"Jesus." His head finally lifted as his gaze caught mine. A slow grin lifted his lips as he looked down between us, my body still tied to the tree, his dick still buried inside me. "You look really fucking good like this." His green eyes danced.
I laughed, feeling the world come back into focus. "If I wasn't tied, I would smack you." I shook my head, loving every minute of our banter.
"Exactly why I tied your ass up," Hunter countered, placing a slow deep kiss on my lips. Our tongues tangled as one hand slid to my throat, caressing the delicate flesh before the other traced up the underside of my arm and worked at the knots around my wrists. My hands were free seconds later, and I was thankful to have my heavy limbs wrapped around his broad shoulders.
"Wow," I sighed, utterly content.
"That's it? ‘Wow’?" He chuckled as he untied the belt and finally set me free. Hunter shook out the blanket before wrapping us both in it.
"It was more than wow. It was fan-fucking-tastic.”
"Okay, smart ass." He smacked at my ass under the blanket. I erupted into a fit of giggles, feeling equal parts exhausted and blissful. I wasn't sure how I could find happiness in circumstances of complete upheaval, but it seemed I had in the form of a tall, handsome, golden god named Hunter.
fifteen
We only stayed for two days at the cabin, but not by choice.
Hunter had attended to both phones with constant focus the entire first day we were there. What took all of his attention were texts from JW and some of his enforcers. They hadn’t threatened anything, but the tone of the messages were clear.
Need you soon.
Work to do.
Not done yet.
Don’t forget who your family is, Son.
That had been the last one, and I’d watched it visibly take the air from Hunter’s lungs. He’d looked up at me, coffee steaming out of both of our mugs the third morning at the cabin, and I knew then we had to go back.
“There’s no escaping him.” Hunter’s eyes shone with anger as he stared out at the glistening lake in the distance.
“I know.” I tried valiantly not to choke on the sob in my throat. “Will it ever be over?” I took his hand in my own, caressing his knuckles with my thumbs and tracing the black ink that decorated his skin.
“I can’t answer that. I thought I could. I thought this was it. But I don’t know what the fuck these texts mean.” He ran a hand through his hair and I knew there was so much more he wasn’t telling me. I could see it in his eyes. He couldn’t hide all his secrets. Just as plainly as he’d said that I would blow the plan, he couldn’t keep his emotions from betraying him. At least not from me.
“So we go back.” I tightened his hand in mine. His eyes swung to me, surprise and empathy radiating in their depths.
“We go back.” He nodded slowly. “You’ll stay with me. I’m not letting you out of my sight.” His hand gripped mine with fierce strength.
“I know.” I nodded. “I’ll pack up.” I had to leave before the tears overflowed and seared paths down my cheeks. I wouldn’t let him see me cry. Not again.
He let my hand drop and I stood, padding down the small hallway and veering into the tight bathroom. I shut the door and locked it quietly as my stomach twisted painfully. I bent over the toilet and felt my insides coming out one empty heave at a time. What had happened to land me here, hiding out on a stranger’s bathroom floor? How was it that the FBI didn't have a search warrant out for me by now? Where was JW in all of this? And above all else, why did this feel like just the beginning of the war?
My insides ached with turmoil before I finally succumbed and flushed the toilet moments later, swiping a handful of tissues at my eyes before catching my reflection in the mirror.
I frowned, my heart feeling shattered into one thousand tiny pieces. I was a girl suddenly caught in a war zone, looking lost and terrified. I wiped at the stubborn tears one more time before sucking in deep breaths to try to compose myself for the fight of my life.
“I’m droppin’ you at my house first, then going to see JW,” Hunter said when we were a few minutes out of the city. We’d left only an hour after the last ominous text had come in.
Don’t make enemies of family.
It’d had my heart fighting to fly from my throat with fear.
“What? I’m not leaving you.” I shot a deadly stare at him. “Besides you said you wouldn’t leave me, and I won’t leave you either.” I crossed my arms, ready to stick to my guns.
“Not a chance in hell. I don’t trust him.” Hunter glanced at me then, his eyes holding me for a brief moment before flicking back to the road. “I won’t have you near him,” he growled and I saw the whites of his canines flash in the bright sunlight. He looked dangerous – deadly. I wouldn’t want to be the man to oppose him.
“Hunter, I don't want you to go alone.”
“I’ve decided,” he deadpanned as his hands gripped at the wheel. “I put you in danger once with him, it’s not happening again. My house has top of the line security, and I can tap into the cameras from my phone whenever I want. And there’s a panic button in every room. If there’s a problem, push one, and the cops can be there in ninety seconds. They’re right around the corner.” He quirked an ironic grin at me. It did not settle my nerves.
“Hunter-”
“Sorry, Princess.” He dropped one hand from the wheel and tightened it on my knee. “I’ll take you everywhere with me, around the fucking world and back, but not there. Not ever again.” His grip tightened in both warning and anger.
I sighed, defeat settling into my bones as Hunter turned down his peaceful tree-lined street. Kids skipped rope and played outside, a peaceful summer Sunday in a picture perfect Midwestern childhood.
