by Coralee June
I wasn’t sure if Hunter would show up there, but based on the drunk woman he’d brought home last night, I figured he regularly attended a local bar to chase pussy. The thought of that made me sick, but I tried to focus on the task at hand. This was no longer a mission to win him over, I just needed to get him home.
Honestly, I was too much of a chicken shit to show up at his house again. I refused to believe that Hunter would hurt me, but I wasn’t stupid, either. Besides, I was stronger now. I could put up a fight. But being strong meant being smart, too. Things had changed so much that I wasn’t about to test his code of ethics or sense of right and wrong on his very secluded property. No one could hear me scream.
This was a small town. People talked. I hoped to walk in the bar, flirt with a few guys, and get the locals to notice. I had every intention of standing out in a public place that would safely garner Hunter’s attention. He wouldn’t hurt me if we had an audience. I just needed another chance to chat with him. Maybe if I asked him to be just friends, he would go for it.
I sighed at the smoky eye shadow smeared across my lids and wished Nicole were here. I never partied without her, and knowing she was with Gavriel made me sick. Maybe she could answer her phone?
I dialed the number and listened to the phone ring. Nicole answered just before I was sure it would go to voicemail. She didn’t even give me time to greet her. “Girl, you better go get your man. The Bullets are not fucking around,” she said.
“Shit, Nicole, I’m so sorry I dragged you into this. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Pissed as fuck at you, but fine. Before I bitch you out for writing the most basic ass note, leaving town, not answering your cell, and working with gangsters—are you okay?”
I cringed. Yeah, I really had lost my fucking mind. “Yes and no?” I offered. I went into a long explanation over what had happened from the time Hunter answered his phone until now. “I can’t do this. He wanted nothing to do with me, Nicole,” I argued while staring at my reflection in the mirror.
“You better take your panties off and handle this like a woman because these fuckers mean business. What’s your game plan?”
I quickly explained how I was going to a local bar to get intel and hopefully run into him. “You should just show up at his house naked,” she insisted.
“Absolutely not. I have to play this smart, Nicole.”
“Yeah, you do. I don’t particularly want to die. Although the team of guys they have making sure I don’t run away are kind of cute. I mean, what a way to go, am I right?”
I rolled my eyes while setting my phone down and turning it to the speaker. “Only you would joke about dying from a hot guy,” I teased.
“You’re one to talk. We’re in this mess because you’re obsessed with your assassin stalker that now wants nothing to do with you.” I pushed up my boobs and smacked my lips. The sun had long ago disappeared over the mountains, which meant it was almost time to leave. “You’ll handle this, right, Roe?” Nicole asked after a long, lingering moment of silence.
I didn’t know if I had this handled or not, but I wasn’t about to worry her any more than she already was. “I’ll figure this out. Even if I have to drug Hunter and bring him back in the trunk of my car.”
“Atta girl,” Nicole said with a sigh of relief. “And I was serious when I said no panties tonight. Give the bastard easy access, then trap him with your pussy.”
“Good night, Nicole,” I interrupted.
She was rambling about well-timed hip thrusts when I managed to hang up the phone.
The clock read ten o’clock, and my mind fumbled over every detail from our kiss earlier. Now that I had a clear head and had purged all thoughts of his cruel words, it didn’t feel like the sort of kiss from someone that hates me. If felt reluctant, like he didn’t want to admit that he missed me as much as I missed him.
I would have to push him, I decided. Biting my inner cheek, I shimmied my red lace panties off and kicked them to the side.
Let’s do this.
ROE
The entrance to the bar had swinging doors like an old west movie. There wasn’t anyone waiting to check IDs, but I had a feeling that everyone in this town knew everyone. I also got the sense that underage drinking wasn’t as big of a faux pas here as it was in other cities. There wasn’t much else to do in Joshua Tree.
