Hell Hath No Fury

by RC Boldt

  57

  Kate

  Opening my eyes to glaringly bright white light and fog surrounding me, I glance around fearfully before realizing that I no longer feel pain. Instead, I’m left with a sense of weightlessness.

  Once the fog parts, my heart lodges in my throat at the sight before me. Nothing could dare stop me from running to them.

  The familiar scent of my father’s Old Spice cologne welcomes me as much as Willow’s arms wrapping around me when I stoop down to hold her tight. The burn from the onslaught of tears has me pinching my eyes closed.

  “I’ve missed you so much, baby.” I bury my face in her hair and whisper raggedly, “I love you.”

  “I love you too, Mama.”

  God, hearing her little voice once again is better than all my memories combined. Once she releases me, I straighten and turn to my father, whose smile is laced with sadness.

  “Baby girl, it’s not your time yet.”

  Confusion and denial pummel me. “What? What do you mean?”

  He steps closer and settles a hand on my shoulder. “We’re good here. You did what you needed to do for us. For you. But it’s not your time. You still have something left to live for. Promise us that you’ll make that life worth living.”

  His eyes crinkle at the edges, and the sight makes my heart lurch. “We’ll be waiting for you.” He lays a hand on Willow’s shoulder and smiles down at her before his eyes return to mine. “We’ll be watching over you.”

  Tears stream down my face, messily dripping past the corners of my lips. “But I want to stay with you. Please,” I beg. “Please let me stay with you.” My tear-filled eyes silently plead with my father, but it’s Willow who speaks.

  “Mama.”

  Turning my eyes to my beautiful girl, I bend my knees, and she places her hands on my cheeks. “You’re gonna wake up, but like Paw-Paw said, we’ll see you again.”

  “Promise us, baby girl,” my father says, urgency heavy in his tone. “Promise that you’ll make yours a life worth living.”

  My voice is weak, wavering even as I respond with, “I promise.” Grief assaults me as I whisper each word feeling as if they’re being pushed through a throat filled with razor blades. “But I miss you both so much.”

  “We miss you, too. But it’s time.” Willow gives me the sweetest of smiles. “Want me to give you sweet dreams kisses before you go?”

  I choke out a hoarse, “Please,” and close my eyes.

  She plants one tiny kiss to one eyelid. “Sweetest of dreams.” Then she lays another kiss to my other eyelid. “Sweetest of dreams.” One kiss to my forehead. “Sweet dreams, my love.” Then she says in a faint whisper, “I love you, Mama.”

  Before I can open my eyes, something pulls at me with such force that has my lungs burning a split second before searing pain bombards my body.

  “I’ve got you,” a male voice tells me. “Stay with me, Kate. Please. Stay with me.”

  The desperation threaded in the man’s tone and his pleas feel as though they physically tug at me. Once I find the strength to blink my eyes open and focus, it’s Hunter who stares down at me.

  Relief bleeds into his features. “Thank fuck.” With more gentleness than I expect, he smooths back my hair from my head, and I wince as he grazes a tender area.

  “That fucker slammed your head into the doorframe.” His chest heaves as though he’s run a marathon. “I couldn’t find your pulse and—” He cuts off abruptly, stamping his mouth shut in a flat line.

  I ease myself up into a sitting position, eyeing him warily. “I thought you were—”

  “I know.” A hint of remorse fills his eyes. “I had to go behind your back and set this up because I felt like it was the only way.” His throat works as he swallows hard. “I’m sorry.”

  “You weren’t going to…”

  His expression turns fierce. “Fuck no. I’d die before working for them.”

  I peer past him to where Deacon lies slumped on the floor. His eyes are closed, but his chest still moves with shallow breaths, which is far more than he deserves.

  Grabbing the knife lying beside me, I crawl over to the traitorous bastard’s body, ignoring the incessant pounding in my head and searing pain in my shoulder.

