A rookie fucking mistake. Idiot.
“You burnt down my gyms because you wanted to get to Kat,” I mutter.
“Bingo,” Omar laughs.
“After all these years,” Kat hisses. “Why can’t you just leave me alone? And don’t expect me to believe your twisted lies about Rusty.”
“Oh, Kat,” Omar sighs. “I’ve had Rusty this whole time.”
“You’re a liar,” she cries.
“It was a mess, that night. I get your location from one of my street contacts, and I rock up to the halfway house, and do you know what, they wouldn’t let old Omar in? So I had to improvise, didn’t I? I got a dog toy and I got it squeaking and, well, your stupid dog came running. He’s become quite a faithful hound, actually. I think you’ll find he’s completely forgotten you.”
“Proof, Omar,” I snarl, hating the tears that whelm in my princess’s eyes and illume the dark with their reflections. “Or you can shut your fucking mouth.”
He sighs in a world-weary way, as though he’s above such paltry things as supplying proof.
“Okay, Mr. Billionaire, but only because you asked so nicely. Give me a second. Here, Rusty, there’s a good boy. Pose for Daddy.”
“You sick fuck,” Kat whispers, grinding her teeth, digging her fingernails into my palm in her rage.
A moment later, the phone screen blinks and Kat swipes at it with her free hand.
Her gasp tells me everything I need to know, sending urgent protective instincts through me, the sight of the heartache capturing her bringing me back into war-mode, to the Colton I was before she strutted into my life and shattered the paradigm.
Jesus, was that really just a couple of days ago? So much has changed since then. But when you know, you fucking know.
The dog’s snowy hair is matted and brown, overgrown, and there’s a sadness in his eyes that stabs me in the gut and makes me think of Scrappy.
“That’s him,” Kat whispers, looking at me, tears glistening in her eyes. “That’s Rusty.”
“Of course it is,” Omar cackles madly. “I was going to use him to lure you out sooner, my pretty little Kat, but you did a good job of hiding yourself. Not so when you swaggered into the offices of a certain CEO. You see, Omar has eyes everywhere. And it’s all turned out for the best, anyway.”
“What do you want?” I growl. “Money? Is that it?”
“Well, we’ll get to that,” Omar says. “But firstly I’d like you and the lovely lady to come and meet me—alone, unarmed. I don’t need to tell you what happens to stupid little Rusty here if you bring company or a weapon, do I? I’ll send you the address. Bye-bye … see you soon.”
He hangs up and I fold Kat into my arms, squeezing her with every shielding instinct I have as she sobs into my chest.
The phone blinks again with a text.
The address.
She picks it up as I smooth her tears away, and then she folds her hand over mine and holds the phone in her other.
She laughs bitterly.
“Where is it?” I ask.
“The orphanage,” she whispers dully. “Where else would it be? It’s been abandoned for years. But I guess tonight it isn’t.”
“Kat,” I growl, holding her hand tightly. “I know you care about Rusty more than anything, but you need to let me go alone—”
“Colton,” she interjects. She leans forward so that our gazes sink into each other.
Her eyes sparkle with maternal conviction, and instinct fires in me as I realize what an incredible mother she’s going to make, protective and fierce, never backing down.
“If you go alone, he might hurt Rusty. I can’t take that risk. I know some people say dogs are just animals, just pets. But he was never that to me. I have to go. Please don’t fight me on this. If you care about me, you’ll understand.”
I sigh heavily.
“I do understand,” I whisper. “That’s what scares me so damn much. Because if something happened to you, I’d never be able to forgive myself.”The orphanage sits in the middle of a rundown parking lot, the sign faded with time and wind, the lot empty apart from a scurrying rat and dust blowing across the moonlit asphalt.
Kat walks slightly behind me, as I instructed her, keeping my body between her and the building at all times.
But even with this precaution, a strong urge rises inside of me to grab her and carry her away, despite her wishes, despite knowing it might mean the death of her beloved pet, her beloved friend.
And yet I know I won’t do that, can’t do that, because part of her belonging to me is knowing that her wishes matter just as much as mine. We’re partners, and I belong to her as much as she does to me.
We’ll face this.
Together.
I approach the front door, hanging off one hinge, my hand instinctively going for my gun before I remember that it isn’t there.