Chapter 15

"Why didn't you call me as soon as the judge announced the order?" I snap into my phone, my blood running hot and my vision blurred from the red seeping through it. "You should have called me yourself."

"I was intending to, but I got called away before I could. I told one of my officers to do it. I'm not sure why he didn't. My guess is there was miscommunication somehow."

"That's not an acceptable excuse, Trevor, and you damn well know it. It's my wife's life at stake here," I growl through gritted teeth. "The incompetence of the police department has put her in danger."

Trevor is the chief of police and is considered a good friend. At least he was until this massive fuck up.

Trevor sighs heavily over the line. "There's no reason to believe Henry will go after Cat, Hunter. He left town immediately after being released two days ago. According to my sources, he has no plans to come back." He pauses for a moment. "If it helps, I'll have a couple of officers patrol the neighborhood for the next few weeks."

"Fuck you, Trevor. I'll hire my own people. I'll be damned if I let the idiots at the department watch over my wife. They can't even follow orders and pick up the phone to inform me that one of the men who almost murdered Cat and succeeded in murdering my children is out on the streets. What makes you think they'd be any better at protection?"

"It was a mistake that won't happen again. I give you my word."

The comment only irritates me more. This shit should not have happened in the first place. Not to mention, the fucking bastard should never have been released. "Your word doesn't mean shit if you can't control the assholes who work under you."

Silas walks into my office with his eyebrows raised, no doubt wondering what all the shouting is about. He folds his large frame into the chair in front of my desk.

"Did you at least get the letter that was sent out?" Trevor asks.

"What letter?" I bark.

"The Court of Appeals sent one out the day the conviction was overturned."

I bite back a curse. "I haven't seen one, but that doesn't mean Cat didn't come across it first."

The thought of Cat seeing that letter when I wasn't there sends a murderous rage through me. Not that she doesn't have the right to know that one of her attackers was released from prison. However, I would have preferred to tell her myself. If she has seen the letter, she hasn't mentioned it. Which isn't surprising, since Cat tends to repress anything to do with that night.

"I'm sorry about this, Hunter. Please let me know if there is anything the department can do. Rest assured, I plan to find out why you weren't notified."

"Yeah," is all I grunt before I smash the End Call button.

My phone skitters across the desk when I angrily toss it down.

"What's going on?" Silas asks, catching my phone before it can slide off the edge of the desk.

"Henry Stephens was released from prison two days ago."

His relaxed posture stiffens. "What the fuck?"

I nod grimly. "Fucking Trevor was supposed to call me, but there was some fuck up and the call never came."

"How in the hell did he manage to get out?"

"A technicality." Anger makes my voice come out a deep growl. "Apparently, there was a discrepancy with his DNA results found at the scene."

"Shit," Silas mutters.

"Trevor claims Henry left town and isn't expected to return." Now that Henry's been released, he's within my grasp. "I want the bastard found and brought to me."

"I'll get a couple of guys on it. Are you heading home?" he asks.

"Yes. I want to check on Cat." I snatch up my phone and start scrolling through names, looking for a particular one. "I'm calling Mathias and having him put a couple guys on Cat. I don't think Henry is smart enough to stay the fuck away. Especially with Whisper catching wind I'm onto him."

"Good idea." He gets up from his seat. "How's Cat doing?"

"She was fine when I left this morning. What happened last night really shook her, but I think she was more embarrassed than anything when I told her it was only the neighbor she saw."

If Cat found and read the letter with the news about Henry, it would explain her extreme reaction to seeing a shadow in our backyard last night. It's not the first time she's reacted in such a way. There have been other instances where she thought she saw something that wasn't there.

PTSD is a vicious beast that Cat will always have to face.

The safe room in our basement took three months to construct, and it only added a small sense of security once it was completed. There is nothing that can totally remove Cat's fear of being attacked again. Just as nothing can take away my own fear of something happening to her.

The men who broke into our home and terrorized my family were caught and sentenced to prison for seventy years. However, the crime wasn't random. My children didn't die and my wife wasn't brutalized because the sick bastards happened on our house by accident and decided to have some twisted fun.

My family was specifically targeted, and no matter how much the criminals were interrogated, the person who ordered it was never found. They only gave a single name. Whisper. According to them, Whisper always contacted them by phone with an untraceable number. There's no way to verify whether their claims are true.

Now one of the men is walking the fucking streets.

After calling Mathias and having a couple of his men shadow Cat, I slam through the back door of Slate. I climb behind the wheel of my SUV and take off, headed for home. As I navigate the busy streets, my body is still vibrating with rage. Knowing Henry Stephens has been free for two days without my knowledge has my fists strangling the steering wheel, imagining it's his fucking neck.