The moment I walked in, I felt ridiculous. Everyone else in the bar was wearing long denim jeans, T-shirts with holes in them, and plaid jackets. I was very overdressed, and I felt about three dozen eyes land on me the second I realized this was a very bad idea. I rolled my shoulders back in mock confidence. Nicole taught me that you can never be overdressed or overeducated, so I strutted my stuff to the bar and tried to sit down on the tall stool without flashing everyone my vagina. I didn’t want to be here. I wanted to drive home and lick my wounds. I wanted to start getting over Hunter Hammond, because I didn’t want to let my obsession rule my life for an unworthy man. But Gavriel wasn’t giving me much of a choice.
“You must be a tourist,” the bartender said with a smile. I stopped looking around to meet his stare. He was handsome with his freshly shaven face, warm amber eyes, and a buzz cut. I noted the ink sprawled along his bulging biceps, and the veins popping out of his forearms.
“Is it that obvious?” I replied with the tilt of my head and a wry smile.
“Pretty things don’t stay here for long. People come and go like the seasons in Joshua Tree. Only people that stay are trying to escape from something, and you don’t look like a girl on the run. Did you come for the glamping compound? I hear that’s really big with the Gen Z-ers these days.” For some reason, my heart warmed at his words. I guess I did stop being the girl that ran. I almost reverted back to her when Hunter told me he wanted me gone. But I chased things now.
I glanced at his calloused hands as he poured me a drink. He hadn’t even asked what I wanted, so I was curious about his assumptions of me. “Glamping compound?” I asked.
“Yep. It’s all the rage these days. Fancy tents that’ll look good on your Instagram feed. Mr. Lock charges four hundred dollars a night for people to sleep outside on a shitty mattress with no running water or air conditioning. But it’s pretty and has a certain aesthetic people cream their pants for,” he said with a chuckle before sliding the drink over to me. I wasn’t paying attention to what mixes he was pouring in my glass, but I bravely picked it up and took a sip.
It was sweet and hard. Heat hit the back of my throat with a slamming punch, and I knew that whatever he poured me was fucking potent. I let out a hiss and set the cup down. “That sounds awful,” I rasped. Whatever drink he’d given me had affected my speech momentarily, sucking the moisture out of my throat. I was ready for another. “I’m staying at the motel off the highway.”
“That motel is disgusting. The mattresses are hard from all the middle-aged cum coating the sheets.”
I shivered and cringed, curling my lip in disgust. “That’s nasty. Maybe I should sleep in my car.”
“Or find someone nice, strong, and handsome to go home with,” he added with a wink.
I forced a smile. The last thing I wanted was to go home with someone else while I had Hunter on the brain. I’d be comparing every movement to my stalker. But some harmless flirting never hurt. “I’ll keep that in mind,” I replied before taking another sip.
“So what brings you here, then?” he asked. I looked around the bar and noticed a couple of people reaching over and grabbing their own drinks. This place was definitely low-key, so I didn’t feel too bad about monopolizing the bartender’s time. Hell, maybe he could give me some information about Hunter.
“I’m seeing an old friend that wants nothing to do with me. Figured I’d come to drink away my sorrow and figure out what to do from here,” I replied. It seemed better to tell the truth than to lie. “I’m Roe, by the way,” I greeted with a nod before taking another sip of my deadly drink.
“I’m Manny,” the ba
rtender replied with a nod. A man next to me asked for a beer, but Manny served him without breaking eye contact with me. His stare was heavy and assessing. “Is this friend the reason you stink of heartbreak?”
“I wouldn’t call it heartbreak,” I offered lightly. It was more like a tragic, disastrous catastrophe. “Maybe you know him? His name is Hunter Hammond. We were friends five years ago, and I finally tracked him down.”
Manny’s eyes widened, as if shocked to hear Hunter’s name on my lips. “No shit?” he asked. “That fucker is in my bar almost every night. In fact, I’m pretty sure he’s keeping me in business right now.”
So Hunter had become quite the drinker now? Wasn’t it just yesterday that we bonded outside Nicole Knight’s house over our mutual distaste for parties? Was he searching for something or running? “I guess I should leave if I want to avoid him,” I replied. I wouldn’t be leaving; I was prodding Manny for more information.
