Hunter (In the Company of Snipers Book 14)

by Irish Winters

  “No,” Hunter said, even as he sat with Ky. “We’ve got to stop… resting. One of these times… we won’t be strong enough… to get back up.” But sitting sounded like a good idea. He wished he’d thought of it.

  Ky chuffed another nothing non-answer. He’d been doing that more often. Walking slower. Stumbling. Needing help getting to his feet.

  At first, finding those tree roots and spider webs was a morale booster, but that was days ago. Neither of them dared chance eating the roots and risking a slow painful death. This latest mass was just more of the same and just as worthless. Millions of trees grew topside and they all had roots, so why had he thought escape from this underworld realm of stone and starvation was imminent? It wasn’t. They’d gotten excited for nothing.

  “I’m so damned tired,” Ky wheezed, his normally optimistic voice dull and flat.

  “Yeah. Me too.” Hunter leaned his back to the wall. Now was the time to grab a few ZZZs.

  The total lack of food had become irrelevant in the slow race to the surface. His stomach didn’t hurt anymore. Hunter recognized it for what it was—the body’s way of coping. The urge to curl up and sleep compelled him to face the truth. There was no way out. He’d never see Meredith again. Never kiss her lush warm lips. Never breathe in the flowery scent of her pretty blonde hair. Only the dried up skeletons of him and Ky would be found—if anything.

  Hunter growled at the bitch called Karma. Those spider thingees were one of her dirty tricks. False hope was what they were. Damn her to hell…

  Rambling—another sign that he was losing his mind. He flicked the dusty dirt off his fingers. There was one last thing he had to do before he died. With great determination, Hunter gritted his teeth against the burning ache in his joints. Everything creaked, even his jaw. Like an old, old man, he rolled to his hands and knees and searched the flat ledge for something to scratch out a few words with.

  His body would be found someday. When it was, he wanted Meredith to know.

  Hunched over, his butt in the air and his nose to the ground, he found a suitable rock, suitable because it was the first one his fingers touched. It would do. Slowly, he scratched two stick figures into the stone floor, a lady and a guy. A crooked heart between them.

  That made him chuckle. A crooked heart. Ha. Wasn’t that the truth?

  In the center of the heart, he etched, “Mike Foxtrot.”

  Over the stick figures’ heads, he carved a five-pointed star with a long tail. Of all things, a single tear dripped out of his grit-filled eye to land square in the middle of the lady stick figure’s round head. That was all the artwork he had strength for. No more words. No signature. Just that. Meredith would know what it meant.

  He stretched his dying body beside the message. His forehead hit the dirt as he whispered to the only woman who mattered in his miserable life, “I love you, Merry.”

  “Whatcha... doing?” Ky asked weakly from where he’d collapsed, his arms spread crucifixion-style.

  Hunter licked his dry lips and whispered, “Wishing… on a star. That’s all. Just…”

  Wishing with all my heart.

  Eddy showed up at her place in gray dress slacks and a pale-blue button-up shirt instead of jeans and a polo or T-shirt. He obviously hadn’t planned on the local hamburger joint for lunch. It shouldn’t have surprised her. They never were on the same wavelength.

  For now Eddy sat between her and Courtney. He’d satisfied her three-year-old’s appetite with a cheeseburger (hold the catsup and pickle), fries, apple juice, and a toy made in China. Thankfully, Courtney was ecstatically unaware of the adult power play in process. He sat sharing his fires and fry sauce with Bear and chattering to his best bud as if the perpetually smiling stuffed animal was listening.

  Meredith had ordered a sweet tea, not anything pricey enough to be beholden to the man who thought he could buy her affection the way he’d bought her son’s. Each time Eddy stretched his arm along the back of the booth, she moved away from him until she was up against the edge of the seat. She kept her cell phone at her fingertips. Lee might call with good news on Hunter and Ky. God knew, she needed some.

  “I was thinking more of fine dining,” Eddy admitted, his eyes out the window on his expensive wheels.

  “Maybe another time.” Like never. Meredith tapped her phone, wishing it would ring. She had both Seth and Lee’s numbers, but hadn’t called either man yet. She trusted them. They’d call as soon as something broke.

