Hunter: MC Romance (Hell Reapers MC Book 1)

by Liz Lorde

  She brought her hand up to cover her trembling lip, and when she spoke, the whip was in her voice, “Stop yelling at me,” she demanded. How dare she. “Yes,” anger and pain dripped from her tone, “I was writing about you, about you and the Hell Reapers.” Anger colored her face.

  The muscles in my jaw jumped, “You even realize what that would do?” I snarled, “you want to put my family away for good? You disgust me, Jessica. You fucking lied about everything.”

  “I had to! I dropped it, okay? I told my boss I couldn’t do it and it fucked me,” she’s lying and you know it. Jessica wound back her arm and shot a pillow at me. As it flew over to me, I swatted it with the back of my hand. “You asshole,” she yanked at the blankets on the bed and repositioned herself, her nose flaring. “The money for doing it would have been for her. This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you. I, I didn’t even fucking know how.”

  And then I said something that I knew I would regret. One of those dark, invasive thoughts that takes hold of you and when you think them, worse so, when they part your lips, you feel like they’re coming from someone else entirely. “If you really loved me, you would have told me,” I was clenching my teeth so hard, balling my fist so tightly that my hand trembled. I flung the journal at the wall, a sense of twisted satisfaction crashing over me: “I hope you never get to say goodbye to her.”

  Jessica went dead on the inside, and screamed at me to get out. I could feel the hurt in her as she wailed, as she called me every name that she could imagine in those terrible moments that didn’t seem real.

  None of this was real. Never was.

  I threw my weight against the door, swinging it from its partially opened state, and stormed off into the black.

  Chapter 25

  Jessica

  It’d been weeks since that terrible night, and I’d tried to bury myself in the horribly menial work that my boss would give me. He was less than pleased with my refusal to write the article on the Hell Reapers; I’d tried suggesting, at the time, that I could put a positive light on their club, that they were more than just the thugs he saw them as.

  Sabrina could be heard talking to the guy at the front door, with Barristan not far behind her. We were at her place, but outside of work, I didn’t feel comfortable without taking my dog with me. The pressure of it all was starting to get me, and I knew that I could at least always confide and count on my little guy.

  Mr. Gates just wouldn’t have what I was trying to sell, no matter how I tried to make him see it. And I wouldn’t budge on the issue. He said that he couldn’t understand where I was coming from, why I would turn down the money and the prestige of having my name on something real, something that would inflame the public. He hated me for spinning smoke and taking what checks I could get, and promised me that if it wasn’t for what was going on with my mother, he’d have fired me on the spot.

  But I didn’t cry then. No. I saved that for when Hunter so coldly lashed out at me, when he filled my head and my heart with utter fear at his reign of terror. I’d never seen him like that before, and it scared me. I cried until I fell asleep that night. The only thing getting me through all of this was Barristan and the understanding of Sabrina.

  I should have told him when I had the chance. Should have listened to what Holly had said. Knew that I was playing with fire, but the fear was in me. The fear of losing something so fleeting and beautiful, something that I didn’t even feel like I was worthy of anymore. I wanted to tell him, I know I did…now all that remained was the bitterness, and the hurt.

  Sabrina sashayed back with the Chinese food in hand, Barristan walking by her side. She set it down on the coffee table and found her seat back on the couch. “Try and eat some real food,” she encouraged, squeezing my arm, “or well, as real as food as takeout can be I guess.”

  I glanced her way as I brought the spoonful of cherry and nuts ice-cream to my lips, lazily feeding myself the cold deliciousness. The spoon clinked audibly against my teeth as my lips devoured it; I said nothing and rigidly repeated the action.

  Rolling her eyes, Sabrina went for her container of food. She opened up the white, durable box and the aroma of orange chicken wafted through the apartment. She let out a happy sort of squeal and undid the wrapping to her plastic fork, impaling a gooey morsel that glinted beneath the lightning of the living room. Sabrina popped it in her mouth and chewed, her eyes closing and her body sinking a couple of inches further into the couch – delighted tones escaping her.

