HUNTED: A Bad Boy Romance (Books 1-5)

by Kira Matthison

  I didn’t even bother responding. They were lying, and they knew it. They didn’t want—

  They didn’t want me to make a scene. I waited until he was close, his hands out as he backed me into the corner of the main room, and then I drew in my breath and screamed as loud as I could, right in his face. He jerked back, wincing, and I slammed my knee up into his groin, punched at his chest, and swore—he was wearing some kind of body armor.

  My fist was smarting and I didn’t have the will to punch again. I screamed again, for good measure, and ducked under his arm, running for the door with every ounce of speed I could muster.

  It wasn’t enough. I felt arms come around my waist and I staggered sideways. We rolled and I only had time to see the flash of blood and absolute murder in the first attacker’s eyes.

  “You little bitch.”

  I slammed my hand sideways at his throat and he let go of me, choking. I was up and running again. I didn’t know where I was going, I just knew that if I went with them, nothing good was going to come of it. No one sent people dressed like this when they had good intentions. I pounded down the hallway as they piled after me and slammed my way out into the sunlight.

  Should I scream again? I was still trying to figure that out when I saw the SUV, still running, with tinted windows.

  Oh, hell no. I took off again, wincing at the feel of gravel on my feet, but I had hesitated too long. A hand tangled in my hair and dragged me down onto the pavement before the guy wrenched me to my feet again.

  “You think anyone’s going to come help you?” he asked cruelly. He pulled out a gun and pointed it at my face, his other hand still holding my head wrenched back. “No one is. They’re all looking out their windows right now, wondering what you did to deserve this. None of them are even thinking of helping you. So get in the damned car, and if you hit me again, I’ll—”

  Tires screeched and he looked up. Held in place, my skin bleeding on the concrete, his hand in my hair, I couldn’t move, but I knew enough to feel a traitorous flicker of hope. As the gun swung away from me, and up, I made my getaway, crawling and pushing myself up.

  A roar sounded from behind me and the bang of a gun, and I froze, looking down at myself, waiting for the sudden spread of blood like you always saw in movies. Would it hurt? Would dying hurt?

  But it wasn’t me who’d gotten shot. There was a yell and a sickening crunch from behind me, and I looked around just in time to see a figure slam into the second of the three men.

  Jack. My mouth dropped open in shock. He was here, and he was kneeling over the second attacker, his fist bloody as he punched the man once, twice, three times—

  My eye caught the hint of movement.

  “Jack!”

  But he couldn’t hear me, was beyond the sound of my voice. With a sob of fear, I cast around for something, anything.

  The gun. One of the guys had dropped his gun. Blood was spreading from under his body on the pavement and I tried not to puke as I ran for the pistol. I didn’t know how to hold it, and my hands were shaking so hard that I could hear a rattle, my ring against the metal.

  I didn’t need to know much, though. As the last man circled behind Jack, pulling a knife out of his belt, I raised the gun and pulled the trigger.

  The shot slammed him sideways and jerked my arm up. I screamed, or at least, I was pretty sure I did, and then the gun was yanked out of my hands and Jack’s hand was clamped around my arm.

  “Come on.”

  I nodded. I couldn’t remember a single word. I just let him drag me over to the door of the apartment building, where Cecilia was shrinking back into the shadows.

  “Jack—”

  But he only grabbed the phone out of her hands and yanked me away to his own car, still idling on the corner. He pushed me into the passenger seat and I curled into a ball as the car peeled away into traffic and the wail of sirens sounded in the distance.

  It was a long time before I remembered how to talk, and a lot longer before I was brave enough. We stopped a ways away at a gas station, and Jack disappeared and came back with donuts and some truly terrible coffee. He put the donut in my hand and gave me a look before pulling away again. I could see that we were circling the city, heading away.

  “Where are we going?” I managed finally.

  “Back to my place.” He sighed. “Just…roundabout. In case anyone’s following.” He checked the rearview mirror.

