HUNTER

by Jessie Cooke

  The man was taking off his own clothes now. Every visible piece of skin between the top of his neck and his waist was covered in both muscle and tattoo. He looked like he’d done some hard time. Angel recognized prison ink when she saw it. He folded his shirt neatly after he took it off, and laid it gently over the chair next to him. He took off his boots and sat them beside the chair and then took off his jeans and folded them over the shirt. All he had left on were his boxers. He was fucking huge and Angel found herself hoping his weight would crush her to death before she had to tolerate the unbelievable indignity of his raping her. He slipped off his boxers then and for the first time all night, she wanted to laugh. If her mouth hadn’t been covered, he probably would have killed her right then. His dick looked like it was fully hard…and about three to four inches long. Whatever he’d taken to bulk up the way he was had shriveled his member, and it was the only justice she found in the entire night.

  The man threw one massive leg over her and she started to struggle against the restraints once again. His face came down toward hers and she realized he was going to kiss her. She gagged on the vomit that rose up in her throat behind the duct tape, just when she heard the most beautiful sound of her life. Harleys were coming. Dax might or might not be alive, but the Skulls were coming for Angel, and this bastard was going to pay for what he did to her brother and what he planned on doing to her.

  “Fuck! How did those sonsabitches find me?” He jumped up off her and she wished again that she could laugh out loud at him. It would be worth another punch to the face. As the sounds of the bikes got closer, he gathered his clothes off the chair and grabbed his boots. He looked her in the eyes then and said, “We’ll meet again.” Then Angel watched helplessly as he climbed out the bedroom window and disappeared from her sight.

  As they got closer to the cabin, Dax’s racing heart leapt at the sight of the car. It had to be the one that took her. The trunk was open, but he could see the license plate. He could also see the heavyset man that lay crumpled in the dirt a few feet away from it. He was lying face down and Dax couldn’t tell if he was breathing or not, but he could see the indentation in the dirt and the trail of blood where he’d crawled from just behind the car to where he was. If he was dead, he hoped that Angel was the one that got to kill him. If he wasn’t dead, he would be soon. Dax let the bike skid to a stop and jumped off it without even killing the engine. The kill switch stopped it when he was already up on the porch of the old cabin. He felt the guys behind him as he kicked open the door.

  “Angel?” he yelled as soon as he was inside. There was a hallway to his right. He cleared the small living room in three long steps and the hallway in two. The door to the back room was closed. He kicked that one open and his heart was suddenly in his throat. Angel was there, and she was alive. He had to concentrate on that and not the fact that she was almost nude and bleeding, and her face was so swollen that she was almost unrecognizable. He was at her side in seconds and he heard the rest of the guys file out. He knew they’d be out looking for whoever had done this to her; all he was worried about at that moment was making sure she was okay. He took hold of the tape and as gently as he could, he removed it from her mouth. Tears were spilling out of her eyes as she said, in a raspy, heart-wrenching voice:

  “You’re alive. Thank God.”

  For the first time since he was a little boy, Dax Marshall cried. He cried while he was cutting the ropes that held her to the bed, and he cried as he pulled her battered body up into his lap. He cried even harder when she whispered, “Thank you for finding me.” He knew that sadness he felt was going to brew into the hottest rage he’d ever experienced…and he welcomed it. He couldn’t wait to unleash it on whoever had done this to her. For now, though, he just held her and rocked her back and forth and told her everything was going to be okay. He meant that. He was going to strike the kind of fear into this fucking place that would live forever in legend, and no one would ever hurt her again.

  24

  “Hunter…Hunter, wake up.” The sound of Claire’s soft, sweet voice penetrated the fogginess in Hunter’s head and he slowly opened his eyes. He tried to move his arm before he remembered how much pain he was in, and he cried out, embarrassing himself when he saw Claire’s big eyes watching him. “You were moaning in your sleep. If you don’t have any pain medicine, I need to go find you some.”

