Seeking Redemption by Summers Eden

Author:Summers, Eden
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-06-25T00:00:00+00:00

40

MATTHEW

I help Layla into the back of the Lincoln then climb into shotgun while Bishop takes the wheel.

She’s safe for now. At least from herself. She can’t escape again with the child lock on both doors. But my threat toward her is a different matter.

I want to throttle her. To shake and scold until she understands exactly how stupid it was to run from me.

“Ready?” Bishop shifts into drive. “I don’t think we’re going to leave the alley without being seen.”

I know, and I have no clue what Salvo will do about it. Give chase? Give up? Who fucking knows with that asshole.

“Slam your foot down and don’t stop until you lose him.” I glance to Layla in the back seat. “Put your seatbelt on.”

She does as instructed, her frantic eyes meeting mine. “What about the phone call?”

“Later.”

“Later? That wasn’t the deal.”

“We’re kinda busy here, amore mio.” I turn my attention to the side mirror as Bishop inches forward, my focus on the closed window we climbed out of more than a few yards back. “If we’re lucky, Salvatore and Remy will be searching one of the hotel rooms when we pass.”

They know she’s around here somewhere. In this suburb. Abri told me as much after the city search failed and I was forced to bribe my own damn sister.

“Evidently, we’re shit out of luck.” Bishop rolls the Lincoln to a stop.

“Why?” I raise my gaze to the alley, my pulse kicking at the sleek town car slowly approaching to block our exit.

“Want me to blow this pop stand in reverse?”

“That’s Cole.” Layla releases her belt and tugs at the door handle only to have it deny her freedom. “Let me out.”

“I need to speak with him first.” I shoot Bishop a hard look and shove from the car. “Keep her inside until I return and make sure you watch the back of those hotel rooms.”

“No, take me with you,” she demands. “He’ll kill you.”

I ignore her, unsure if her intent is to intimidate or warn, and close the door behind me to stride ahead. She shouts for me to stop, the muted calls trapped behind closed windows and smothered by heavy traffic, but her suffering punishes me all the same.

I’m sure I’ve got nothing to worry about, though.

Cole is smart enough to pause his trigger finger when his sister is still trapped in my car. I’m banking my fucking life on it as I continue forward, the two men seated in the car before me glowering, the driver lacking subtlety when he casually rests his gun on top of the steering wheel.

I stop a few yards from the hood, watching them talk, the conversation seeming relaxed as fuck.

I’d do the same—fake self-assurance in the face of my enemy. But from what I’ve learned about the infamous Cole Torian, we’re different in almost every other aspect.

To me, death is a transaction—clinical and cold.

He sees it as a game—thrilling and ego-boosting.

I have confidence he won’t shoot me before he has the chance to taunt me first.

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