  I continued to go ham on the pint of ice cream, promising myself that if I kept this up – I’d sit down and google a tutorial on how to make a knight’s armor out of the carton’s brethren. “Sorry,” I offered between bites, “I’ll eat it…eventually.” My hand went for the remote and I turned up the volume on Sabrina’s TV.

  Barristan moved beneath my feet and sniffed along the floor, until he found himself the perfect spot beside my foot.

  “It’s okay,” Sabrina replied, “I just want to make sure, you know, you actually have something in that tiny stomach of yours. Besides a bowling ball’s worth of frozen dairy product.”

  The spoon clinked in my mouth again, “I need to get a second job,” I told her.

  “That bad, huh?”

  “Yeah, after bailing on that piece – there’s nothing left for me there. I’m being given hours, but there’s not a chance in hell I’ll move up the ladder.”

  Sabrina crossed a long leg over the other, “I thought you still had shifts at White Castle.”

  “Stopped doing those,” I sat what remained of the pint of ice cream down on the table, “no chance I’m going back, either. The manager wouldn’t stop harassing me. Every week I’m not building towards that sum, my mother’s chances of beating this shit are just going down and down.”

  Sabrina brushed back her hair, “My offer still stands from before, you know.”

  I gave her a weak smile, “Thank you, seriously. I just wish I was close enough to take you up on it.”

  “Have you heard from him at all?” She asked with this odd hopefulness to her voice.

  “No,” my tone was curt, but I felt these strings yank at my heart. Just the simple thought of him was enough to make me feel so much.

  “I know he didn’t take it well,” Sabrina started and then turned to face me, criss-crossing her legs over one another with the container of chicken resting on her lap. “And I mean, I know you didn’t take it well either – but don’t you think you two should, you know, talk about it? You basically told Gattis—“

  “Gates,” I corrected.

  “Gates, sorry, to meet a few strangers in the alps,” I had genuinely no idea what she meant by that. “That counts for something. Yeah you should have told him, but I don’t blame you for not doing so. Life’s easy to judge, but living it’s something else.” She ate a few more pieces of her meal. “Now that I’m here and eating, and thinking about it. Are you still having that weird problem?”

  “Gee let me spin the wheel of misfortune and try and figure out which one you’re talking about now.”

  “Very funny,” Sabrina wrinkled her nose at me, stifling a laugh, “the milk going missing, was it?”

  “It didn’t go missing,” I explained, “I must have just drank more than I remembered. And like, I don’t know if I’m losing my mind or what but I swear lately things just aren’t where I remember them. Small stuff. Like plates or my keys, mostly stuff in the kitchen.”

  “Do you think someone’s getting into your house?”

  “Nah, can’t be. They’d have been caught by now by the only boy I could ever trust.” I brought my legs up and plopped my feet down on the coffee table, trying to sink myself into the couch. I glued my eyes to the screen flashing images of Cops and wondered if I pushed hard enough, that maybe the furniture would swallow me whole and the world would just forget about me forever. “It’s not as simple as talking, you know. To Hunter,” I said it with this dead cadence, I felt like I was watching mysel
f watching TV.

  I hadn’t told Sabrina every detail of that night, and I definitely didn’t tell her what Hunter said about my mother.

  Forgiving him for that…felt impossible. Hate me? Yeah, I could see that – I didn’t like it, but I could see it. But going beyond me and attacking the only family I had left?

  Sabrina sighed, “Honey, like ninety percent of the time it is that simple. We’re just too stubborn to realize that, usually,” she opined.

  “Doesn’t matter,” I droned, “not like I want to see him anyway.”

  Sabrina howled at that, nearly spilling her food from her lap.

  I shot her and confused and concerned look.

  “Sorry,” she said, “but that my friend, is a huge load of B U L L shit.” Barristan perked up his head, the tag of his collar ringing out and his ear stuck itself out suddenly.

  “I want nothing to do with him,” I protested, scrunching my face, “he’s an asshole.”

  “Maybe,” she said, “never got to meet him myself, so you could be right.”

  “I am right.”

  “You’re miserable without him, I can tell.”