“He’s got an entire entourage of territorial women you definitely need to avoid,” Manny said while nodding toward a corner of women giggling and slamming back cheap beer.
“They look like fun,” I murmured while popping a twenty-dollar bill on the counter.
“They’re bored women that like to fuck their way through town to make up for their mediocre lives.”
Maybe I didn’t like Manny after all. He sounded almost jealous, and judgmental men with opinions about a woman’s sex life were usually overcompensating for their tiny dicks. “I’ll keep that in mind,” I replied with a curt smile. “Wish me luck.” I threw back the rest of my drink with a hiss and a wink.
“You’re going to need it, girl. Come back when you need more liquid relief.”
Other women didn’t intimidate me. I wasn’t the sort of person to compare myself to someone else just because we both touched the same dick. I didn’t fight for attention. I didn’t take sides. I introduced myself.
Sex was a great cure for boredom, and if Hunter recycled through these women to pass the time, then they were my new best friends.
I stared at the group of them while wondering which one went home with Hunter last night. One had yellow-blond hair and ripped jeans that were barely hanging onto her thin frame.
The other woman wore smeared red lipstick and an oversized black shirt that made it look like she wasn’t wearing any pants. I decided immediately that I wanted to be friends with them.
“Hello,” I greeted with a half grin that felt uncertain. “I’m Roe.”
Slowly, the two women turned to face me, both of them flushed from the alcohol and swaying in their seats. If there was anything that Nicole taught me, it was that drunk girls were the best girls. We just had to compliment one another and we were in. “Oh my gosh, I love your lipstick,” I said to the girl with dark hair.
She impulsively licked her lips at my compliment, then looked me up and down. I gave her what I hoped was a convincing smile, and she returned it with equal enthusiasm. “Thanks,” she replied. “I got it at Walmart. One of my fuck buddies likes how it looks wrapped around his dick,” she cackled, making the blond woman giggle, too.
“Can’t blame him,” I joked. “It’s hot. I struggle pulling off red shades, but I still try.”
“Red looks great on you! You’ve got those plump lips,” the brunette said with a wink. I puckered my pout playfully at her.
“I’m Butterfly,” the blonde greeted while thrusting out her soft hand for a limp noodle handshake.
“And I’m Luna,” the other said with a fist bump. “We work at the local glamping compound. I’m a massage therapist, and Butterfly teaches yoga.”
How...appropriate, I thought to myself.
“Are you just passing through?” Butterfly asked.
“Kind of. I came here to find someone. Now I’m kind of finding myself. Then I saw the two of you and figured we could find the bottom of a margarita glass together.”
Luna held her hands up and squealed. “Hell yes!”
Butterfly joined in. “Did we just become best friends?”
I closed my eyes and silently thanked Nicole for helping me navigate the secret language of drunk girls before ordering another round of drinks from Manny.
Within the hour, we were all shooting the shit and talking about the benefits of having a vagina. The more we drank, the looser my lips got, and pretty soon I was asking them about Hunter Hammond.
“You know Hunter?” Luna asked while giving Butterfly a conspiratorial side-eye. “Do you know him in the biblical sense or…”
“You’re not even religious, Luna,” Butterfly replied with an eye roll.
“I guess you could say I’ve known him my entire life,” I interjected. “But I came here, and he wanted nothing to do with me.”
“That’s because he’s dick deep in Roxanne’s hot pocket,” Luna said with a snort.
My drunken ears perked up. “Roxanne?” I asked.
“They aren’t really dating. No offense, but Hunter has made his way around town. Even I’ve drank from the river, ya dig?” My heart panged, but Luna was being honest and sincere. I nodded to encourage her to keep going. “She’s just his most consistent fuck around here, mostly because she scared everyone off. Sorry to break it to you, but we’ve all had a taste of the mysterious Hunter. She’s the only one he’s gone to for seconds,” Luna said while waving her hand at Manny for another drink. “In fact, you kind of look alike. If you weren’t dressed like a hooker, I’d say you were twins.”
“I’m not dressed like a hooker,” I sputtered drunkenly with a giggle.