  “No…I have some in the bathroom cabinet,” he groaned out. Fuck, his arm felt ten times worse this morning than it had the night before. Claire slipped out of the hold he had on her with the other arm and even in excruciating pain, he appreciated the sight of her sexy behind, leaving the room. It was even hotter when she came back in the room, completely nude and holding a glass of water and a bottle of pills. She sat the water at the bedside and opened the bottle. She shook two out in her hand and he grimaced and said, “Three…please.” When she cocked an eyebrow he said, “I’m a big guy.”

  She rolled her eyes, but she didn’t argue. She put the three pills in her palm and held it up to his mouth. There was something intimate and sexy to him about taking them off her hand with his lips. She held the water glass for him too as he sipped it and washed the pills down. He hoped they worked soon because the pain was fucking unbelievable. “Thank you.”

  She smiled. “You’re welcome. How about I shower and go find us something to eat while you get some more rest?”

  He curled his lip. “I’d rather you lay back down with me.”

  “You can’t take that much pain medication on an empty stomach. I’ll get us some coffee and pastries and be right back, okay?” He nodded, reluctantly.

  “Okay,” he said, as he dropped back down on the bed. He grimaced again, holding back the moan that wanted to escape his lips. He didn’t want her to think he was a bigass baby…but fuck, it hurt. He got to watch her leave the room again, which was nice. But he was back asleep before she finished showering and left. He didn’t know how much time passed before he was woken up to the wailing of his phone.

  “Hunter, it’s David. Dax found Angel, she’s alive.”

  “Thank fucking God. Is she okay?”

  “She’s pretty beat up, but she said he didn’t get a chance to…you know, touch her.”

  Hunter breathed a sigh of relief. Sometimes he wondered how women stood it, walking around next to a bunch of pigs all day who thought they had a right…he shrugged off that thought and concentrated on the fact that she was alive. “Did he get the guy that took her?”

  “No. That’s why I’m calling. Angel killed one of them, a guy named Sam Winters. He used to be a Skull. He is also Larry’s dealer’s father.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Yeah. Fucking mess. Anyways, we have prints on the other one and I ran them through CODIS this morning. This guy just got out of the pen…I mean literally, just got out yesterday. He’s been there since he was twelve years old.”

  “What the hell? Why would a guy who has been incarcerated his entire life want to get straight out and go after Dax Marshall’s old lady? Was he related to this Winters guy?”

  “I don’t know. We’re still working on all that. His name is Josiah Miller and he was arrested in 1999 for robbery and attempted murder. His mother disappeared before he was arrested, but there was no father listed on the birth certificate or any of the records I’ve been able to access so far. The only person who ever visited him in prison was Winters.”

  “Maybe Winters was his old man.”

  “Maybe, but the thing is, Sam had three kids. One was a daughter who took off years ago, one is Georgie Winters, Larry’s dealer, and the other is a guy named Charles Winters…”

  “Fucking Chuck.”

  “Yeah, that’s what we think. Charles was the only one of them that made good, unless the daughter did something with herself—I don’t know. Anyways, Chuck was an insurance salesman in Boston up until about three months ago. He got fired for fraud, but they didn’t bring any charges. My best guess is he needed cash and hooked up
with his family and this bullshit they’re trying to accomplish by pitting the Skulls and Street Chaos against each other. I’m just making an educated guess here too, but since Sam used to be a Skull and they took Angel, Dax is probably their primary mark.”

  “What does Dax say about all of this?”

  “I haven’t talked to him yet. He’s holed up with Angel at the hospital. He’s not going to leave her side. I did let Cody know what was going on, and Gunner. Cody remembers Sam. He was a friend of Cody’s old man…a real dickhead, according to Cody. He says he thinks he might have seen Chuck at the Bent Wrench a few weeks ago, but he didn’t remember exactly who the guy was at the time…”

  “Isn’t Cody’s last name Miller?”