  I nodded and looked down at the donut. I took a nibble, because it was the only thing I could think of to do, and then, even as the sweetness hit me—too much, way too much—I took another huge, ravenous bite. How long since I had eaten? Almost a day?

  “We’ll get you some real food soon,” he promised me.

  I gulped down the last of the donut and looked over at him, and to my horror, I felt tears welling up in my eyes. I wiped my mouth and looked away, trying to hide my weakness. What the fuck was I doing here? What had I just done?

  “Did I…kill him?”

  He hesitated. “What do you want me to say?”

  “I don’t want to have killed someone,” I whispered, before I could stop myself.

  The look he gave me was full of pity. “Well. There were police on the way. They probably got him to a hospital.”

  I couldn’t tell if he was lying or not, but it was plausible. “What if he tells them about you?”

  “He’s not going to want to tell him why he was there.” Jack’s mouth quirked, but I saw worry in his eyes. “I’d rather not have done this during the day, though.”

  “I’m so sorry.” I shook my head. “You were right. It was dumb to leave.”

  He said nothing, but his fingers tightened on the steering wheel.

  “I shouldn’t have…” I tipped my head back against the seat. “I shouldn’t have trusted her.”

  “She’s your sister.”

  “How d’you know that?” I picked my head up.

  “How did you think I knew where to find you?” He gave a half-smile. “I started looking for your family so I could figure out where you’d gone.”

  I twisted my ring on my finger, pressing my lips together.

  “You came back for me.”

  He shrugged.

  “Why?”

  He only shook his head, and I sighed again, rolling my head to look out the window.

  He let the silence sit for a few seconds. Then, almost awkwardly, he cleared his throat. “You couldn’t have known she’d do that.”

  “I could, though. I should have.” I shook my head. “I keep thinking the old Ceci’s gonna come back someday, and I should know better by now. She’s not who she was.”

  He nodded. He wasn’t going to pry, that much was clear, and almost because of that, I felt the words spill out.

  “She had a hard time in high school. Like, a really hard time. She was getting beat up all the time and I tried to look out for her but I was…” I shook my head. “I didn’t help as much as I should have. She never wanted to tell me who was doing it and I didn’t push her. I should’ve pushed her.”

  Jack opened his mouth, whether to argue or agree I didn’t know, but closed it again with a little shake of his head. He had looped back into the city and we were pulling into a neighborhood that looked familiar. He gestured at me to keep going.

  “Our mom was no help.” I shook my head. “It was like…every month, she had a new boyfriend, and she loved him more than anything, and he was perfect. And they never were. They took her money. They got her into drugs. Not important. Anyway, things almost got better with Ceci for a while. My mom didn’t have a boyfriend, everything was…almost okay. And then she met Sully.”

  “Her husband.”

  He had done his research. I looked at him with a new sense of respect. “Yeah. And when I tried to get Mom into it to talk some sense into Ceci—I mean, who knew better than Mom, you know?—she had a new boyfriend, too. And the two of them just…” I shook my head. “I should have done more.”

 
; “You can’t save people who don’t want to be saved.” Jack’s voice was grim.

  “They were my family,” I whispered. “And all I could think about was getting out before it got me, too.”

  “Drugs?”

  I pressed my lips together on my answer and shook my head as he pulled the car to a stop. He came around to open the door for me and I felt my lips quirk at that bit of etiquette.

  “What if they trace the car?”

  “They won’t. It’ll be gone in a couple of hours. Come on.”

  He led me up the stairs of his apartment building and into the familiar space. The light and the cleanliness seemed almost like heaven after Cecilia’s place.

  “Sit there,” he instructed, pointing at the couch. “I need to clean your leg up. And at some point, we’ll need to get you shoes.”

  I gave a grimace as I sat. Buying clothes meant this wasn’t temporary.

  He worked at my leg in silence for a while, his hands surprisingly gentle, and though I steeled myself for jokes, he didn’t make any mention of this morning, or my stupid kiss.