“You’re sure as fuck not dressed like a nun, either,” Luna teased. She was definitely the sassy one in the group. Butterfly was the motherly hippie.
“Don’t shame her for showing skin, Luna. The patriarchy has us all convinced that our clothes are for men,” Butterfly said in a singsong voice. “Our body is not for their viewing pleasure. We are nothing more than sculptures in Mother Earth’s garden.”
Butterfly was definitely out there.
“So,” I began, trying to bring the conversation back on track. “Do you know Roxanne?”
Luna let out a dark laugh. “Know her? We work with the bitch. She runs the music therapy class, and Hunter works with the horses.”
“Wait,” I said, holding my hands up. “Hunter works with horses?” I asked in disbelief.
“He manages the stalls and leads groups on trail rides. Lock wants to keep him forever. Ever since he hired him, everyone wants a ride.”
Butterfly snorted. “Everyone wants a ride. That’s funny.”
The picture of Hunter’s life here in Joshua Tree was starting to make sense. He slept around and lived in a trailer in the middle of nowhere. He worked at a hippie resort, taking care of horses and fucked with some girl named Roxanne. In less than two hours, I knew more about Hunter than I ever did. He really was building a life for himself here. A life without his obsession with me. A life free from Gavriel. Could I seriously bring him back to that?
Would Gavriel actually hurt Nicole if I didn’t?
Why did it hurt so much to think of him moving on while I’d been stuck in his orbit?
There was a spark of pain thudding against my rib cage, reminding me that Hunter wasn’t mine. Maybe he never was.
“Speak of the devil,” Butterfly sang in a high-pitched voice.
I felt his presence before I even turned around. Dark, hungry and furious. I could sense his eyes on my back and his anger boiling in my chest. “Wow, his aura is sending all kinds of messages,” Butterfly exclaimed while fanning herself. “I can’t tell if he’s pissed off or horny.”
“That’s just the way I like my men. Walking that tight rope of murder and fucking,” Luna replied with a moan. “Damn, Roxanne is with him. We have to be nice. No hard feelings, Roe. Her dad owns the compound where we work.”
I shrugged, these women didn’t really owe me anything. We were just bonding over a few drinks, but I immediately liked them more for wanting to reassure
me. “No worries,” I replied. “I can handle it.”
Hunter Hammond had already broken my heart past repair. I was here for a job now. I’d have to separate feelings if I wanted out of this in one piece. “Damn girl, he looks hella pissed to see you. It’s not too late to run,” Luna offered while forcing a smile. Her bright red lips were stretched in an awkward pout.
“I don’t run from a challenge,” I replied.
“I’m loving her energy, Loony, can we keep her?” Butterfly said with a sigh.
“Stop fucking calling me Loony! It’s Luna,” Luna argued.
“Your real name is Megan, so you can just drop that argument at the door like you did your Dallas suburb roots,” Butterfly snickered. “I know your hair is blond under that box dye job.”
“I’m a fucking witch from the desert, and I will hex you if you say otherwise.”
I focused on my two new friends’ bickering as Hunter walked over to us. I didn’t even have to turn and face him to know that he was stomping closer, with cruelty brewing on his tongue. I knew it was coming, but I wasn’t expecting the prod of cool metal pressed into my back. Was that a fucking gun? He had it hidden by the way our bodies were positioned, but I couldn’t ignore the threat.
“Roxanne, go get me a beer, Babe,” Hunter said. Still, I hadn’t turned to look at him. That sweet pet name sounded foreign on his lips, like sentimental bullshit wasn’t the norm.
“Babe?” the woman scoffed. “You never call me Babe.”
I kept my eyes trained on Butterfly and Luna. Their brows were raised, and their heavy drunken eyes seemed more awake somehow.
“I said get me a drink, Roxanne,” Hunter demanded.
“Fine, whatever. I just wanted a nice night with the girls, and you just had to go all caveman on me. Save it for the bedroom, Babe.”
I heard heels stomp off but still didn’t turn. “Come with me, Roe,” Hunter growled his demand.
