Page 53 of Hunted (Desert Island Duet #2)

“If she’s alive, The Danver’s Group goes back to her, and I knew she would eventually uncover the truth. But with you at the helm, I knew you’d continue to simply read those annual reports and believe everything was onboard.”

He was counting on my lack of competence to pull this off. And it had worked so far. If I hadn’t come in here looking for something else, I never would have stumbled across this. I would have gone on being ignorant.

I look down at the papers I’m still clutching. This is what he didn’t want to be found. That the Danver’s Group no longer exists, not really. All the companies have been sold, the employees gone. Now it’s just a front for human trafficking.

I look back up at my dad with a mixture of anger, frustration, betrayal, and hurt.

“I’m doing all of this for you.”

“For me?” I ask in disgust.

“Yes. I built all of this for you. It’s our legacy, Son,” he says with hope and determination filling his voice. Does he not know me at all? How can he think I’d be okay with human trafficking and multiple accounts of attempted murder ?

“What do you expect me to say? Okay, Dad, go ahead and kill the love of my life so you can continue to make money trafficking people. ” I say the last part with sarcasm as I look at him like he’s gone insane.

Which he has. He’s still standing there, completely calm, and looking at me like I’m a teenager throwing a tantrum.

When he continues to give me that unimpressed glare, my hands curl into fists of frustration, the papers crumpling in my palms.

“She’s just a girl. She’s hardly important,” he says with a roll of his eyes.

I take a menacing step towards him. I’ll rip his goddamned throat out. I can probably get away with calling it self-defense, I mean, what judge will put me in prison for killing the leader of a human trafficking organization?

He must see the intent in my eyes because he takes a few steps backwards, putting the armchair between us. “Now, Son. Think about this for a moment. If I die, the hit on Darla doesn’t die with me.”

That gives me pause. Is he lying to save his own skin?

“I made sure that she wouldn’t be around to distract you, even if something happened to me.”

“Distract me from what?!” I yell, throwing my hands in the air in frustration.

“From the business, from our legacy.”

“You really think I’m going to run a business with you that kidnaps and sells humans ?” He’s off his rocker. “Do you not know me at all?”

His brows pinch together as he watches me, like he’s truly seeing me for the first time. “Perhaps not.”

“Call off the hit.”

His eyebrow shoots up in surprise.

“I mean it. Right now. Pick up your phone and call off the hit. ”

“Or what?” he asks, pushing his hands in his pockets and leaning his hip on the chair, as if he doesn’t have a care in the world.

I grit my teeth in aggravation. “Or I call those agents and let them know who’s really behind this.” I was going to call them regardless, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“I wasn’t born yesterday, Son.” He calmly reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small gun. He keeps it low, but the barrel is pointed directly at me. The threat is clear. “What’s to stop you doing that after I make the call?” I should have expected him to call my bluff.

“Please,” I beg, trying to look less angry and more pleading. Part of him seems to still care about me. I hope it’s enough to keep his finger off the trigger. “What can I say to convince you to call off the hit on Darla?”

He presses his lips together in a thin line as his brows pinch together in thought. His eyes move down to the papers I’m still clutching, and he gestures to them with the gun. “Give those to me.”

Slowly, so as not to startle him, I step closer, stopping so the armchair is between us as I pass the papers over.

He quickly takes them with his free hand and shoves them roughly inside an inner pocket. “Now, get Darla to hand over the company to me, and I’ll call off the hit.”

“Done,” I say instantly. I don’t even have to think about it. He’s completely destroyed her family's company anyway. She wouldn’t want it.

“But she’ll sign it over to you. So your name is on the paperwork. If you try to take me down, you won’t see anything but the inside of a prison cell for a very long time.” The threat is clear and might actually work .

How would I prove that I wasn’t a part of this all along?

I’ve been working with my dad my whole life and although he tended to drive me crazy, we didn’t have a terrible relationship.

I’ve also not been the most pleasant person these past fifteen years.

Nobody would say they’re surprised I followed in my dad’s foot steps.

“Okay,” I say, nodding my head and seeing no other way out of this yet. “I’ll—”

“Reece! Guess wh—”

BANG!

My heart jumps in my chest, my wide eyes staring as Darla flies backwards and lands on her back, unmoving.

The room is completely silent for all of two seconds before I turn, step on the seat of the chair and launch myself over the back of it at my father.

I reach for his arm, still outstretched with the gun he just shot extended towards Darla.

He lands on his back, and I smash his hand into the hardwood floor several times until the gun flies out, sliding across the floor and out of his reach.

Straddling his chest, I raise my fist as his eyes go wide, “Son! No—” I don’t wait to hear what he has to say.

He’s done enough talking. I punch him twice until I hear his nose crunch under my fist and blood streams down his face.

He loses his fight and slumps down, so I quickly stand up, watching him to see if he’ll try to get away, but he doesn’t move.

I spin towards Darla and see her laying on the floor, unmoving. Fuck, please don’t be dead!

“Darla!” I cry, rushing to her side as my eyes scan her body to find where she’s been shot. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I whisper in panic. I’m so terrified I can’t seem to see straight. My body’s locked up, unable to figure out how to help her .

BANG!

I jerk in surprise from another gunshot, and lift my head to see the three people I want to see the most in this world, West, Bower and King, standing in the doorway to the office.

Bower and King are taking in the scene with wide eyes, while West has his arm raised with a gun pointed over my shoulder.

Spinning around, I see my father on the floor right behind me, and not where I left him on the other side of the room.

