Page 45 of Unchained

Harper gives me a mischievous grin and slides her phone across the table. “I think you’ll fit in just fine round here, Gianna,” she tells me.

And that makes my heart race. This is something I’ve never had. Friends, going out, drinking, and laughing. It feels so… normal. I always thought normal was boring, or so I was led to believe. I think I got that wrong.

Okay. The numbers are a little fuzzy. I am slightly more drunk than I first thought. Isn’t that the best time to text your husband, who you currently hate?

I think so.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Colten

I stare down at the text one more time.

UNKNOWN: This is your wife. Please come and help me.

Glancing up at Hunter, who is currently battling Gary the goat to get him out of the living room.

“Gianna is out with the girls tonight?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he grunts, slamming the door shut.

Looks like Gary is sleeping outside tonight. I dare not ask what he’s eaten this time.

“G sent me a text asking for help. And she said, please.”

He frowns. “Tate is there. Lola hasn’t said anything, although I bet she’s too drunk to even form a sentence right now.”

I tap my finger on my jeans. I can’t ignore it. Because if this is real and something happens to her, I don’t care how pissed off she is at me; I can’t let that happen.

But, at the same time, this is Gianna Milano. There ain’t no shit she can’t get herself out of. That could also be the problem. She might be about to burn a bar down. Which I also can’t let happen in my town.

So, I’m up, grabbing the keys to my truck.

“Make sure my girl is okay,” Hunter calls out.

“Yeah. Will do.”

I’m in the truck and on the road in minutes; I try calling her. She doesn’t answer. So I call Tate. He does answer, hard to hear over the music in the bar, though.

“You got eyes on my wife?” I ask, keeping it simple.

“Yep. She’s twelve martinis deep, Colt. Approach with caution.”

“Alright.”

I cut the call and pull up in a parking space nearby. Pushing open the doors, despite it being nearly midnight, the place is full to the rafters. It takes me a second to find her jet-black hair at the bar.

Very much alive and well. Drink in one hand. A smile on her beautiful face as she talks to someone. My eyes follow who she’s speaking to, and my fists clench.

Oh, my wife really wanted to fuck with me.

She wants to play? Fine.

I lost the first game; I don’t plan on losing a second time.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Gianna