Hunt Me Down

by A. L. Jackson

  If I had enough liquid cash, I would pay it off myself. But between the second mortgage and back taxes, the total was much more than I’d been able to get together. So, I’d settled on the one thing I could do—fight the battle through legal channels.

  “Your family has been in this building for eighty years. You grew up here,” I told her.

  Meaningfully, she looked across at me. “And so did you.”

  I gulped around the emotion that threatened to seize my heart. “Yes.” I took a pleading step forward. “You saved me, Addelaine. You took me in when I had nowhere else to go. And I won’t stand for someone taking your home away from you, too.”

  I fumbled over the counter and took hold of her hand again. “I promise you, I will do whatever it takes to ensure that doesn’t happen.”

  She squeezed back, her eyes raking my clothing, my dress pants and heels. But most of her attention was on the coat I wore. The thick, red material sewn to become something solid.

  A patchwork of healing.

  I could still feel the pain in my fingertips as I’d struggled to work a needle into the coarse, heavy material when I was fifteen. I could still hear Addelaine’s voice in my ear as she’d coaxed me through it. Telling me all goals were achieved through some amount of pain.

  When she’d whispered about growth and strength and had slowly but steadily helped to mold me into the woman I’d become.

  She patted the back of my hand. “You’re a good girl, Lillith. You will always be the granddaughter I never had. Whatever happens, know you have made me proud.”

  And that was exactly why I would do absolutely anything to make sure I didn’t let her down.

  3

  Broderick

  “What do you think?” James asked. He was my partner and my closest friend, and truly the only person in the world who I trusted wholly and without question.

  “It looks solid to me.”

  “You’re still confident?”

  “Of course I’m still confident,” I returned without hesitation. I was sure he already knew the answer. I was always confident.

  “Your father is going to be pissed.”

  I scoffed. “When isn’t he pissed?”

  “Touché.” James laughed quietly, and I could almost see him nodding. “All right then. Keep me posted after the meeting tomorrow. Good luck and let me know if you need anything.”

  “I will.” After ending the call, I stuffed my cell in my jean’s pocket and slowly ambled down the bustling street of downtown. Fairy lights were strung between the buildings, crisscrossing the busy road in the downtown area that ran the edge of the lake.

  It was an area that had been reinvigorated over the last ten years. Life pumped back into its veins after the mill and cannery had shut down in the eighties.

  A new kind of energy thrummed the street.

  Vigorous and buzzing.

  This was exactly what I hoped to achieve with the revitalization project just three miles away in the old town square that had once been the focal point of this city. The one mile radius was downtrodden but bursting with possibility.

  And I was a guy who was all about possibility.

  Pair it with opportunity, and my visions were unstoppable.

  Earlier today, I’d driven through the area, checking out the exteriors of the building we still needed to acquire.

  Excitement had burned like a fucking flame as I’d taken in the untapped potential.

  Then I’d checked into my suite up the block, shed my suit, and redressed before I’d headed out into the approaching night. I wanted to take in the vibe of the locals out casting aside their day-to-day cares or maybe grumbling about them.

  Sit back and watch. Get a read on exactly what we were working with.

  I checked my phone again, a little disappointed that I hadn’t gotten a reply from Ms. Redd after I’d invited her to meet me for drinks and whatever other activities that may arise.

  Not that I’d expected her to accept.

  I’d just been hoping she’d tell me to go to hell.

  Maybe spar with me some more.

  Amp me up to go toe to toe with her tomorrow afternoon.

  My stomach tightened in anticipation. Fuck. I couldn’t wait to be in a room with her. I’d forced myself not to look her up and, instead, let my imagination run wild, envisioning everything from a ditzy Elle Woods to an older hard-assed Diane Lockhart.

  I just couldn’t help myself. Sue me.

  Just as I was approaching the intersection, my attention caught on a busy bar sitting on the corner. It was two stories high with an upstairs terrace. People leaned on the railing as they chatted and laughed, taking swigs of their beers and sipping their cocktails.

  It was exactly what I was looking for.

  Roughing an easy hand through my hair, I pulled open the door and stepped inside, gaze quick to scan the area.

  Edison lights, which were strung from the high ceilings, hung down to add a glow to the dusky space. The floors were reclaimed wood, and the walls were old brick. It all added a comforting charm to the modern furniture and decorations that gave the vibe this was the place everyone wanted to be.

  That was the ambiance I wanted to achieve for the whole town. A slice of exactly what I wanted to accomplish here—a merging of old and new.

  It was a shame so many people were afraid of change.

  Small groups sat around high-topped round tables, and more crowded the marble-topped bar. Muted laughter tumbled down from the staircase that led to the second floor and mingled with the mild chatter that echoed on the walls of the bottom floor.

  I headed directly for the bar at the back and slid onto a free stool. I raised a hand to grab the bartender’s attention.

  He lifted his bearded chin at me. “What can I get you, man?”

  I scanned the top shelf.

  “Knob Creek. Neat.”

  “You sound like a man who needs to unwind. Bad day?”