By the time I pull into the driveway, I've calmed down enough to walk into the house without letting Cat know something's wrong. She must already know. The letter would have been addressed to both of us. The return address on the top left corner would have prompted her to open it. She would have opened it, read it, and then hid it. Not to keep the news from me, but to prevent herself from seeing it again. Cat's mind can't handle anything that reminds her of that night. That's why all of our family photos are kept in a box in the closet. It's also why her parents take down picture frames of our kids when we visit them. I hate that we can't display the memories of our beautiful family, but I won't let what we once had destroy Cat's mind. My memories of them will forever remain in my head, and that is how I cherish them. They also live on in Cat and me.

I hear music playing when I walk into the house and reset the alarm. Despite the bad news I received today, a smile tugs at my lips. Following the soft beat of the music, I find Cat in the kitchen. Standing at the counter, she smashes dough with her hands. Her hips sway and her head bobs up and down as Bon Jovi plays on her phone. Bon Jovi has been her favorite band since she was a teenager.

I let all thoughts of Henry drift from my mind as I walk up behind her. Her lips tip up when she turns her head a fraction to the side, sensing me before I reach her. Wrapping my arms around her waist, I press my chest against her back, placing a kiss on the soft column of her neck.

"You're home early," she comments, turning her head so I have access to her lips. "Not that I'm complaining."

"What can I say? I was anxious to get back to you."

A smile spreads across her face as she looks over her shoulder at me. "It's amazing how you always know what to say to make my stomach flutter."

My lips twitch with amusement as I lift my brow. "You aren't used to it by now?"

Her laughter is light and full of happiness. "I'll never get used to it."

Resting my chin on her shoulder, I look down at the dough on the counter. "What cookies are you making?"

"Do you have to ask? Do I ever make anything other than your favorite? It's a good thing I also love Snickerdoodles."

I chuckle. "And it's a good thing I like to share."

That earns me a giggle. The contrast of the Cat from last night to the Cat today still amazes me. There's not a hint of stress from the night before visible on her face. It's as if the incident never happened at all.

I adore all sides of Cat, but the playful side holds a special place in my heart. It reminds me of our younger days, before darkness touched our lives.

Seeing a cooling rack with baked cookies on top, I grab one. I lift it to Cat's mouth first, then pop what's left in mine. I moan at the delicious sugary cinnamon taste. Cat's snickerdoodles rival those of professional bakers.

"Our reservation is in a couple of hours," I tell her. "Is this the last batch?"

"Yes. I'll be done in about fifteen minutes."

"Meet me in the shower?"

She wiggles her ass against my cock, which quickly begins filling with blood. "You betcha."

Grabbing her chin, I turn her head enough so I can steal a kiss before I let her go with a light smack on her butt.

I leave her laughing in the kitchen and head upstairs. Rather than going straight to the shower, I move to the closet and pull out the lock box shoved to the back on the floor. After punching in the code, I lift the lid. When I see the white envelope on top, my jaw clenches painfully. My anger isn't due to Cat hiding the letter. It's solely focused on what the envelope represents and the reason it was sent.

I pull the envelope from the box, close the lid, and shove it back before walking out of the closet. Snatching the paper out, I unfold it. My blood boils with every word I read. I knew Henry's lawyer has been trying to get his client released on the technicality, but I didn't expect it to actually work. I'd love to get my hands around the neck of the asshole who fucked up the DNA test and squeeze until I see the life fade from their eyes.

Henry Stephens, Terry Fletcher, and Howard Leeway, all sixteen at the time, wore masks the night they broke into my house and terrorized my family. After murdering my children and leaving my wife for dead, the boys exited my home and went on their merry fucking way. By pure luck, Jimmy Simons, a homeless man digging through trash in the neighborhood at the time, witnessed the three teens leaving the house. After seeing blood on their clothing, he decided to investigate. That man saved my wife's life. While I can never thank him enough, I started by getting him an apartment, paying his bills for the first three months, and assisting him with finding a job. To this day, I visit him regularly and he comes by the house often. Cat's met him as her rescuer. However, when she started repressing her memories when they became too much for her mind to cope with, he became just a guy I met and became friends with.

I shove the paper back into the envelope and stuff it in a banker's box under the bed.

God help Henry if he ever comes back to town. He and the other two fucks who decimated my family were safe only because of the prison bars they were put behind. Now that one is free, there won't be an inch of him that's recognizable once I get my hands on him.