  “What were you going to say?” he asked finally. He didn’t look up. “In the car. You didn’t want it to get you. What was it?”

  I looked down at my hands. “You’ll think it’s dumb.”

  He looked up at me, just looked.

  I shrugged. “Love.”

  He sat back on his heels at that, bloody cloth in hand, staring at me with a bemused smile.

  “I told you you’d think it was dumb.” I looked away. “It was always what fouled them up, though. They’d get a little better, they’d get their life together, and then…bam. Another boyfriend. They were in love, they couldn’t see the truth about these people. And they just got dragged back down to nothing like they didn’t even care.” He still didn’t say anything to that, and I met his eyes defiantly. “Love is a dead end,” I told him. “It makes people stupid.”

  “Hard to argue with you on that one.” His voice was mild.

  “You agree?”

  He considered it, actually took a moment to think. “Yeah,” he said finally.

  “Oh.” I sat back. No one had ever agreed with me about this before, and I couldn’t tell quite how I felt.

  Oddly disappointed. Why was I disappointed?

  I pushed the questions away. “Well, yeah. Love’s a dead end. It’s useless, just like lust.”

  “Oh, lust isn’t useless.” He gave me a once over that turned my bones to water, and then—mercifully—let it go. “Up. If you’re staying here again, I’ll make up the couch.”

  Chapter 13

  Jack

  “So what’s your plan?” I carried the sheets back into the main room and raised my eyebrows at her. I’d set her up with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, which appeared to have disappeared in record time. Adrenaline did a number on people, I reminded myself. Frankly, I was surprised she was still standing; a lot of people simply passed out when the adrenaline left them, completely worn out.

  She did look a bit out of it, though.

  “Mmm?” She looked up and came to help me with the sheets. She shook one out, still absentminded, and began to tuck it under the couch cushions.

  I was trying not to smile as I watched her. She was practically drowning in my workout gear, and it was oddly endearing—as well as the fact that she was helping. That, combined with her sister’s apartment and what little research I’d been able to do, was painting a very different picture of Lara Thomas than any of my guesses.

  Somewhat to my disquiet, all of the facts seemed to fit with the first impression I’d had of her: innocent, unused to the world and its machinations. It wasn’t that she didn’t know what the world could do to people, I saw now, it was that she knew all too well and had tried to hide from it. She was determined—almost scrappy. And she hadn’t been born to mansions and diamonds, either. She didn’t think she was better than apartments or making up beds or any of it.

  I shook my head at myself. I didn’t need to be getting a good opinion of her. I needed to be getting rid of her. That was my plan: find her a place to go that was out of Adrian’s reach, and then get going. I didn’t need to be trying to figure her out. I didn’t need to be turning that ridiculous speech about love and lust over in my head, trying to find ways to argue with her.

  Hell, I agreed with her, didn’t I?

  “Jack?” She was staring at my, a tentative smile on her lips.

  “Right. Sorry. Uh, what’s the plan?”

  “Oh.” Her shoulders hunched and she looked down at her hands. “Oh,” she said again.

  There was a long pause.

  “I don’t exactly…have a plan,” she admitted finally.

  I scratched my head. Neither did I. This wasn’t how I liked to operate.

  “Excuse me.” There was a bit of desperation in her voice, and she almost ran toward the bedroom. I heard the door close a moment later, hard but not slammed.

  I hesitated before I went after her. She was crying, and I should probably just let her cry. Tears weren’t going to do her any good, after all. The sooner she learned that, the better. But my feet carried me to the door and I found myself pushing it open.

  She had her knees curled up to her chest, the scrapes on her leg vivid against her pale skin, and she was trying to stifle her sobs against one hand. When I sat next to her and put an arm around her awkwardly, not quite sure what I was supposed to do—stroke her hair? Say it was going to be okay?—she leaned her head on my shoulder and I felt her give into it.