  My words are only for him, spoken with fury and between clenched teeth. “This is for Willow, you bastard.” With both hands gripping the knife, I drive it into his neck before dragging it across to the other side, indifferent to the gurgling sounds he makes as he chokes on his own blood.

  Withdrawing the knife, I stab him in the chest, following him down when he tips over on his side and continue stabbing his fast-growing limp body. My vision narrows, and I become incensed, needing him to experience the agony he caused.

  “That’s for Dad.” Another forceful stab as I ignore the tense muscles in my arms, the agonizing pain that radiates throughout my body with each lunging movement. Stab. “That’s for me.” Stab. “That’s for the lives you ruined.”

  Each time I impale him with the sharp blade, it sinks into his body more easily than the last. My movements are unstoppable now as I repeatedly pierce his flesh with the knife.

  I don’t notice the tears pouring down my cheeks that begin soaking Deacon’s expensive suit until large palms cut into my blurred vision to cinch my arms, my hands drenched in blood. The familiar firm chest at my back has me stiffening before going slack.

  “It’s over. You did it.”

  The knife drops from my grip, and I collapse against Hunter, letting him wrap me in his arms as I allow myself to truly cry for the first time.

  I cry for my father losing his life too early.

  I cry for how Willow was robbed of being able to grow up.

  I cry for the man I thought I knew and once loved.

  I cry for the future I imagined for us.

  I cry for the life I once had. For the woman I once was.

  Because at this moment, I’ve finally laid her to rest.

  58

  Hunter

  Three days later

  “You’re sure she’s okay?”

  I know I’ve asked this repeatedly, but I can’t help it. She scared the shit out of me.

  Doc Hogue gives me a patient smile. “She’ll be fine. It’s a grade-three-concussion, so she needs to continue avoiding bright light and stay inside and rest. The first few days are always the most crucial when patients need to be carefully looked after. And she’s past that window, thankfully.”

  I release a slow breath of relief. “Okay. Thanks.”

  Astute blue eyes rest on me. “You care for her.”

  Tipping my head in the direction of the door, I force out a gruff, “I’ll see you out.”

  The older man chuckles. “No need.” Sobering, he says, “Call me immediately if her condition changes.”

  “Will do.” It grates on me to have another man making demands about her, igniting some goddamn caveman instincts, but I know the old doc cares. “Thanks again.”

  I lock up behind him and return to the bedroom, where Kate lies, her dark hair fanning out on the white pillow. She looks considerably better, but I’m still worried as hell about her.

  She gazes up at me, a hint of amusement laced in her expression. “Please tell me that’s the last time you’ll make him come here and check on me.”

  I frown at her. “You know concussions shouldn’t—”

  “Be taken lightly,” she finishes for me. “Yes, I know.” Peeling back the covers, she pads over to the bathroom, calling over her shoulder, “I’m taking a shower. Maybe you can scrub my back?”

  Damn woman’s been after me, making my cock ache so bad I swore my balls were turning purple. But I don’t want to risk hurting her while she’s recovering.

  She carefully removes the T-shirt she stole from me along with her tiny excuse for sleep shorts. I lace my fingers atop my head and let out a groan, watching as she turns on the shower, adjusting the temp before stepping behind the shower curtain.

&
nbsp; Fuck. She’s my goddamn kryptonite.

  Tearing off my own clothes before I enter the bathroom, I grip the shower curtain, then tug it back to see water sluicing over the curve of her spine. I step in behind her, and her gasp echoes within the shower walls when I skim my hands up her sides to cup her breasts.

  “I’ve missed you.” She speaks so softly the sound of the water nearly drowns it out.

  Careful not to graze her injured shoulder where Doc applied skin glue a few days ago, I gather her wet hair aside before pressing my mouth to the side of her throat. I plant soft kisses along the curve of her neck and she arches, pressing into my touch.

  I toy with her nipples, desire raging through my veins at the way they tighten beneath my thumbs. Goddamn, she’s perfect. I tweak the tips again before she guides my one hand down over her stomach and lower.