He’s moaning as he grips his shoulder and I see blood pouring from a wound there.

There’s a knife by his side and the picture suddenly comes together.

He literally tried to stab me in the back, and West shot him.

I turn back to him with wide eyes. “You saved me.”

I’ll admit I wasn’t keen on having Weston as a permanent part of Darla’s life in the beginning, but his loyalty and unwavering protection and commitment to not only her, but to our whole family, had changed my mind.

And the fact that he just saved my life by shooting my father, while managing not to instantly kill him, settles something in me.

It no longer feels like I simply tolerate him to keep Darla happy. Now I actively want Weston to be a part of our family. He belongs here just as much as the rest of us, if not more.

Bower gasps, breaking me out of my shock. “Zee!” Noticing her on the floor in front of me, he runs forward, dropping to her side with King and West.

“What happened?” King asks.

“He fucking shot her,” I growl, my eyes searching for the injury.

“Fuck!” Bower curses as the other two gasp in surprise .

We all start moving her limbs to find the injury. I even tilt her body to the side and frown at the clean floor. “Where’s the blood?” I ask in confusion.

Laying her on her back again, King checks her pulse as I scan the front of her for damage. “Her pulse is strong.”

My eyes catch on a small dark circle on the front of her new bag, which is currently sitting across her chest. I poke my finger at it. “It’s a bullet hole.”

Frowning in confusion, I lift the bag, and the weight surprises me, but there’s no blood underneath. “Help me get this off her,” I tell the others. We maneuver it over her arm and head so I can pull it into my lap. As King’s hands search her torso for injury, I unzip her bag and reach inside.

A humorless laugh escapes my throat as I pull out her rock, Steve, who’s now sporting a 9mm bullet in the middle of his name. I turn it to show the others and their eyebrows raise in surprise.

West quickly turns back to Darla and pulls her crop top all the way up to her neck. She’s wearing one of the new bras I bought her, but I can still clearly see the large bruise already forming between her breasts and on her upper abdomen.

I reach out to touch it, but West grabs my hand. “Don’t.” My eyes shoot to his in surprise. “She might have broken ribs and internal bleeding.”

My eyes widen in alarm, and I pull out my phone, dialing 911 as fast as I can.

I grab her hand and watch her face as I beg her, “Darla, don’t you dare leave me again.”

It feels like hours pass before paramedics and cops are flooding into the room, although I know it can’t be more than ten minutes. Darla doesn’t wake up once. Not even when they take her away on a stretcher, telling us what hospital they’re taking her to.

“I need to go with her,” I tell the others as I try to follow her out the door, but several hands hold me back.

“Reece, you gotta talk to the cops, man. None of us were here, we didn't see what happened,” Bower tells me. “I’ll go.” He doesn’t wait for a response before jogging after her.

I turn back into the room, my eyes narrowing in on where paramedics are patching up my father.

Two officers approach, their eyes scanning the scene. One of them steps forward and asks in a firm, professional tone, “What happened here?”

“My father, Richard Benson, he shot Darla.” I say angrily, pointing to where they're strapping him to a stretcher.

“Did you shoot him in retaliation?” The officer asks.

“What?”

“Are you sure you didn’t you shoot the girl, too?”

“What?” I ask in frustration and anger, gritting my teeth and trying to stay calm.

“I didn’t shoot anyone. My dad shot Darla, I knocked the gun out of his hand and punched him.

I thought he was unconscious, so I went to check on Darla.

” I pause, glancing at West. I don’t want him to get arrested, so I’m not sure what else to say.

“Who shot your father?”

“I did,” West states calmly, stepping up to my side.

The officer's eyes widen, as do mine as we stare at West’s stoic face.

“You’re admitting to shooting him?”

“I walked in and saw him about to stab Reece in the back.”

“We’re going to need you to come down to the station until we can work this all out,” one of the officers says, reaching for his cuffs as he eyes both me and West.

King places a supportive hand on my shoulder. “What seems to be the problem here, officers? We’d really like to be at the hospital when Darla wakes up.”

“Were you all here when the incident took place?” the officer asks, his eyes bouncing between the three of us.

“Weston, Bower and I arrived right after Darla had been shot, we saw Richard try to kill Reece, Weston saved his life. And there is no way Reece would have shot Darla, you’re wasting your time,” King says in defense.

“We’ll clear this up soon enough if you just come with us,” the officer persists.

“Give me your phone,” West says, holding his palm out to me. I frown at him, but the serious look on his face has me reaching into my pocket and dropping it in his hand.

He unlocks it, somehow knowing my password, and within a couple of seconds, he lifts it to his ear.

“Agent Stavros? It’s Weston Callahan. Richard Benson just shot Darla.

” There’s a pause before he continues. “We’re not sure, she’s been taken to the hospital.

Yes, I shot him when he tried to stab Reece…

Uh huh… Yeah, the hospital… The officers are trying to arrest Reece and myself, they think Reece shot Darla for some reason. ”

West nods his head, then holds the phone out to the officer. “He wants to talk to you.” He frowns down at it for a second before taking it.

“Yes? … Officer Lopez … No, I— ... Well, how do I know you—” He lets out a sigh as he turns his back to us and runs his hand through his hair. “Understood, sir.”

He turns around and passes the phone back to me, giving his partner an annoyed look. “That was Special Agent Stavros. Apparently, these men are all connected to a case his team has been working on. He said to secure the crime scene and let these three leave.”

Not needing to hear anymore, I pivot on my heel and head to the door with King and West right behind me. Time to go see our girl.