  “Yeah, but he says he’s never heard of this Josiah guy.”

  “Hmm…seems like a big coincidence.”

  “Yeah, I think so too. What I need from you, if you’re up to it, is to talk to your contacts inside the prison and find out more about this Josiah guy. He’s ghosted on us and since he didn’t have any place listed as an address other than Winters’, we’re at a loss. I know they said no one else visited, but maybe some of the guards know who he ran with and who else might have gotten out recently that he might have hooked up with.”

  “Good idea. Yeah, I’ll work on that. Hey, how is Kyle?”

  “He’s stable. The asshole used fucking exploding bullets. Luckily, he only shot him once. The bullet missed his heart but he ended up with shrapnel in it. They cleaned that out and had to repair about a dozen of his arteries as well as a lot of soft tissue. He’s a strong son of a bitch, though. They say his vital signs are all good. They’re keeping him in a medically induced coma for a few days to keep the stress off his heart and give it time to heal. Which is good, because he’s even more stubborn than you. He’s going to be hell on wheels for those poor doctors and nurses.”

  Hunter chuckled; he could only imagine. “Well, that’s good news that he’s stable, I’m glad to hear that. Please give Angel my love when you see her and I’ll call you as soon as I have any information on this other character, Josiah Miller.”

  “Thanks, Hunter.” David ended the call and Hunter pressed in the number of one of his friends that worked inside the penitentiary. He was a parole agent, but he worked with the inmates on the inside, preparing them for life outside the walls. Hunter knew he took his job seriously, but sometimes people are just lost causes.

  “Chris! Hey, it’s Hunter, how the hell are you?”

  “Hangin’, old man, how are you?”

  Hunter glanced at his arm. The pain was down to a dull ache finally. “I’m great, but I was wondering if you could meet me for a drink this afternoon? I need a favor.”

  “I’m out of here in a few minutes at three,” Chris said.

  “Damn, is it almost three already?” Hunter had no idea he’d slept in so late. But, in his defense, it had to be after five a.m. when they finally went to sleep.

  “Yep. You been out partying with some hot little piece all night, or what?”

  Hunter thought about Claire and her erotic massage. “Something like that. Hey, let me ask you this, was Josiah Miller one of yours?”

  “No, but I saw him a few times when my partner was on vacation. What’s going on with Josiah?”

  “I’d rather tell you in person, and if there’s any information about him you can access in the meantime…” Chris had helped both Hunter and Chase in the past. He knew what kind of information Hunter wanted.

  “Alright, I’ll see what I can do,” Chris said.

  “Great! I can be in Suffolk County in an hour. Is there somewhere close to you we can meet?” Chris gave him the name and address of a bar not too far from the prison. As soon as Hunter ended the call, he got out of bed. The dull ache in his arm escalated to pain when he stood up. He groaned and held it close to his body as he hobbled over to the closet.

  “What are you doing?” Claire’s voice startled him. She was standing in the doorway with her hands on her slim hips. Damn, she’s hot. He smiled.

  “I have to run an errand.”

  “You’re supposed to be resting.”

  “I’m good. I won’t be gone long…”

  “You still have the rental car?”

  “No, Kat and David took that back.”

  “How do you plan on running this errand?”

  “Dax had one of the guys bring my bike out while I was in Rockport. It’s in the garage.”

  She furrowed her brows. “You think you’re riding your bike? How do you plan on doing that with one arm?”

  “Superman,” he said with another grin.

  “Stupid man is more like it. If this ‘errand’ is urgent, I’ll drive you.”

  “Nah, you don’t have to…”

  “Unless you’re going to see another woman, I’ll wait in the car and not get in on your business…but you cannot ride a Harley in your condition.” Hunter pulled a pair of jeans off a hanger and grabbed a shirt.

  “So, if I’m going to see a woman, you won’t wait in the car?”

  She snorted. “No.”

  With a little laugh he said, “Can I ask what you would do?”