  Eddy’s eyes brightened. “Really? You’d go out with me again?”

  She stalled, biting her tongue for thinking she had to be nice in front of her son.

  “To tell you the truth, the place I had in mind is on the Chesapeake, near Annapolis. You’d love it. We could spend the day on the beach. I’d love to take Courtney sailing, and—”

  “I’m not interested, remember?”

  “But sweetheart.” Any closer and he’d be on her lap. “It’d give me a chance to get to know him better.”

  But sweetheart nothing. This was just a means to get to her through Courtney. “If you want to get to know him, why aren’t you sitting by him?”

  Eddy’s nose wrinkled. “Because...”

  “Mama, I hafta go potty,” Courtney announced proudly, his cute little chin lifted because he’d remembered in time. Well, almost.

  “I think he already did,” Eddy whispered as he stood to let her out of her seat. “I didn’t want to embarrass him. Sorry. I’m not good with little boys yet, but I’d love to learn.”

  She rolled her eyes, suddenly back in time and not sure what to believe. Eddy said the right words, but she wished not one ounce of Welch blood flowed through that darling little boy’s veins. Her way forward would be clear then.

  Eddy intercepted her just as she reached for Courtney. “It’s time I figured this fatherhood thing out. Would it be okay if I took you to the bathroom, Son?”

  That word. Son. Eddy had said it smoothly, as if he’d never missed a single birthday or Christmas morning, first step. But the biggest smile crackled across Courtney’s face. Why wouldn’t it? Eddy had bought everything the little guy had hinted he’d wanted at the counter. And what could she say? Technically and biologically, Courtney was Eddy’s son. Darn it.

  “Yeah!” Courtney exclaimed, his eyes bright as if he suddenly had a new best friend. “I goin’ potty. I a big boy now.”

  “I see that,” Meredith answered, her motherly instincts on high alert. What could she say? Courtney seemed genuinely happy to be spending time with his father, the deadbeat. Only Eddy wasn’t legally a deadbeat, either. He’d never missed a child support payment. All he’d missed was—everything else.

  “But you’re injured,” she offered lamely.

  Eddy scowled, shaking his gauze wrapped hand like it was nothing. “I’m tough. What do you say? Do we have your permission?”

  She handed him the emergency change of little boy clothes she always carried in her trendy, mother-sized backpack. “I’ll be waiting.”

  He smiled, and off the father-and-son team went, hand in hand, like real fathers did with their sons every single day. So why did that make the hair on the back of her neck stand up? Instead of waiting, which drove her crazy the minute Courtney was out of her sight, Meredith went for a refill. The counter was close to the restrooms. She could hear if anything—

  No. Nothing will happen. Eddy’s not evil. A jerk, yes, but he’d never hurt Courtney.

  Still, Meredith breathed a sigh of relief when they exited the restroom, her little guy jabbering away and still hanging onto his father’s hand. When Eddy handed her the plastic bag that held the wet clothing, one brow lifted. “You didn’t have to wait outside the door.”

  “I hope you washed your hands, Courtney,” she said with a gulp. She’d been caught loitering like a suspicious woman, but so what? One happy meal does not a father make.

  “And I used soap,” he said proudly, his two very clean little hands waving at her for proof. “Daddy help
ed me reach.”

  She choked on her sweet tea. Daddy? “Wh-who helped you?”

  “Him.” He pointed to Eddy. ”My Daddy.”

  Eddy scooped Courtney off the floor, and wrangled him onto his shoulder. “I can’t very well have him calling me Mr. Welch, can I?”

  A few other choice names came to mind, but no. Courtney did have to call his father something. Meredith just wished it wasn’t that. Things were moving too fast. She bit her tongue while her son, the little guy she’d nursed through midnight earaches, scary bouts of colic, and other childhood illnesses—all by herself—squealed with delight on his ride back to the table.

  This time, Eddy made sure to sit beside Courtney. What a surprise. Then he made it a game to see who could eat his cheeseburger the fastest. Meredith tried not to stare, but she couldn’t help noticing that, like him or not, he seemed to be making an honest effort. Courtney and he looked good together. Almost happy. Almost believable.