  When I drag a thick finger through her folds, she breathes out, “I need you, Hunter,” before dropping her head back against my shoulder.

  Her words send a surge of arousal shuddering through me, and my cock twitches, begging to slide inside her.

  “Need to be gentle.” The showerhead pulses water over us while I circle her clit.

  “Fuck gentle,” she protests, pressing her ass firmly against my raging hard-on. “I need you.”

  Goddammit. I reach between us, guiding my broad head between her folds, and nudge gently. Kate braces her hands flat against the shower wall, widening her stance, and we each let out a hiss the instant I sink the tip inside.

  I pinch my eyes closed and grit my teeth. “You feel so goddamn good.” I inch deeper. “Fuck, yes.”

  With my hold on her hips anchoring her in place, I press in slowly, inch by inch—deeper, deeper, deeper, until…fuck.

  Her inner muscles contract around me, and I clench my jaw to restrain the urge to fuck her recklessly. That’s not what she needs.

  I open my eyes, my gaze traveling along her spine, noting the scars along the top of her shoulder and her side. The way the water droplets splatter against the tattoo curling from her neck to shoulder. The way she turns her head to look back at me with eyes gleaming with lust and affection. It’s a look I wish I could see for the rest of my fucking life.

  When I withdraw slowly, she whimpers, and I watch my dick sink back inside. I go slow even though she urges me on, telling me she wants it harder and faster. I want to draw this out. I need to savor it.

  I want to savor her.

  With each thrust, driving my cock in and out of her, I try to show her with my body what I can’t say with words.

  She’s just like Katniss; a fierce warrior who doesn’t realize how much power she holds.

  Fitting my mouth to the side of her neck, over her colorful ink, I graze my teeth along her skin and groan when her inner muscles contract around me in response.

  I trail my lips up to her earlobe. “Don’t ever fucking scare me like that again.” My hoarse command is punctuated with another thrust, and she gasps. With one hand on her breast, I toy with her nipple, loving the surge of wetness that coats my dick.

  “Then don’t leave me out of plans,” she manages to say breathlessly.

  Her pussy feels so goddamn good, her heat surrounding my hard length. “I had things under control.”

  “Not unless you expected my concussion”—she breaks off with a gasp when I roll my hips—“to happen.”

  Stubborn-ass woman. I nip at her neck and give a shallow thrust, reveling in her whimper. Her pussy clenches around me, but I know she needs more. My fingers find her clit, and I torment the fuck out of her, my thrusts becoming erratic as she tightens around me before she shatters.

  “Hunter.”

  I thrust deep, burying my cock inside her. Her pussy spasms around me before I let myself go, hips jerking as I spill inside her. My vision blurs as her inner muscles milk every fucking drop from me, my heart thundering so damn hard in my chest, practically threatening to burst free.

  The water rains down on us, and I press my lips to her tattoo, mouthing the words I can’t bring myself to say.

  I love you.

  It’s ten at night, and we both need our rest. As I lie on my back, Kate automatically curls alongside me in bed, her head on my shoulder and palm over the center of my chest. With my arm draped loosely around her, I’m careful of her healing shoulder.

  I close my eyes knowing I have a full day tomorrow. I set up a meeting for Warren and two guys Doc Hogue had suggested from the U.S. Marshals office.

  Of course, I was sure to vet the men first, and it was a relief when everything showed they weren’t dirty and embroiled neck-deep in the Dixie Mafia. I’ll be dropping the laptop I’d confiscated from Hayden with Warren for safekeeping.

  “After everything…” Kate starts off softly, her warm breath washing over my skin. She clears her throat. “Where do you go from here?”

  Staring up at the dark ceiling, I struggle with how to answer. Internally, a tug-of-war battle takes place, but logic wins in the end even as the arm I have wrapped around her tightens instinctively.

  “Back to work like usual.”

  Her body tenses slightly beneath my arm. “You never gave any thought to maybe…retiring?”

  My mouth flattens before I force out a response in an even tone. “You kill enough evil in this world, eventually you become the same evil you’ve been eliminating.” My voice drops lower, and it bleeds regret. “There’s no way out for me.”

