Page 50 of Hunted (Desert Island Duet #2)

Chapter thirty-two

Darla

“ A re you always thinking about food?” I ask Bower as I pull my clothing back on.

His eyes grow heated as he looks at me. “What can I say? I’m insatiable.” His words have my entire body blushing, and I look away, readjusting my dress into place.

“Okay,” he says, slapping his hands together, changing the subject, and thankfully distracting everyone from my embarrassment.

“So…. who’s cooking?” The guys glance around at each other, and I know that none of them want to cook.

My experience is only with freshly caught food, so I’m not much help, either.

“Mrs. G probably left us some grub,” Bower says, moving to check the fridge. “Bingo!” He stands up, pulling a large casserole dish from the fridge and proceeds to read the instructions to cook in the oven for thirty minutes.

I take a seat on the couch and drop my head back, staring at the ceiling while my hand drifts to my necklace and I take a minute to breathe.

I can’t believe how much sex I’ve had today—and I haven’t even eaten breakfast yet!

Was this what my life was going to be like from now on, living with these four men? A slow grin pulls at my lips.

Yeah, I could get used to this.

It feels surreal that everything is out in the open now.

I knew I would never willingly tell them about that final important detail of what happened to me on the island, four months after I killed those men.

But now they know, and they aren’t treating me any differently, it’s as if a giant weight has lifted off my chest.

Now if only those agents could catch Frank.

“Hey, Darla?” Kingsley says, pulling me out of my thoughts as I lift my head and open my eyes. He’s holding a big gift bag out to me, and I sit up immediately.

“What’s this?” I ask, reaching out and pulling the bag into my lap.

“It’s a gift for you.”

“A gift? Why?”

“Why not?” Bower says, throwing himself on the couch beside me with a gift bag of his own.

“Uhhh….” I trail off, staring at it. “I don’t think it’s my birthday for another couple months.”

“You’ve missed a lot of birthdays and Christmases and many other holidays, so don't be surprised if we try to make up for it now,” Reece says, sipping from a fresh cup of coffee as he sits down beside me.

“But we thought we could at least be fair about it, so you don’t get favorites, so if one of us wants to give you something, all four of us do,” Kingsley says, tapping the edge of the bag he’s given me with the tip of his finger.

I sniffle as I try not to get emotional. “You guys… I don't deserve you,” I mumble as I drop my head and peek into the bag .

“You deserve more than we can ever give you, but we sure as shit are gonna try,” Weston says, as he comes in holding a bag of his own.

“I already gave you mine,” Reece says, giving me a wink as he runs a finger under my blue bra strap. Right, the panties and bras he gave me this morning.

“Open it,” Kingsley says, shoving his hands in his pockets and biting his lip with a mixture of excitement and worry.

I reach in and fumble around the tissue paper until I can find the gift and pull it out. “It’s a tennis racket!” It’s in a custom fitted bag, but the shape is obvious. Reece pulls the empty bag away, and I lay it on my lap and unzip it, revealing a beautiful pink racket.

“I haven’t played in so long, you’ll teach me?” I ask Kingsley hopefully.

“I was counting on it. None of these twats will ever play with me. I need a permanent tennis partner, you think you’re up for it?”

Permanent? I like the sound of that.

I nod quickly. “I’d love that, and I love this. Thank you, Kingsley.” I stand up and he bends down and kisses me. Someone grabs the back of my dress and pulls me back down to the couch before it can get too heated.

Kingsley sits on the coffee table beside Weston, both facing me as Bower shoves his gift into my lap. “Mine next!” he says excitedly.

Reece pulls the tennis racket away, closing it back in its bag to give me some room.

“Hmm, let me guess, you got me food?” I ask Bower with a raised eyebrow.

“Nope, not even close.”

I reach in and my fingers graze some sort of soft yet firm material. Pulling it out, I realize it’s a bag .

“It’s like a purse, but it goes across your body, like your old one. I’m told this is very stylish.”

“Hazel?” I ask, knowing his sort-of-sister most likely had to tell him what was in style for women.

“Yeah, I made sure it was big enough to fit Steve and McStabby and it even has a pocket—right here—for your cell phone.”

I run my fingers over the soft brown leather before I smile at him. “It’s perfect, thank you, Bower.” I lean over and give him a quick kiss and a hug. Then I pull it over my head, and he passes me Steve, who was on the side table. I place him in my bag and zip it up.

