They really did.
Maddox hadn’t seen any other way. Charlotte knew without a doubt if there had been another way, he’d have found it.
Chapter Eleven
It was after two in the morning on the second night of hunting for Lou’s brothers. Abel was pissed off, hungry, and he was fucking cold. Now he had to listen to Jacob, and how amazing it was having a woman that was pregnant. So far, Harper wasn’t pregnant, even though he had tried. He hadn’t asked her about it.
“Lou told me Denny’s is their old hunting spot.”
“That’s on Marshall’s turf.”
“Stuart reached out to him. We go to him, he finds them, and we settle this,” Jacob said.
“How can you be so fucking happy?”
“How can you not be? With Landon in England, Dad’s different. Can’t you see that?”
Abel had seen the change in his father. He was back on the ball, taking care of business, and not sticking behind a desk. It wasn’t like Maddox Denton to be constantly pushing paper, handling phones, or dealing with petty squabbles. That was usually Stuart’s job.
“He’s calling the Moores in tonight,” Abel said. Usually, Abel would have been present, but with his own stubbornness not to tell Harper the truth, his father didn’t want him anywhere near the situation. Instead, he was hunting two pain-in-the-ass men who really didn’t deserve it. They deserved to die.
“I know.”
“Does Lou know?”
“Yep, she doesn’t care. Her family has caused her enough heartache to last a lifetime. She wants them all gone.”
“Bloodthirsty.”
“Dad’s thinking of inviting your woman’s parents home for Thanksgiving.”
r /> Abel froze. “What?”
“I heard our folks talking about it. I thought it would be kind of funny to watch you squirm.”
They pulled up outside of Marshall’s house, and pressed the buzzer at the gate.
“Denton to see Marshall,” Jacob said.
The gate buzzed, and they drove down the long winding road. “Has it ever occurred to you that big bad men have the best fucking houses?” Abel said.
“That’s because crime pays.”
“I was thinking of buying Harper a house. What do you think?”
“I think you should tell her, and then start thinking about it. See if she’s still around.”
The time for talking stopped as Marshall was waiting for them at the door. Climbing out of the car, Abel was ready to fight. Entering Marshall’s turf had risked the possibility of death.
Tell Harper.
Tell Harper.
It was becoming a mantra in his mind of what he should do, and shouldn’t do.
“Gentlemen,” Marshall said, coming toward them. He held his hands up. Marshall was a large man, muscular, his arms covered in ink, some of which Abel saw peeking out from underneath the cuffs of his suit. “We have what you’re looking for inside.”
“You’ve found the Moore boys?”