Page 52 of Right Number, Wrong Man

HAILEY

It’s dark when I gather enough courage to sneak across the street and up the metal stairs to Colt’s apartment. Before I can think too much, I take a deep breath and knock.

High-pitched barking comes from inside. The door opens a slim crack and Gracie shoots out like a furry arrow. Tail wagging, she zooms around my feet. I catch her gently and cradle her in my arms, letting her lick my fingers while I pet under her chin.

Held-back tears burn my nose. I missed this little whirlwind so much.

“I’ll be right there, Cody!” Colt shouts from somewhere deep inside the apartment. “You’re early! Let me put on some damn pants before you barge in.”

A moment later he appears in the door, topless and barefoot. Heat fans across my face as I let my hungry gaze roam over his perfect body.

He wears a pair of old jeans and a towel dangles from his hand. A fresh bandage covers the bullet wound and with the healing cut on his face, he looks like an action hero.

He’s criminally handsome, even with dark bags under his bloodshot eyes like he hasn’t slept for days.

“I-It’s you,” Colt says, looking me up and down as if he can’t believe I’m real.

I dig my teeth into my bottom lip. “Hi…”

“Hi, Sugar,” he whispers, and even without the voice modulator, I hear Jax in his tone.

Now that I know it was him all along, it’s impossible to ignore the hints.

His stance. His movements. The tilt of his head.

But how does that saying go? Sometimes we only see what we want to see—and I wanted to see the masked Dom of my dreams, without complications.

And right now, I’m seeing Colt for the very first time. The real Colt. That contradictory, possessive mess of a man who’s been in love with me for sixteen years. That dominant, beautiful guy I’m in love with, too.

“How’s the bullet wound?” I ask.

“Alright. It’s my third time bein’ shot and I heal fast.” He points at the two faded scars I saw on Jax. “But I’ll wear this new scar as a badge of honor. It’s your mark.”

Silence stretches between us.

“It’s pretty rude to make a lady wait on your doorstep,” I say and smile. “Two ladies, actually,” I add, nodding at Gracie who has fallen asleep in my arms.

Colt flinches. “Right. Sorry! I was waiting for Cody. He was gonna help me pack while we have some beers and—” He laughs nervously, brushing a hand through his wet hair. “I just can’t believe you’re here. C’mon in.”

He gestures and I walk inside, squeezing past moving boxes marked for storage.

I’ve never been to his apartment, but I find myself impressed. This isn’t your typical, sparsely furnished bachelor’s pad with a mattress on the floor and beer crates as shelves.

The interior is a stylish mix of industrial and rustic, practical and aesthetic.

Exposed timber beams complement the high ceiling, brick walls, and wooden floors.

The loft features an open kitchen, a generously stocked bar, and a living space with a brown leather sofa across from a fireplace.

A TV hangs on the wall above, surrounded by hunting trophies.

I only get a glimpse at the upstairs area, but I spy a king-sized bed, a closet, a dresser, and a workspace. Another door, too, probably to the bathroom.

Gracie’s things stand out as dots of pink.

Her bowls in the kitchen, a basket under the coffee table, and toys scattered all over the floor.

The pink blanket with the cowboy boot print that Jax—I mean Colt wrapped me in in the hotel—has been turned into a makeshift doggy nest on the sofa.

There’s even a ramp so she can get up without straining her joints.

“Your apartment is gorgeous,” I say.

Colt smirks. “Thanks, but I reckon you ain’t here for a tour?”

Gracie squirms and I set her on the floor. She dashes to the sofa and over the ramp to curl up on the blanket, sighing.

“You’re really leaving?” I ask over the onset of quiet dog snores. “What about Gracie?”

“My folks are taking her. She’ll be happy there with the big garden and I’ll visit when I can.” He huffs, lips pursed. “I’ll miss her a lot, but I don’t think the little princess is cut out for the black ops life.”

His hesitant eyes meet mine and he looks like a boy again, but now I know him well enough to read his emotions. It isn’t hate. It never was .

It’s anxiety. Fear. Sadness.