  I rubbed at my chin. “Not bad at all, actually.”

  He reached a tattooed arm to the top shelf. The guy had a tough, intimidating look about him, even though he was wearing a button-up with the sleeves rolled to his forearms, dress pants, and suspenders.

  “Ah,” he said with a grin. “Now you sound like a man who’s ready to celebrate.”

  He poured a tumbler a third full and slid it across the bar top toward me.

  Clasping the glass, I tipped it toward him. “Soon, my friend, soon. Right now, I’m just prepping for the hunt.”

  With a lift of his brow, he said, “A sportsman.”

  There was no missing the sarcasm behind it.

  A smirk pulled at the edge of my mouth. “I guess you could say I’m a sportsman of sorts.”

  Amusement had him shaking his head, and he tapped the bar top with the knuckles of one hand. “Just let me know if you need anything else.”

  “Will do.”

  He turned his attention to three women who’d sidled up to the bar, and I heaved a satisfied breath as I lifted the glass to my lips and took a sip. I was rolling it over my tongue, savoring the flavor, when a sound touched my ears.

  It was laughter.

  It was the kind of loud, messy laughter that typically would have annoyed the hell out of me. I had little patience for foolishness or nonsense.

  Yet, there was something intriguing about it that snagged my attention, pulling at some place inside I didn’t wholly recognize. There was absolutely nothing I could do but swivel on my stool, needing to see exactly from where and from whom it was coming.

  Propping my elbows on the bar with the glass still clutched in my hand, I let my gaze hunt the room.

  Landing on its mark.

  It took a whole lot to stop me in my tracks.

  Even more to impress me.

  It wasn’t that I was an asshole.

  Okay, fine. Maybe it was exactly the fact that I was an asshole.

  But I lived in New York City and had a place in Los Angeles. I travel
ed the world and wooed and entertained wherever I went. Half the time, women threw themselves at me in some kind of vain attempt to sweeten a deal.

  Beautiful people were just a way of life.

  So, how the fuck was it possible that the most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen was sitting across the room?

  Her face was some kind of mesmerizing masterpiece. High, defined cheeks that tapered down to a narrow jaw and chin, sharp and distinct.

  Unforgettable.

  But her lips. Fuck, those lips.

  They were red and full and delicious, so goddamned appealing that I had the urge to walk across the room and demand a taste.

  Her full attention was trained on the single woman sitting across from her, who was clearly goading her into debauchery.

  The sex kitten of a woman pressed both her hands to the high-top table, as if she were searching for strength. Lush locks cascaded around her shoulders like a black river shimmering in the moonlight as she shook her head at whatever her friend had said.

  My ear tuned in, keen and far too curious.

  I didn’t have time for distractions.

  But here I was.

  Distracted.

  “I have work to do tomorrow,” she said in a voice that struck me like a straight shot of lust. Low and deep and seductive. “You know I can’t afford to mess this up. There’s too much riding on it.”

  The other woman, who had short, messy brown hair, nudged a shot glass her direction. “Do it. I told you tonight was about unwinding. I’m not letting you leave here until you’ve forgotten all about the bullshit you’re dealing with. Think of it this way…it will help you relax so you can get some good sleep tonight so you’re ready and raring to go tomorrow.”

  A needy groan rumbled in my chest. I could think of a few better ways to leave her relaxed.

  Satiated and satisfied.

  All of them involved my tongue and my fingers and most definitely my cock.

  The woman who was somehow making me lose a little bit of my head hesitated, working her lip with her teeth as she contemplated just how far she was going to allow herself to cut loose.

  Then, as if she felt me staring at her, her gaze suddenly slanted my way.

  I sucked in a stunned breath.

  Vivid green eyes blinked back at me.

  Emerald and ice.

  Piercing.

  Stunned.

  As if she were just as affected by me.

  Good God.

  This woman.

  I let my mouth tip up at the corner, relishing in the way those eyes went wide in surprise before they slid down my body. Just as quickly, she ducked her head and turned back to her friend, nodded, and tossed back the shot with a trembling hand.

  Her pretty face pinched, that mouth puckering as she shook all over as she swallowed it.

  I let loose a low chuckle, bringing my drink in for a sip as I pushed to my feet and headed in her direction.

  I was a man who went after what I wanted.

  And what I wanted right then was her. Even though she seemed resistant to look my way, I knew she felt it.

  Knew she felt me.

  That instinctual sixth sense that raised the hairs at the back of your neck and made your heart leap into action, thundering hard and low, your stomach quivering in awareness.

  Run or freeze.

  This girl?

  She froze.

  I came to a stop at the side of their table. “Is this seat taken?” I tossed out the most ridiculous cliché I could find as I gestured to the empty stool with my index finger of the hand still curled around my glass.

  Another thing?

  People loved clichés.

  They really did.

  It didn’t matter how much they rolled their eyes and complained about it. They still flocked toward them. You know, that whole people don’t like change mentality. It applied to all things.

  The brown-haired pixie beamed up at me before she widened her eyes at the woman currently knotting my guts with a need unlike anything I’d felt in a long, long time.

