Chapter Twenty-Eight
Trent cursed himself for sleeping longer than he wanted. Loading his gun, he appraised the house once more.
He thought about barging in but decided to do things on the up and up. Marcus Hunt might be a cocksucker, but the man had more money than him and with money came connections. Chances were he knew the local cops and kept them on his side over the years. That, and he didn’t know what he’d be walking in to or if the house was still even his.
He looked at the clock. 11:59. Go time.
Climbing out of his truck, he wedged his gun in the back of his jeans and took the manicured path to the front door. Everything was the picture of suburban bliss here on 100 Happy Street. Even the doorbell gave the message that this was a safe and happy home. He gritted his teeth and rang twice.
The soft echo of movement inside had him stepping back and casually leaning his shoulder against the siding. The door opened and he masked his immediate relief. The motherfucker looked as harmless as Mr. Rodgers.
“Can I help you?”
Pleased he hadn’t immediately recognized him, Trent’s eyes narrowed and his head cocked to the side. “Is Chloe home?”
Hunt frowned but held his cool façade. “And who shall I say is calling?”
“You can tell her her ride’s here. I won’t take it personally that you forgot my name. By the way, it’s Trenton Cole.”
Marcus did a double take and his eyes lit with anger. Trent suffered a pinch of satisfaction at catching the bastard off guard. But his satisfaction vanished as the other man’s scowl twisted into a mealy grin.
“Ah, Mr. Cole. Do come in.”
Not the welcome he expected, but okay. Trent stepped into the house. His hand brushing over the butt of his gun.
Hunt led him to a typical, upper-class living room. “Have a seat. I’ll go get my wife.”
His jaw tightened. “I’ll stand.”
“Suit yourself.”
The second he was alone, he scanned the room, spotting a few outdated pictures of Chloe. Her hair was blonde back then, her eyes lifeless, a smile that wasn’t genuine. He took a quick glance into the hall to get a better layout of the inside of the house and turned at the sound of approaching footsteps. Any earlier relief withered at the sight of her.
The moment she saw him she gasped. “Trenton?”
Her lip trembled and she wasn’t blinking. The stiff way she held herself told him she was not okay, but he’d be an idiot to expect otherwise.
“I’m taking you home.”
“How is it you know this man, Chloe?”
Trenton ignored whatever game he was playing and kept his focus on Chloe. “We’re leaving. Where are Dayton and Mattie?”
Marcus settled into a chair as if he hadn’t a concern in the world. He didn’t interrupt or even so much as look at Chloe, who only stared unblinking.
“Doll, did you hear me? Where are the boys?”
Her chest lifted with quickened breath.
Marcus grinned, brow raised, confidence seeping from his pores. “Did you want to go with this man, darling?”
Her lips parted as her brow pinched. Her head twitched as if it was a difficult decision to make.
“Chloe, don’t look at him. Look at me. We’re going home. Where are—”
“I can’t,” she rasped in a hoarse voice.
He scowled. He was here. There was nothing Marcus could do to keep her against her will unless he was interested in getting the cops involved. If he tried anything, Trent would protect her. She didn’t have to worry.
“Did you hear me? We’re leaving. Me, you, and the boys. You don’t have to stay here.”
Her eyes glazed and she took a deep breath. “I … can’t go with you.”
“Yes, you can. You just take my hand and walk out that door. He’s not going to stop us.”
A tear rolled down her cheek and he breathed in, holding back his fury. His glare snapped to Marcus. “What did you do to her?”
Marcus tsked. “Did you have something to say to this man, Chloe?”
Her lips quivered. “I’m … staying here. We’re … going to be a family again.” Her words were too mechanical, too rehearsed. “You should leave.”
He was losing patience. “What the hell’s going on? Where are the boys?”
Drawing in a deep breath, she said, “Dayton and Matthew are visiting their new school. They’re transferring.”
