why she didn’t want to go looking for Brent, but Hunter knew the only way to get rid of a problem was by facing it head on and dealing with it once and for all. And the fact that he wanted to punish the asshole in the most unimaginable ways had nothing to with it—at all.
That sixth sense Hunter seemed to have ninety-nine percent of the time was urging—no, begging—him to dig deeper. Somehow, Hunter didn’t believe Brent wanting to protect his inheritance was the only reason the fucker spent years searching for her. And the guy whose face he almost squashed into the pavement that night at the club, Blow Me, his words stuck like glue in Hunter’s head,
“All I know is that he’s been searching for her for years and not a day goes by that he doesn’t stare at this one picture he has of her. It’s fucking creepy.”
Why would he be staring at a picture of Scarlet every damn day? Something just didn’t add up. And whenever Hunter wasn’t able to make sense of something, he made it his life’s mission to figure it out. But now that he had a personal interest in this, the need to get to the bottom of it all just skyrocketed. He needed to find this son of a bitch, and he needed to find him now.