  Then why did her gut pinch with apprehension? Oh wait. Could it be the multiple times he’d bullied her? The time he’d slapped her? Had he really changed or was this just another scam? She tucked her palm under her chin and stared out the window, wishing it was Hunter sitting across the table.

  “So tomorrow then?” Eddy’s question snapped her out of her reverie.

  “Excuse me. What?” she asked, not understanding.

  “Tomorrow,” he said, very deliberately. “I’ll pick you kids up at nine. We can be at my cabin by noon. Courtney can’t wait to go boating.”

  “I going fishing, Mama,” Courtney blurted out, his blue eyes wide and sparkling as he bounced in his chair.

  Figures. First the trike. Now there’s a cabin and a boat.

  “When did we decide we were going to your cabin?” she asked haughtily.

  “You said you’d consider dinner another day. I just assumed...”

  So that was it. He’d set this in motion when he’d taken Courtney to the restroom. He’d baited his child with boating and fishing and all those guy things she hadn’t offered her son. And, oh yeah, he’d also made sure Courtney knew he was his father. Darn him. Eddy would sabotage her at every turn by buying his son’s love, like that was hard to do with a three-year-old.

  She steeled her resolve. “Sorry. I have work.”

  His chin dropped. “You’re right. I’m coming on too strong, aren’t I? Another time then.”

  “But Mama,” Courtney whined. “He my Daddy and I wanna pway with him.”

  “No, Son. Your mother’s right. I’ve been gone awhile…” Like most of your son’s life. “…and I understand. You finish those fries and I’ll take you home.”

  “But I wanna go with you, Daddy.”

  And there it was, her chubby cheeked angel had just resorted to the oldest trick in the Shirley Temple playbook—pitting one parent against the other. It hadn’t yet been twenty-four-hours, and the line was drawn in the sand. The three-year-old was hooked.

  She cocked a cold shoulder of disdain at Eddy, while she lifted to her seat and told her son in no uncertain terms, “We’re leaving. Grab Bear. Now.”

  “But, Mama—”

  “Listen to your mother, Courtney.” Eddy tucked Bear under his arm, then grabbed hold of Courtney and flipped him over his head and upside down so he landed, straddling Eddy’s shoulders. Giggling. “Do it again!”

  Just like that the argument was over. God, she wanted to hate him, but legally, Eddy was Courtney’s father. Did she owe Eddy a second chance with her? No way.

  Did he have a right to see his son? Certainly. Fathers had rights. Especially wealthy fathers. It wasn’t an unreasonable request, and any court in the country would agree with him. She’d never agree to joint custody, but what harm was there in letting him get to know his only child? Supervised visits only. At first. If he proved to be a fit father—maybe more.

  Meredith held her breath at this sudden change in her life. “What are you doing? You drop in out of the blue and disrupt my life and....” She waved a hand at the crumbled lunch debris on the table. “What do you really want? If all this is a scheme to get custody—”

  He slipped a hand inside his suit jacket. “Here. Maybe this will put your mind to rest.”

  She glared at him even as she unfolded the single sheet of what felt like fine linen paper. The seal of the State of Virginia in the upper left hand corner looked official, but it was the title of the document that took her breath. Voluntary Relinquishment of Parental Rights.

  He’d done it. He’d signed on the line. The document was witnessed and notarized, and she honestly didn’t know what to think. “Why would you do this?”

  “Because I may not be good enough for you, Meredith, but I do know how your mind works. You don’t trust me, and I don’t blame you. I’ve given you no reason to. You think I’ve come back into your life just to take Courtney. Let that piece of paper be my solemn word that you and you alone will retain all rights and custody of this fine little man you’re raising. I’m not here to steal him. I just want to get to know him better. I want to be, in some small way, a part of his life. Call it guilt or penance, but I need to make sure he’s provided for the rest of his life. Is that too much to ask?”

  “Umm, wow. I don’t know what to say.” She swallowed hard, her mind racing as she handed the document back.