  She had one hand on her hip and an eyebrow cocked as she said, “Probably use my pipe.” Hunter laughed hard at that. She was full of surprises, and he loved it.

  25

  Hunter and Claire walked into the little bar where they were meeting Chris. It was a cozy little bar for professionals, so Hunter felt comfortable taking Claire inside with him. Chris smiled when he saw him, and then raised an eyebrow and stood up, when he saw Claire.

  “Hey, man,” Chris said, holding out his hand. Hunter took it and as they shook Chris looked at his other arm and said, “What the hell happened to you?”

  “Long story. Thanks for meeting me. This is Claire. Claire, this is Chris, an old school buddy of mine.”

  He shook Claire’s hand and smiled. “Nice to meet you. Have a seat. What are you two drinking?”

  “I’ll have a beer,” Hunter said. Claire gave him a look that rivaled one of his mother’s as she took her seat. “I mean a Coke. Forgot, I’m on meds.” Chris looked like he was suppressing a smile. Hunter knew he’d hear about it later.

  “And you, Claire?”

  “Just water is fine.”

  “I’ll be right back.” He went up toward the bar and Hunter asked her:

  “You don’t drink?”

  She shook her head. “No, not for a long time.”

  “Oh…why?” The look on her face made him wonder if the question was too personal. Her father seemed to have a problem with substance abuse; maybe she did too and he’d just put his foot in his mouth.

  “Long story,” she said, with a sad little smile.

  “I’d like to hear it someday.” Chris was back, so Claire just nodded. Chris was drinking a beer, and as they all sipped their drinks Hunter told Chris the gist of what was going on. When he finished talking Chris whistled through his teeth.

  “I’m disappointed. I really thought that kid was going to try and make a life for himself. For the past five years he’s been an absolute model prisoner.”

  “What about before that?”

  “He was a handful in the youth authority and came to us at eighteen. He spent a lot of years in the security housing unit because of his affiliations with the white gangs, the skinheads. There was a murder on the yard and he was somehow involved in the fight. I remember that they tried to pin that murder on him, but of course nobody saw nothin’. He was involved in a lot of fights over the first five years and spent a lot of time in AD SEG, and then suddenly, five years ago, he straightened up and started focusing on getting his GED and getting out.”

  “Do you know if anything specific happened then, that made him want to suddenly be a good boy?”

  Chris shook his head. “No.” He opened a file in front of him on the table. “What I know about this kid is that he came from shit, and prison was where he was headed from day o
ne. The time I spent with him was interesting, to say the least. He straight-up told me that his mother was a whore. His old man, or the guy he thought was his old man, sounded like a regular piece of shit. But funny thing was, the kid worshipped him. He made some kind of hero out of him in his head.”

  “Do you know where the old man is now, or have a name on him?” Chris was flipping through the file and shaking his head.

  “I want to say that the kid told me he was dead…here they are…” He pulled some papers out of the file. They were stapled together and typed neatly. “This is my report.” He handed it to Hunter and while Hunter read through it, Chris made conversation with Claire. He heard her telling him about growing up in Italy and running the bed and breakfast now. He read the part of the file where Josiah Miller talked about his mother. Chris was right; sadly, the man had nothing positive to say about her…other than that she’d taken off. Chris had put in red parentheses that the man thought that was the best thing his mother had ever done for him. He turned the page and started reading what he’d written about the man’s father. Chris had put in quotations “He was a big son of a bitch, like a giant to a kid. He had this really deep laugh. He loved beer and pizza and motorcycles…he was in a club.” Hunter scanned the paragraph underneath it. The man had continued to sing his old man’s praises, but he didn’t mention what club the old man was in. There was also no name anywhere that he could see. At one point, Josiah mentioned Sam. What he said about him was “My dad has this friend, a brother, really, named Sam. Sam is like an uncle to me and he’s been the only one here for me since my father was murdered.”