Home > Books > Hunting Adeline (Cat and Mouse Duet #2)(98)

Hunting Adeline (Cat and Mouse Duet #2)(98)

Author:H. D. Carlton

I don’t know why Addie had asked me to rescue Rio’s sister, only that it was important to her that I do. Katerina is a fifteen-year-old girl who was enslaved to a wicked woman. Regardless of who her brother is—and how badly I want to kill him—she’s not responsible for her brother’s sins and needed saving.

Caught up with Addie and getting her settled, I sent Michael and another one of my mercenaries to take care of it. If it wasn’t for Addie insisting Katerina was by a sunflower field, it might’ve taken a lot longer to find her, but they were able to track her down within a couple of days and get her out of there. Unlike Addie, they didn't go through great lengths to keep her hidden.

Now, she’s in one of my safe houses, getting treatment for her extensive trauma.

“Her brother still attempting to hide?”

Jay gives me a look. “You know he is. He's still in Arizona.” When I nod, he hikes a thumb over his shoulder and says, “I’m going to head out. Let her know I’m thinking about her.”

He casts another glance at the living room, sweeping his eyes over every nook and cranny as if a spirit is going to be standing there staring at him.

I can feel the eyes on my back, but whoever they are, they aren’t making themselves known. Jay turns and softly shuts the door behind him, while a cold draft brushes across the back of my neck.

Ignoring the phantom, I head upstairs to check on my girl. Her mother left only an hour ago, and she tends to take naps after those visits.

The first time meeting Serena Reilly was… interesting. Addie never told her about me—which I had expected, considering their relationship was in shambles long before I came along. And regardless of the fact that I found her daughter, her spidey senses are tingling, and she is sensing just how dangerous I am.

She’s not wrong.

Cracking open the door, I peer inside, finding Addie sitting up, balancing her journal on her knee as she scribbles in it like she can’t get the words out fast enough. A shot of relief floods my system. Today seems to be a good day for her—as good as it’s capable of being.

She doesn’t acknowledge me, so I lean against the doorframe, content with watching her write. The balcony doors are cracked open, letting in the cool, fresh air. It’s freezing in here, but it doesn’t seem like she notices.

Over the last few days, she’s been writing in that journal more often. I’m not sure where it came from, but it’s her lifeline, and it seems to be helping her. Dr. Maybell recommends journaling and shit all the time with the girls I rescue. Better than bottling up all those emotions and letting them fester and eat away at them slowly.

After a few more minutes, she grabs a tube of lipstick, blindly applies it to her plump lips, then smacks a kiss on the journal. Glancing at me, she snaps the journal shut, sets it on the nightstand, and grabs a tissue to wipe off the crimson stain on her mouth, finally meeting my eyes.

“I see you’re still creepy,” she comments dryly, crumbling the tissue up and tossing it on the table beside her.

I grin and slowly approach her. She visibly tenses, so I sit at the end of the bed and give her space.

I’m all for pushing Addie’s boundaries, but this isn’t one I’m willing to. Despite my less than honorable methods with her in the past, the last thing I want to do is worsen her trauma. She’s been through enough; she doesn’t need another self-serving man taking something from her that she’s not willing to give.

When she’s ready to accept me again, I can’t promise I won’t push her past her comfort zone and work to reawaken a part of her I’m sure she feels is lost.

But that takes time and trust.

And I’m a very patient man.

“Forever and always, baby,” I murmur, shooting her a roguish grin. It feels like my heart explodes when she offers a small smile in return.

That small gesture feels like she just handed me the entire fucking world in her tiny palms.

“Jay got you roses,” I tell her, handing her the bouquet. Her hand curls around the stems, and she sniffs the petals.

“That was sweet of him. I probably should’ve met him… He’s your friend, and he helped save both of our lives. I need to thank him personally,” she says, her brows knitted with guilt.

I had given her a brief rundown of what happened the night of the ritual—how Jay realized the Society set me up and came to warn me. He was stationed in a van a block away in case shit went awry and we needed a quick escape, but by the time he got to me, the bomb had already gone off. But I haven't told her who the Society is yet, and she hasn’t seemed inclined to get into it.