  “Why no,” the pixie said as she waved a hand at the stool. “It just so happens it is not. I guess I was saving it for you. I’m Nikki.”

  I pulled out the stool and slipped onto the padded seat. “Ah, it seems a thank you is in order.”

  She angled her head. “This is the South. We’re all about the hospitality.” Her eyes made a pass over me. “You don’t look like you’re from around here.”

  I hefted a shoulder. “Just passing through.”

  I felt the movement to the right of me. The disturbance in the air as the woman who’d hooked me shifted in her seat. Her scent wrapped around me like ribbons, this rosy sweetness that made me itch to turn my head and bury my nose in her neck.

  Inhale.

  My gaze moved that way, a smirk already on my face when she tipped her chin so she was meeting my eye.

  A tremble ripped down my spine.

  Fuck.

  One of the things that made me most successful? I could almost immediately get a read on people.

  I instantly knew who was shady, keeping secrets and harboring ulterior motives, and who could be trusted, their cards laid on the table because they had everything to lose or everything to win.

  Sitting a foot from me was a strong woman. Convicted. Fucking gorgeous, but I already knew that.

  But the alcohol coursing her system had chipped away a few of the bricks that lined her defenses. Exposing a bit of something vulnerable in the depths of those emerald eyes that sparked as I met her gaze.

  “Hi,” I murmured, so low I was sure it was a growl.

  I watched the thick bob of her throat.

  Fear and attraction.

  “Hi,” she whispered.

  “This is my Lily Pad, who was in dire need of a little fun,” Nikki suddenly said as she leaned farther across the table.

  I forced myself to look at her.

  The girl admittedly was gorgeous, too, but in an entirely different way, not even close to being able to hold my attention the same way as this raven-haired beauty.

  But with the way she was clearly trying to have a silent conversation with her friend, I knew she had as little interest in me as I did with her.

  She was definitely playing fairy matchmaker for her friend.

  With a flourish, she touched her chest. “And I am the Nikki Walters. We welcome you to Gingham Lakes. The bestest, smallest, coolest city in all the South.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Nikki.”

  I shot her a knowing wink before I slowly edged back to look at her friend.

  The movement was weighted, igniting a crackle and a spark in the atmosphere.

  Her lips parted.

  “I’m Brody.”

  She seemed to hesitate before she finally let a smile ridge her perfect, delectable mouth.

  God.

  I wanted to eat her up.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Brody. I’m Lily…only that crazy thing over there”—she lifted her hand, palm out as she pushed it in her friend’s direction—“gets away with calling me Lily Pad. And it seems she has me at a disadvantage tonight.”

  “Disadvantage?” I asked, playing it coy.

  She rolled those fucking stunning eyes, and a tiny giggle slipped from her lips. “I’m not normally this loose.”

  The second she realized what she said, she slammed a hand over her mouth. “Oh my God,” she cried against it. “I did not just say that.” Her eyes squeezed tight as she shook her head.

  Totally mortified.

  And totally adorable.

  Maybe that was the issue. The way she was dressed, she exuded power and strength, which I’d always thought of as the single quality required to get me hard.

  But there was something soft about her, too. Something intriguing and equally charming, this attribute that had me wanting to shift forward so I could get a better look.

  “God…your shoulders…” She caught me off guard by blinking at me
when she suddenly uttered the words.

  “What?” I prodded, my voice deepening as I erased another inch of space between us.

  “They’re…” Her head barely shook as she struggled to find the words. “So big,” she breathed.

  A chuckle rumbled free as my brow arched. “You think it’s my shoulders that are big.”

  She suddenly reached out, fingertips tracing my knuckles, sending a spiral of lust shooting through my veins.

  “Like these hands?” she murmured with the shiver that took her whole.

  I leaned forward, my mouth at her ear. “Among other things.”

  “I think that’s my cue,” Nikki suddenly said. Her stool skidded on the floor as she pushed it back, hopped to her feet, and grabbed her cocktail. “I’m actually over here getting hot and bothered watching the two of you.” She waved her drink toward the same bartender who’d poured mine. “I’m going to flirt with Ollie over there and see if I can finally get that man to crack.”

  Lily giggled. Again. And again, I fucking liked it.

  What the hell was wrong with me?

  “Good luck with that,” Lily said.

  “With that man? God knows I’m going to need it,” Nikki said before she spun and skipped toward the bar.

  We both watched her go, saying nothing as a silence built in the space between us, growing thicker when I returned my hungry gaze back to her.

  “So, Lily…tell me about you.”

  She wrapped both hands around her half-empty cocktail sitting in the midst of three empty shot glasses. She took a slow sip. “What would you like to know?”

  “Everything.” It was out before I could think better of it.

  She shook her head. “Don’t lie to me, Mr…”

  “Brody,” I instantly supplied.

  “Brody,” she settled on, as if maybe it too sounded as odd in her mouth as it did in mine. But there was something about sitting there that made me not want to be that guy who was here in her town to turn things upside down.

  “Okay then, Brody, no lies. What do you really want to know about me?”