  “Not even if…” I know what she’s not saying, but I don’t prod her to finish. Kate snuggles closer, and I close my eyes, vowing to commit this to memory. Fuck, I’ll commit every goddamn moment with her to memory, branding it on my brain so I’ll have something to comfort me for years to come.

  To remind me that I had a little piece of heaven amidst the hell.

  I force out the words through a bone-dry throat, “Get some rest.” Dusting a light kiss to the top of her head, I whisper, “Night, Katniss.”

  It’s only once sleep starts to pull me under that I hear the faintest whisper of, “I love you, Hunter.”

  And with her in my arms and those three little words lingering between us, I have one of the best nights of sleep ever.

  59

  Kate

  Christmas Eve

  “What’re you doing?”

  I pause in packing my bag and turn to face him. Having finally returned from supplying Warren with the laptop and doing whatever surveillance tasks he had planned, Hunter stands in the bedroom doorway with one hand braced on each side of the opening.

  His brows furrow, lips pressed thin in concern, and my breath suspends painfully in the center of my chest at the sight of that chiseled jawline—the same one I’ve kissed dozens of times.

  The face of the man I’m leaving.

  Exhaling a shaky breath, I wet my bottom lip nervously. “I’m packing up my things to leave.”

  “But your concussion—”

  “I’m fine,” I interrupt, before rushing on with, “Doc said so. And I’ll be traveling mostly through the night, so I don’t have to worry about bright light bothering me.” I add a muted, “I put the keys on the dining room table. Rent is covered for the next few months, if you need the place.”

  His eyes bore into mine as though they’re seeking answers to what I’m not saying. It makes me decide to voice it. If I’ve learned anything from all of this, it’s that life is too short to have regrets. To not say what you mean. To not share how you truly feel about someone.

  “I never told you about the sign I saw a while ago.” I force a conversational tone, turning my back to him while I fold a few more things and stack them neatly, preparing them to be packed. “It said, ‘Live a great story. Life’s too short to give up before The End.’ And that’s what I want.”

  Slowly, I turn back around to face him, inwardly begging for him to respond or offer at least some modicum of a reaction.

  Instead, I get nothing.

  I drag in a much-needed breath before forging
on. “I want a great story, and the only way to do that is to start over.” Lifting my eyes to his, I continue, “I thought you might want to—”

  “You thought what? That I’d just up and join you?” Voice sharp as steel, his words possess a devastating mix of finality and pain, disintegrating any hope I might have left. “I’m not that man. I never will be.”

  Silence hangs between us, and I shouldn’t beg—I know I shouldn’t—but I can’t help the words that spill past my lips in a faint whisper. “But you could be.”

  His expression shutters in that instant, and it’s all the answer I need.

  “You’re more afraid of being with me than continuing to live like this?” My voice rises in volume. “This isn’t living! Don’t you see that? You’re in the shadows, and I just…” I lose momentum, the strength of my voice declining incrementally, emotion causing my throat to swell. “I just wish you’d walk with me in the sun.”

  When he remains silent, I duck my chin, hating that I’ve opened myself up to him. Perhaps I’m meant to be alone—that it’s my penance for all of this. Even though I know I’ve done some good, I still took lives.

  “I’m not that guy, Kate. I’m not who I was before. You deserve that guy. The one who worked his ass off to achieve his goals and dreams. The one who thought he was making a difference.”

  His features turn tortured, voice growing thick with emotion. “That guy deserved you. But not me. I have too much blood on my hands.” Hunter’s features turn to granite. “I kill for a goddamn living. There are no picket fences and babies in my future.” A flash of remorse flits across his face, but in the blink of an eye, the hard expression settles back in place.

  “In another life, I could join you. On that beach in Costa Rica…” He falters, but then his lips press into a flat line as he swallows hard. “It’s too late for me, but you have a chance to start over. To be whoever you want. To have exactly the kind of life you want.”