This was not his Chloe. It was clear Marcus had full faith she’d not betray him, which led him to believe her last few hours had been hell. Scrutinizing her again, he searched for signs of damage. Her clothing was fresh and clean. But her eyes wore lines of tension and her lips, which always wore a shade of color, were now bone white. But she was trying to fool him. The tears he saw a second ago were gone. Why was she hiding the truth from him?
Fuck this. Stepping forward, he reached for her hand. “Chloe, he can’t hurt you if you leave—”
Marcus stood with surprising speed, his cool fingers clamping around Trent’s wrist. “I’m going to have to insist that you not touch my wife.”
He stared at their three hands and then looked into Chloe’s vacant Stepford eyes, rested on her husband. What the fuck had he done to her? Was she on drugs? “Look at me,” he snapped and her gaze jerked back to him. “This isn’t you. We’re leaving.”
“I wouldn’t trust this man if I were you, darling.”
Trent all but snarled when he saw the glint of satisfaction in Hunt’s eyes, the smirk twisting his lips. He looked back to Chloe. “Don’t listen to anything he says. He’s a fucking psychopath. You’re coming with me.”
“Did you know he was hired to find you?” Marcus’s question whispered through the air like the blade of a guillotine.
That motherfucker. Trent’s eyes closed as Chloe’s shocked face turned to him in horror. He was going to murder the man.
“That’s right. One hundred thousand dollars—although I think you likely paid him enough in a different form of currency, but we’ll discuss that later.”
Her hand jerked out of his and Marcus grinned triumphantly. “As much as we’ve enjoyed your visit, Mr. Cole, I believe it’s time for you to go.”
“Chloe, don’t listen to him. He’s full of shit.”
Her head shook in disbelief.
“Maybe if she saw the contract you signed she’d have an easier time deciding who to trust. Should I go get it for her, Mr. Cole?”
She blinked up at him, hurt shimmering through the tears now filling her eyes. “Tell me he’s lying, Trenton. You didn’t work for him…”
Her gaze pleaded, begging him to say it wasn’t true. His shoulders lowered. “I love you, Chloe. I’d never hurt you.”
“Did you work for him?” she choked.
Hunt sighed. “Oh, now you’ve upset my wife. I’m afraid it’s true. And now it’s time to go.”
Ignoring him, he frantically tried to clarify. “Chloe, listen to me. Yes, I was hired to find you, but—”
Her brow pinched as she turned away, covering her ears. “Get out.”
“Chloe, don’t listen to him! It was before I knew you. He wants you to hate me so you won’t come with me. I’m not leaving without you and the boys—”
She spun and slapped her palms into his chest. “Get. Out!”
So shocked she actually shoved him, he staggered back a step. “Doll—”
“I trusted you!”
Hunt caught her shoulders and pulled her back. The sob that ripped from her throat cut right through his chest. “Shh,” Hunt whispered, turning her toward the stairs. “Go lie down like you were. I’ll take care of this.”
“Chloe, don’t go up those stairs!”
In a calmer voice, Hunt said, “Do as I said.”
Trent panted as she glanced back at him one last time and then took the stairs. “You son of a bitch—”
“Careful.” He held up his cellphone, 911 already showing as the next contact.
Seeing red, he grabbed Marcus by the front of the shirt and slammed him against the wall. “You think you’re amusing? Everything you do to her I’m gonna do back to you, but worse,” he snarled.
“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?” The small voice played from his phone and Marcus smiled.
“Send an officer to my house immediately. A man by the name of Trenton Cole just assaulted me and tried to abduct my wife. I believe he has a gun.” He ended the call. “They’ll be here in two minutes.”
Trent drew back his fist and hesitated, knowing any proof of assault would only work against him. Releasing his hold of his shirt, he shoved away.
“You make her cry, I’ll make you scream and beg we never met. You hurt her, I’ll fucking slaughter you. This isn’t over, you fucking psychopath. This isn’t over.” He slammed his fist into the wall beside Hunt’s head, driving his point home. “We clear?”
“Oh, crystal.”
Seething, he pointed in his face. “One mark on her and you’re a dead man. One. Fucking. Mark.”