“I’ll miss you more, though…” he adds quietly and my heart hurts.

Colt lets out a wry laugh, tossing the towel on the dining table. My eyes follow the movement, and I freeze when I see his rifle lying there—with a familiar charm hanging from it.

“ Cowgirl kitty ?” I walk to the table and run a finger over the scratched plastic figure. “ The cowgirl kitty I got from a gumball machine at the mall and carried on my bag in high school?”

“Aw, shit!” Colt curses at my back. “Yeah… That cowgirl kitty.”

I turn to him, shaking my head in disbelief. “I thought I lost her.”

He gives me a mischievous smile. “I stole her when you were at our house and left your bag unattended. Don’t be mad, Spitfire. Cowgirl kitty is my lucky charm and I credit her for keepin’ me alive through every mission. She’s been all over the world with me and Grace.”

My mouth falls open. “ Grace ?”

“Damn Colt! Stop fucking putting your fucking foot in your big fucking mouth,” he mumbles to himself and I swallow a laugh. He glances at me, wincing. “I might have named my rifle after you…”

He named his rifle and his dog after me.

Everything he loves or cares about has my name?

The tense atmosphere sucks the air from my lungs. I don’t know where to start, so I start at the beginning. The easiest part.

“I saw your message on the marquee. Hard to miss, really. Very Hallmark.”

Colt blushes a deep pink. “Sorry if that was too public. Since I don’t use social media, I forgot how people get with all the viral shit.

I didn’t want to pressure you to respond, but when you refused to take my calls or read my letter, I didn’t know what to do.

I couldn’t leave without you knowin’ how I feel. ”

I cross my arms. “What was in the letter even?”

“Just my feelings… and the deed for this building. In your name.” He waves a hand. “No big deal. The feelings are still the same. And I’ll get a new deed for you.”

“You want me to have the Retro Reel and your apartment?” I squeak.

“That was always the plan.”

“God, I—Fuck.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Listen. I need the truth. All of it, about everything. After Mike’s betrayal, I can’t stand being lied to again.”

“No more lies. Ever. You have my word, Spitfire. Thank you for coming here and giving me a chance to make things right.”

Colt gives me a small smile and reaches for my hand. His palms enclose mine in warmth, and it’s like being touched by sunshine, chasing away the storm clouds that settled behind my ribs since our fight.

“Then start with Justin. I want to know what happened to him,” I demand.

“Cody and I took him to Dad’s old huntin’ cabin. There, I tied him up in the basement and tortured him to death for wanting to hurt you. We sawed his body into pieces and dissolved them in acid.”

My heart pitter-patters. Wow, that sounded way more romantic than it should have.

“Did you find out anything more? Like… why he picked me?” I ask, internally telling the butterflies in my belly to cool it.

“Beyond your extraordinary beauty, I couldn’t take a guess why he chose you. ”

“Flattery will get you nowhere tonight,” I warn, but a grin sneaks across my face.

“We did find a book in his bag, belonging to one Elizabeth Mary Burns from Ohio. Cody did some diggin’.

She lived with her older brother way out in the countryside.

When she didn’t turn up to work as a hotel cleaning lady, the cops did a wellness check and found her at home, stabbed to death with her eyes missing.

The brother had hung himself in another room, but his fingerprints didn’t match the knife.

Her killer was never found. There was evidence of a teenager living in the house, but no birth records and?—”

“You’re not saying what I think you’re saying, right?” I cut in, nauseated. “He said his father killed himself after his mother cheated. That means she was his first victim and… Oh God?— ”

Colt nods solemnly. “Yeah, Justin was a whole sandwich. No wonder he wasn’t all good in the head. That’s another reason why I wanted to spare you the gruesome details.”

“Wait, a sandwich?”

His brows waggle. “Inbred, get it? In bread… it’s a wordplay.”

I shove my elbow into Colt’s ribs, hiding my laugh in exasperation. “Inappropriate!”

His face falls. “But there’s somethin’ else you don’t know.”

My stomach twists into knots. “So there are more lies.”

“Yeah, and this might be the worst of ‘em…”