  I exhaled a hard breath through my nose, “Only a little bit. Nothing I can’t get past.”

  “Yes, but is it something you really want to get past? All I’m saying, is that I’ve seen you at your low, and I’ve seen you at your high. For the brief while you were ‘with’ this dude, in whatever capacity – you were soaring up there with the angels, babe.”

  Invisible fingers pressed against my heart, and a small, sad smile tugged at the corner of my lips. “Soared too high then,” I told her, “now I’m all burned up. Still want me around?”

  She waved a hand and popped more orange chicken into her mouth. She then leaned over me and grabbed the controller from my side of the couch, giving Barristan a quick ‘hello’ look. Sabrina casually flicked through the channels and said, “I’ll always want you around. Mopey. Mad. Haven’t showered in the past three days depressed because you got ran over by the mack truck known as love.”

  “I showered!” I practically barked, “I mean. Yeah…I showered,” I was saying it far too defensively.

  Sabrina just raised her eyebrows.

  We shared a brief moment of looking at one another before I stood up, nearly stepping on the poor pup. I grabbed the pint of cherry and nuts ice-cream and sighed, “I’ll go shower now. But I’m eating this in there and you can’t stop me.”

  “Atta girl.”

  Chapter 26

  Hunter

  “Ehy, you lookin’ kind-uh distracted dawg,” Franklin Neer openly commented. Some windbreaker suited man in his middle ages walked by us, with a set of ear buds blocking out the world around him, his sneakers tapping against the concrete pavement of the well-kept park.

  Images of Jessica swam through my mind, and my inner self roiled in pain. I’d agonized ever since that stupid night, wondering how I could have been such a damn fool.

  “Nah,” I lied, “I’m good. I’m here.” We were in the heart of Whittaker district, meeting at our usual spot in Cassidy Park – some little slice of grass and tree that was flanked on all sides by busy roads and constantly frequented streets. On either end of us were various brownstones and ‘low’ rent hellholes of apartments; this was basically your only place to walk the yapping, manic demons others liked to pretend were dogs.

  “A’ight,” Franklin nodded his head. He was a mischievous character, tall and lanky, he stretched up high like a giraffe on the bench. He had a mess of thick, fuzzy brown hair that was all fluffed up; and anytime that you were lucky to catch his surprisingly white teeth, you’d also see that Cheshire smile. Franklin dipped his hand into the pocket of his green cargo pants, producing a cigarette and a lighter.

  “I need to know what’s going on with the Niners,” I told him, “any other day I’d shoot the shit, but I got things I’ve got to do.” Some girl and her boyfriend passed us, and her airy laugh made me think of Jess. Think of her wild hair and her sports car like curves. My heart tapped against my breastbone when I remembered what it was like to be inside of her, to feel her clamping around my cock.

  I missed her eyes, and her laugh and her everything. Fuck.

  Franklin bobbed his head and lit the cigarette, turning the end of it cherry red. He sucked in the smoke deep, and the flame ate away leaving a nub of gray ash. The light from his cigarette illuminated his dark skin, showed the pale milk-white scars across his knuckles on those humongous hands. “Yeah bruh,” he sighed, pushing out all of that smoke and looking to me, “I feel ya.”

  I cracked my knuckles, a series of loud pops punctuating the air as I expectantly waited for him to talk. But the man was right, I was only partially here. My other half was caught in the darkness; faded between the breaths I was taking and the words that haunted me from that moment before – looped in a misery that just wouldn’t let go. Small daggers of agony plunged through every major part of my body, like a curious magician was following me around and thoughtfully pushing a knife into me, just to see how I’d react.

  Franklin snapped his fingers, “Hey,” he said with the cigarette moving along with his lips, “hey c’mon man, pay the fuck some attention,” he sucked on that stick of ash again. “Niners are hitting up a new supply.”

  “New supply?” I asked like I’d just woken up from a coma and had spent the last couple of weeks operating a fork in the incorrect manner.

  “Yeah,” Franklin rested the elbows of his arms against his knees, “and they havin’ a meet soon. Can’t say f’sure the day yet.”