“Perfect!” I exclaim, feeling his heavy, comforting presence against my chest.

When I pull back, he takes the bag from me, and Weston drops his into my lap. I pull out a pink and purple plaid blanket.

“This weekend, we’re going to take you on a date,” Weston says, surprising me.

“We’ll start by going ax throwing. Reece rented out the entire place, so we’ll be the only people there.

Then we’re going to go see a movie. Again we’ll have the place to ourselves.

And finally, we’ll come back here, and you and I are going to lay on that in the backyard and do some stargazing. ”

I hug the blanket to my chest, unable to keep the smile off my face at everything he described. “Sounds perfect.”

I stand up and move over to him, then bend down and kiss him. He doesn’t let me pull away after a few seconds, making me laugh against him. But eventually he leans back and kisses the tip of my nose. “Thanks, Weston.”

“Of course, baby. Anything to see that smile on your face. ”

The oven beeps and we all move to the kitchen as Bower serves us the breakfast casserole dish, even if it is more of a lunch now. As we’re finishing up, Reece’s phone buzzes.

“My dad is texting me… I’m supposed to go see him. Better get it over with.” He pushes his chair back and stands up, moving around to me and giving me a quick kiss goodbye. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“You’re not going alone, are you? You remember there is still someone out there, trying to hurt us?”

“I have three security guards going with me. There will be five around the property here, keeping watch.” He squeezes my shoulder as he looks at the others. “Keep her safe, I won’t be long.”

“Like you have to ask,” Weston grumbles, rolling his eyes.

“Come back in one piece, okay? And soon.” I don’t really like him going out alone, but after the morning we shared, I’m feeling a little extra clingy, and from the look in his eyes, I think he wants to leave even less than I want him to.

“Love you, darling, see you soon.” He kisses the top of my head, then heads towards the front door. I hear it open and close and let out a deep sigh.

“He’ll be fine, Tink.”

“I know… it’s just… we haven’t really been apart since we’ve been back. Maybe one of you should go, too?”

“You heard him, he has three security guards going with him. He’ll be perfectly safe.”

I nod, knowing all of that’s true, but hating being apart from him. I just wanted all of us to stay locked up in this house together, forever. Is that too much to ask ?

“West, is that four-wheeler fixed yet? We could take that for a spin if it is,” Bower asks.

“No, I’m still working on it,” Weston grumbles. We spend the next few minutes listening to him explain why a fuel-injected engine is harder to repair than a carbureted one.

He gets super into it, and I decide I love hearing him talk about something he’s clearly passionate about. When he finally stops to take a sip of water, I ask, “Will you let me drive it? When it’s done?”

He narrows his eyes at me for a moment as he contemplates his answer. “I’ll take you for a ride first, and then, if you—

Suddenly, the room explodes. Or more accurately, the back of the house does. A resonating boom fills the air as debris flies towards us.

Weston, who’s sitting closest to me, pushes me to the floor and throws himself on top of me as glass and bricks and who knows what else, rain down around us.

Everything around me falls silent, replaced by the sharp, high-pitched ringing in my ears. I can faintly hear men yelling and I tense up, gripping Weston’s shirt tightly in fear.

Have they come to finish us off?

Because that was clearly a bomb that just went off, taking out our kitchen.

The voices get louder until one starts to become familiar.

“DARLA!”

“Reece?” I murmur into Weston’s chest. Finally, he moves to his knees, his hands and eyes scanning my body.

“Are you hurt?”

“Are you ?!” I notice a little bit of blood trickling down his arm, and he wipes some from my forehead .

“Darla!” I look over at what used to be the back wall of the kitchen and see Reece yank his arm out of the hold of one of the security guards, before he runs in, stepping over obstacles as he takes a zig-zag path towards us.

I quickly look around and see Bower and Kingsley getting to their feet as they dust themselves off. Weston helps me stand and when I finally get a look at all three of them from all sides, I feel a little bit of tension fade. Nobody was seriously injured. Just some small cuts and scrapes.

“Fuck, Darla, are you okay? Are any of you hurt?” Reece asks, gently pulling me in for a hug.

“A little startled, but I think we’re alright,” Kingsley answers for us.

“What the fuck happened? I was still in the driveway when I heard the explosion.”

“Mr. Benson! With all due respect, can you five please get out of that building before it collapses on you?” The head of security chastises Reece, and I look around, seeing the extent of the damage. He’s probably right, this part of the house is definitely not stable anymore.