More irony. Step-son of the leading criminal gang of Chicago cruising by in his Lexus right now. He pulled the car into the garage and then shut off the ignition. “Ready?” He turned and placed a hand around my neck.
“Let’s do this.”
“There’s my girl.” Hunter placed a swift kiss on my lips and then was bounding out the door. He was around my side and escorting me out, carrying bags over his shoulders, as we entered his home.
“Code is 0618, day we met.” He winked at me as he punched it in.
“You changed it to the day we met?” I laughed as his unexpected sweetness melted my heart a little.
“I change it often. It seemed the happiest date in recent memory, so I went with it.” He grinned, his cheeks lifting as they colored just slightly.
“You’re cute.” I pressed on my toes and nipped at his jawline.
“You say that now.” He wrapped an arm around my waist and gripped my ass in one tight squeeze. I broke into a fit of giggles and fell into his arms, releasing the tension that had been building since the morning when we’d first headed south.
“Let’s get this security tour over with. I’ve got a meeting to get to.” Hunter placed a kiss on my nose, causing reality to crash in on me.
“What do I do while you’re gone? How long until I worry? And who would I even call?” The anxiety ratcheted my voice to extreme decibels.
Hunter smiled wryly before swiping a palm across my cheekbone and into my hair. “You’re cute when you’re worried.” His smile deepened as his eyes roamed my face. “Does it make me a selfish asshole that I like that you’re worried about me?” His rakish eyes twinkled.
“Shut up.” I swatted his chest before melting into his embrace again.
“I took care of myself just fine before you.” He placed a kiss on my forehead.
“That was before,” I murmured against his sweet lips. “What about now?”
“You’re right.” He sighed and pulled me into a bear hug with his arms wrapped around my shoulders, enclosing me in his tight embrace and making me feel protected like only he could. “I’ve got you, Princess.”
sixteen
Hunter left two hours after we arrived back in Chicago. I’d scalded myself in his bathroom s
hower until my skin was bright and burning, hoping to erase the chaos of the last few days.
And then I waited. I cleaned up his house, not that it needed much cleaning, and unpacked his bags, tossing dirty clothes into a pile and hanging the few he hadn’t worn while we were away. I stuffed my nose into the clean cotton and inhaled, the smell of his soap and the smoky scent of his skin calming my nerves. I fell back on the fluffy bed, landing next to my own bag to dig through it.
Hunter had packed well, bringing the few things I’d left at his house, some clothes, a hair brush, a bottle of lotion, shower items, and tampons.
I sighed and flipped the box in my hands and then ran the dates back in my head.
It’d been only weeks since we’d met. It felt like a lifetime. I knew this had been the last box of tampons I’d bought because I’d had to buy them specifically for the trip to Lisbon.
That made it…too long.
My eyes shot up as I tossed the offending box back in the bag.
No fucking way. I pushed the bag off the bed and gave it a kick. My hands went to my stomach. It churned and pulsed with bile. I’d been too wiped to eat this morning, not normally a problem I had, but more common of late. I'd attributed it to nerves and poor sleep, but what if it hadn’t been that at all? We hadn't used condoms, but I'd been on the pill for years. Maybe I wasn't the best at taking them regularly, but with all the hormones pumping through my system, how could one day here or there make a difference?
I shoved the bag under the bed in the hopes of forgetting about the possibility completely. If I didn’t look at it, it wasn’t there. It didn’t happen. It couldn’t. Stress was keeping my period at bay, that was all. It wasn't the first time life wreaked havoc on my system, and if anything was going to throw someone off kilter, it was an estranged husband with connections to a gang, right?
I sighed and tramped down the stairs, feeling better. I smiled as I fixed a cup of tea--Hunter had stocked his kitchen with a dozen varieties, ever thoughtful. I pulled a chai from the pack and brewed it, adding a generous dollop of honey before heading to the living room and my computer. I could keep myself busy with some work before my anxious nerves got the best of me and I was fidgeting, gazing out the front window, desperate to escape. How could he expect me to stay here, locked up?
Casting a sad look at my rapidly cooling tea, I decided it was time for something stronger. I found a bottle of Merlot in the pantry and was two glasses in and hitting Google News before I could think better of it. Pictures and videos splashed across the Tribune's website of the house Brant and I had shared. There were pictures of the arrest from a thousand different angles. I watched videos taken by bystanders of my husband's down-turned head, anger splayed across his dark brows, that had gone viral on Twitter with dozens of retweets and even more painful commentary from citizens who'd witnessed the raid on my typically peaceful street.
Apparently JW’s plan had been a little more than foiled at taking down my husband -- it’d been front-page news. The city was buzzing with talk of organized crime flooding the streets. I sat stupefied, pausing, fast-forwarding, and doing it all over again looking for familiar faces. Had JW even showed up? How had this all been orchestrated? Law enforcement had surely been through my house with a fine-toothed comb by now, but I was confident they hadn't found a single thing. I lived there, Brant didn't. Brant lived out of hotel rooms across the world. It was me on my hands and knees cleaning under beds and organizing file cabinets. If there was anything to be found there, I would have found it.
