But he could also tell them shewas.
He closed his eyes, allowing himself for just a second to consider the possibility that she was pregnant. That their child was growing in her belly after years of trying and failing.
He’d wanted kids for so long. After growing up as an only child, he’d always wanted lots of kids. He’d dreamed of a loud home full of family.
But more than that…he wanted to be a dad. And he’d sure as hell do a better job than his own father.
He’d just opened the fridge when the scream cut through the air.
Indie.
He took off, sprinting through the house, his feet pounding against the floorboards before he crashed into the bedroom. And what he saw made his blood run cold.
Gordon Sharp stood behind Indie, one arm wrapped around her throat while the other held a knife inches from her cheek.
Indie’s eyes locked with Colt’s. The fear almost gutted him. But there was also something else in her expression—anger.
“What the hell are you doing, Gordon?” Colt growled.
His father raised a brow. “I’m holding a knife to your wife’s throat. You don’t think you can muster up a ‘Dad’ for me?”
“What Ithinkis if you harm a fucking hair on her head, I willgutyou.”
His father laughed, but the sound was almost manic. “You’re not too bright, are you, kid?I’mholding the knife. So I make the rules.”
“What do you want?” Each word was forced out through gritted teeth.
“You know what I want…the money I’m owed.”
The asshole wasn’t owed a fucking thing. But now wasn’t the time to remind him of that. “And what? You think I just keep a pile of cash sitting around?”
“If you want your wife to come out of this in one piece, I think you’ll figure out how to get it to me.”
Fury pulsed through Colt’s veins.
“I have cash,” Indie said, voice quiet, almost breathless. “It’s in my safe in the walk-in closet.”
“How much?” Gordon growled.
“Thousands. I sold a car, and they paid me in cash. I never put the money in the bank. It could tide you over until Colt and Sylvia get you the rest.”
Colt frowned. Was that true?
“If you’re lying to me—”
“I’m not,” Indie interrupted.
“I’ll get it for you,” Colt said, taking a step toward the closet.
“No.”
Colt stopped, his hands fisting at the way the knife in Gordon’s hand inched closer to Indie’s skin.
“You think I’m stupid?” Gordon gasped. “She and I will go. And if there’s a gun in there, I’m slicing her neck open.”
Every part of Colt screamed to cross that small distance between them and ram the knife into his father’s throat. But it was too close to Indie’s neck. He wouldn’t make it in time.
Instead, he angled his body to the side and got his phone from his pocket. He stepped forward, half of his body hidden by the dresser, using it to shield what he was doing. Only looking down in the small milliseconds that Gordon took his eyes off him.