  “They’re switching from Rocko?” I shook my head, “that makes no goddamn sense. Must be getting the same dope for cheaper, because there’s no way they’re getting a better product. Never been a game in town with a better high than Rocks.” This was excluding Fernando of course, but he wasn’t a bulk dealer.

  Franklin shrugged and he moved a hand through his bouncy strands of hair. “Jus’ what I know bruh, you know?”

  “Yeah,” I sighed. “This a big deal?”

  “Oh indeed,” Franklin tittered nervously and grabbed the cigarette from his lips, “f’you thinkin’ what I bet’chu are, tellin’ you now that you’d bess re-think. Mad money yo,” he shook his head in a gesture of warning, his eyes pleading more so than his mouth. “You know wh’happens with the mad money. Mad heat. Madder game.”

  “It’s a mad world, Franklin.”

  “Is when you dogs go rabid,” he articulated, placing the cigarette back on his thick lips. He sucked in a breath and stretched his arms out against the back of the bench, one hand hovering close to me. “S’a buck fitty for that alone, ‘nother buck for where it happens—“

  “And another hundred for when you get any more details, I know, I know.”

  Franklin gave me that mischievous, Cheshire smile. “Yeah son, you know the game. You play it smooth. Not like Rey,” some kind of deep, full-body laughter rumbled from Franklin’s chest.

  I laughed too, “He’d just beat your happy ass.”

  He howled at that and a woman in red that was passing by walking her dog gave us a funny look. Franklin followed her with his eyes, watching her backside before sliding his gaze to me and chuckling. “Since we so tight, I’ll let you get at me with the money later – word is, it’s goin’ down at Rykers in the parkin’ lot.” Rykers? That place has been abandoned for nearly a decade. It’s a dead part of town. Nothing but ghosts and graffiti at that shipping yard, save for a couple of teenagers running wild and the rare homeless hoping for shelter. Even those races weren’t always hosted there.

  I sucked in a breath. “Thanks brother, I’ll do right by you,” I lifted myself off of the bench and to my feet, turning to face Franklin. I clasped hands with him and we shared an acknowledging head nod before I departed. As I walked away, I turned my head back to look at him – sitting there relaxed as could be, his head looking up at the black sky as shafts of smoke rolled from his mouth.

  Chapter 2
7

  Jessica

  My hand felt strange, it felt wet and I couldn’t come to an understanding as to why I could not move. Opening my eyes, with vision blurry, I saw the blackness of my room and felt that weird wet sensation on my hand again. Waking groans rolled from my chest and I tossed and turned in my bed, noticing that the door to my room was ajar. A few heartbeats later and I felt something jump up onto the bed, my heart dropping from my chest.

  Barristan whined and rolled his long pink tongue across my slick hand. Ugh, come on buddy, you shouldn’t have to pee so I don’t know why you’re doing this.

  That was when it hit me. The door to my room was open.

  Why was that?

  “Barristan,” I groaned into my pillow, “stop it,” I couldn’t shake this peculiar feeling now. I hadn’t left the door open, had I? I’ve never seen my dog open that door before, or anything outside of his once puppy cage. Moving across the bed with my elbows, I twisted my body and sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

  Nervous warmth draped across my body and Barristan continued to nose at my hand with his cold and wet nose.

  My vision became clear, the silver light of the moon spilling into the bedroom.

  Something was not right.

  I pushed myself out of the bed, dressed only in my black, tight fitting pajamas. Stepping over to the door, I considered for a moment just closing it.

  Barristan went over to my side. I stood there at the door, just listening.

  No. I definitely didn’t do this. The warmth of anxiety spread deeper inside of me, fiery needles travelling through my veins.

  Some barely audible thud came from outside my room, and it felt like a hot hand reached itself inside of my stomach. I sucked in a tight breath of air in a gasp, my body shuddering briefly.

  Fuck. What the fuck? What was that? My mind began to helplessly race and I grabbed at the end of the door, opening it all of the way and peering into the living room. There was a small light that I could spy coming from the kitchen.