And then I felt terrible, the idea of my husband sitting in a jail cell wondering what his future held. Maybe I should go see him. But maybe I didn’t want to. Maybe I held anger deep down that he’d thrown me into this. Anger because the newspaper articles had reported embezzlement to the tune of ten million dollars. Where had that money gone? Could they take our house? Suddenly my perspective became much clearer. None of that stuff was mine, all of it bought with stolen money, and apparently my instincts to find a better job and gain financial independence from Brant had been a good one. Thank God Hunter had come along, catching me in my fall in more ways than just one.
My eyes scanned the top news stories before landing on the title of one -- Wife of Embezzler Missing. I clicked on the link, a sense of foreboding filling my chest as my eyes darted down the page. A grainy picture of Brant and I from college accompanied the text filled with speculation on my whereabouts. The media was on the hunt to find me, sensationalizing the story with drama and innuendo, even admitting that while the FBI did not consider me a person of interest, I would be questioned in the future to help aid the investigation.
The article further went on to suggest maybe I'd known of the raid ahead of time, was either involved with the FBI, or rushing to cover up my own tracks and had disappeared with the embezzled money. My heart lodged in my throat when I read the last paragraph, it claimed a source close to John Ellis Walker was hunting for me for his own internal investigation into the criminal organization. I slammed my laptop closed as my stomach twisted and rolled. I darted to the first floor bathroom and shoved my head in the toilet. JW was on a manhunt for me. I had become his target.
I woke nuzzled into the leather of Hunter's couch a short while later.
I padded down the hallway, glancing from room to room, looking for him. I searched through the eerie silence of the first floor, then headed up the sweeping staircase and walked softly to his master, finding the door ajar.
With the lights out and the blinds closed, the room was cast in shadow. “Hunter?” I called quietly, finding the walk-in closet light on. I turned the corner to find him on his knees, shoving clothes and paperwork into multiple duffels.
My eyes cast around the floor, he had my few things torn out too.
“Hunter, what’s going on?” I said louder this time. I finally broke past his concentration and he laid eyes on me for the first time.
They were angry and bloodshot, more intense than I’d ever seen them, not like Hunter at all. This was a creature, a feral animal looking up at me. “Pack your shit, we’re leaving,” he grunted and then shoved more clothes into a duffel without even looking at what they were.
“What are you talking about?” I dropped to my knees and lunged across him, stopping his arms with my own and clutching at his broad shoulders beneath the cotton of his shirt.
“We’re leaving tonight. We can’t wait. I don’t trust JW, not for a fucking second. I never should have,” he growled and then rammed clothes in with more force.
This was a Hunter that scared me.
“I―I can’t just leave again. Brant’s in jail. I'm sure the Feds will want to speak to me, and there’s my mom―I can’t just leave.” I stumbled searching for any excuse.
“Too bad, Princess. Too fucking bad, but we don’t have a choice anymore. JW thinks someone flipped,” Hunter said. “He's determined to get the rat.” His eyes finally glanced up to mine. “He thinks it's you.”
My mind blitzed and a thousand and one thoughts rushed my brain. “But I didn't! How could he think that?” Panic laced my voice and shook my body.
“In his mind, there are only two people that had the means.” Hunter looked up sadly. “Us.”
“What do we do? How can we prove it wasn't-"
“We can't do anything. I've told him it wasn't. I know it wasn't, but I'm not sure if he believes me.” He paused and his eyes softened for a moment then. “He wants us to do a job for him.”
“What?!" I shrieked as my heart hammered.
"He thinks it will prove loyalty. I told him absolutely not. No way would I put you in harm's way, no matter how easy the job.”
"What did he want us to do?” I ventured to ask.
Hunter's gaze burned up the space between us. “Smuggling cash overseas,” he finally admitted. “He knows I have the ability to cross customs, no red flags on my record. We travel so much, he fucking wanted me to put my own shit on the line for him!” Hunter roared, sounding ever
y part the caged animal JW treated him like.
“What did he say when you told him no?" I whispered, afraid of the answer.
"Nothing." Hunter looked back at the floor.
"What do you mean nothing?" My heart hammering in my ears nearly drowned out all else except for the slow breaths of the man across from me.
"Just a look.” Hunter shook his head. “The look that says it's been decided."
"Been decided? What's been decided?"
"I have to do it."
"Hunter you don't have to do anything. You have a career. He can't ask you to give up everything for him. If you get caught--” My eyes widened at the thought of Hunter's hands in cuffs and being hauled away.
"He can and he is. Unless we leave."
“Hunter, no..." I trailed off, watching his eyes whirl with desperate thoughts.
“I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Whatever it takes--that's why we're leaving. We'll go off the grid. We'll take pictures and live in paradise." He stood and placed a punishing kiss on my lips before heading into his master bedroom to dig through the nightstand. Pain punched me in the gut when I saw the glint of gunmetal and watched as Hunter shoved the gun in his waistband.
My mind whirred as I stood rooted in terror. I sucked in painfully tight breaths as my stomach tossed and turned and I felt hot tears pricking my eyelids. I spun and darted into the bathroom, bending over the porcelain again.
Blindsight: Part Two Page 8
