Page 120 of Shattered Pieces

I helped myself to the fridge, grabbing a beer before getting comfortable on the couch.

“Alright, hit me with it.”

He sighed, sitting beside me and holding my gaze. “I’ll just rip the Band-Aid off. Skeet had the locks changed at Slash’s when you were arrested. He’s gotten it in his head that you played Slash, and he died for nothing.”

“He can’t do that. It’s legally mine!” I snapped, almost crushing the beer can in my hand.

“I know that, I told him as such too, but what are you going to do? Call the cops?” he grunted.

“The Mustang?” I asked, my chest feeling tight. How could Skeeter do this to me? He fucking knew I loved Slash, so why was he being such a prick? I hadn’t betrayed anyone.

“I hid it, it’s safe, but I highly recommend keeping it hidden for now. He’s looking for it,” he warned, scowling as the door opened and Marco stepped in. “I fucking told you to stay at the warehouse.”

Marco smirked, closing the door behind him and walking towards me, dropping down on my other side and putting his feet up on the coffee table.

“Hey, Princess. You totally wanted to see me, right?”

“You’re so full of it,” I grumbled, but I really had. As much as he pissed me off, he’d broken into the fucking hospital to see me, and I’d really needed that.

“Did he tell you yet?” he asked, looking a little nervous.

“Yeah.”

“You’re taking it quite well,” he hummed, seeming surprised. “I kind of expected you to murder both of us.”

Hunter groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face as I glanced between them.

“Why would I?” I asked slowly.

“I mean, we were going to tell you, but then you kept going missing and it made sense to keep it. I’m just relieved you’re not blaming me,” he replied, confusing me more.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“The tracker,” he said like I was stupid, and I grabbed the front of his jacket in my fist and yanked him closer so that our noses were almost touching.

“What fucking tracker?”

“I hadn’t told her that part yet, we were talking about Slash’s things,” Hunter said dryly, but Marco didn’t seem to care as he grabbed my waist and pulled me onto his lap. I tried to pull back, but he wrapped his arms around me with a grin.

“You thought I had some kind of telepathic connection to you or something? C’mon, how do you think I kept finding you so easily?”

My fingers went to his throat and his damn dick jerked under my ass.

“I figured you were using your hacking stuff to find me. Tell me what tracker you’re talking about,” I demanded, and Hunter pulled me to my feet and gave Marco his back to look me in the eyes.

“I wanted to talk about this calmly and without him here. I ordered him to plant a tracker on you before we became friends,” he explained, and I shoved him back a step.

“What does that even mean? How did you plant one on me? You always found me even when I didn’t have my phone, so how⁠—”

“When I broke in and drugged you, I injected a tracker under your skin,” Marco stated, getting to his feet and walking closer, and I was so dumbfounded that I didn’t swat his hand away when he reached out to press his finger lightly against a spot on the back of my neck. “Right here.”

“You put a tracker under my skin?” I repeated, mistrust filling me. “All this time and you never said anything?”

Hunter had the decency to look ashamed of himself, but Marco didn’t seem to give a shit as he dragged me a little closer with his hand still on the back of my neck.

“Do you know how many times we’ve needed to find you with this thing? You run off without your phone all the time.”

“Give me a knife. I’m cutting it out,” I spat, trying to shove him away, but he was like a brick wall.