  I sat stiffly, trying not to betray my own incompetence, but she didn’t even seem to notice. Her hand clenched in my shirt and she rocked back and forth as she sobbed. By the end of it, she was curled in my lap and the front of my shirt was soaked with tears. Her breathing slowed gradually, until I almost wondered if she might be asleep. When I tried to pick her up, however, she twisted her head to look up at me.

  “I’m sorry I cried.”

  “No, I…think I get it.” I had the urge to gather her close, and froze. I needed to get out of here before I did something I’d regret. I took a deep breath as she squirmed a little in my lap, grinding against me without meaning to while I willed my body not to respond. Maybe I could get to the gym for a sparring match. That should help.

  “What do I do now?” She settled into my arms.

  I looked up at the ceiling and said a silent prayer for self-control. This felt right, somehow, and it needed not to.

  “I…don’t know what you should do,” I admitted. “I’m sorry.” Why was I apologizing? How could I possibly know what she should do in this situation?

  “It’s not your fault.” She shook her head and scooted back off my lap.

  Thank Heaven for small mercies.

  She brushed her hair out of her eyes. “You’ve done way more than you had to.”

  “I couldn’t—”

  “No, I was…” She squared her shoulders. “Look, I’m really sorry for what I said this morning.”

  I tried not to jerk away, but she saw the look in my eyes.

  “It wasn’t right,” she said, almost desperately. “It was a terrible thing to say. You’re right, you didn’t kill me. You didn’t. You…you brought me back here to keep me safe.”

  I shrugged. “Get some sleep.”

  I would have stood up, but she reached out to take my hand.

  “I mean it,” she said earnestly. “And, look—you should sleep in here. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

  “No.” It was a kneejerk. Whatever code of honor one went by, the lady did not sleep on the couch.

  Her laugh said she knew exactly what was going through my head. “It’s okay, really it is.”

  “No.” I stood up, trying not to get drawn in, and gave an unwilling laugh when she yanked me back down. “You should get some sleep.”

  “I will, on the couch.” She was giggling as she slid off the bed, holding me in place with her hands on my knees.

  I swallowed
hard. Suddenly, her face was very close. Her laugh trailed off and she bit her lip. Her fingers clenched, lightly, on my legs.

  And before I could stop myself, I reached out to take her face in both hands and draw her down for a kiss.

  Chapter 14

  Lara

  I swayed into him. I was bent awkwardly, but I couldn’t pull my lips away from his. When he took his hands from my face at last, I almost whimpered—but it was only to pull me into his lap, his lips still locked on mine as my hips settled against his. I could feel how hard he was already. Desire stabbed through me and some wanton, reckless part of me had me grinding myself against him. He gave a groan, his arms wrapping around me to pull me closer.

  I was burning up inside, kissing him desperately. All I wanted was more—more of his hands on my back, sliding down to my ass. More of his chest under my hands and the rock-solid feel of his muscles as he lay back.

  My hair fell around us in a curtain as we kissed, and I gave one, wondering thought to how I must look: not made up, not dressed in expensive lingerie. I had scrapes and bruises on my skin and shadows under my eyes, and I had still never once felt as sexy as I did right now. There was no reserve in him as he pulled me closer, no hesitation, no distaste.

  “You’re perfect,” he groaned.

  Had he heard my thoughts?

  “I…” I couldn’t think of anything to say. “I want you,” I whispered.

  My cheeks flamed at that, but he didn’t laugh. He rolled, pinning me, and his hips jerked against mine. When I gave a gasp of pleasure, I saw him smile. He drew me up for another kiss, hand at the back of my head to hold me closer, and I wrapped my legs around his waist.

  He let the kiss deepen. His breath mingled with mine and I could feel his heart racing against my palm. Our hips were moving together, and I was desperate to know how it would feel to have him—

  Inside me. My eyes flew open and I pushed him away.

  How did he do this to me?

  “Oh, God.” I sank my face into my hands.

  “Lara.” His voice was deep and it made me shiver. God, I wanted him. I wanted him touching me again, pressed up against me again. I wanted to know—