  He waved it away. “It’s yours. Keep it.”

  Meredith tucked the paper alongside Courtney’s animal crackers in her backpack before she was composed enough to face Eddy again. By then Bear was stuffed in front of Courtney. Her son’s smiling eyes beamed. Could she refuse him this chance to know his real father? She bit her lip already knowing her answer.

  “One day, Eddy.” She hated the tremor in her voice. Why did it suddenly feel like she was toeing the edge of a very deep precipice? In the dark? On a windy day? “I’ll give you this one day with your son, but I’m not kidding. We need to be home by eight tomorrow evening. I have work the next morning,” she lied.

  “No problem.” Eddy smiled that cocky half-smile she’d thought handsome a long, long time ago. “Eight p.m. it is. Bring a warm jacket for you and Courtney. Autumn on the Chesapeake can be breezy.”

  “No sailing.” Meredith pushed her motherly authority. “You know I don’t like being out on the water.”

  “Since when?” Eddy gave her a tentative smile.

  Since I’ll have to be out there with you.

  “Come on. Loosen up. Live a little.”

  “No sailing, Eddy,” she said more firmly. “I mean it.” This was no happy family. There was no sense making this one-day event what it wasn’t.

  “Okay, okay.” He shrugged. “Bring a coat anyway. We can always go for a long walk. Maybe we’ll find some shells. Have you ever been beachcombing, Courtney?”

  Meredith took a long sip of her tea while her son jabbered. Eddy seemed to have changed. Didn’t he?

  The damned spidery light got brighter. And annoying. Hunter growled. He must’ve dozed off. He watched distractedly as the light split into separate beams and descended from the ceiling. Nothing made sense anymore. Loud voices echoed continually inside his head. The world spun, or maybe he was doing the spinning. It all felt the same when a man was dreaming. Or hallucinating. Or dying…

  The spider reached down and snagged Ky first by its very long pincers. Hunter would’ve fought it off, but he couldn’t make his pinkie move, and besides. That spider was big. And hairy. The arachnid came for him next, only other spiders had joined in by then. They argued as they wrapped him tight, and the oddest thought showed up. Does it hurt when a spider sucks you dry?

  Guess I’ll find out.

  Up he went into the spider’s lair. Nest. Web. Whatever.

  He just didn’t expect it to be so bright when he got there. Some guy had his hands all over his face, peeling his eyelids open and pouring a ton of stark-white burning sunlight into his head.

  “Sh-shit. B-back off,” he croaked, his mouth too damned dry to get the
words out. Turning his head to the side, the cold lips of a canteen collided with his mouth. Spiders and water? Sunlight? The world had turned upside-down and everything hurt. His eyes. His body. Even his boots. Holy hell.

  “Hunt,” someone kept calling to him out of a long dark tunnel. “Hunt. Come on man, wake up. Open your mouth. Take a good long drink.”

  He batted the nonsensical eight-legged beast away, not going to be any monster’s desiccated human-dinner roll. The brightness dimmed and the fog in his head lifted.

  “There you are.” That same guy cuffed his cheeks until Hunter wanted to scream. “Hunt. Take a drink. Come on, man. Don’t go dying on me now.”

  Then leave me the hell alone.

  “Easy now.” The man poured water through his cracked lips until it finally made sense. He’d been rescued. Him and Ky. Again with the water, and Hunter’s brain re-engaged. He latched onto that bottle and swallowed. Water! More! Then he chugged. Then the guy kneeling over him turned into Lee Hart, and Hunter choked the water all back up.

  He didn’t mean to but damn. Lee had rescued them just like Ky’d said he would. How had he known? Who cared? The big tough guy leaning over him looked beautiful. Hunter grabbed Lee’s face the same second tears stung his dried-up eyeballs. “Lee!”

  “Yeah, Hunt. It’s me. Jesus Christ, we’ve all been looking for you lucky bastards.”

  “But it’s really you.” Hunter didn’t think twice. He pulled Lee into his face and planted a kiss on his surprised friend’s mouth.

  Lee jerked to the side, spitting and wiping his lips. “You do that again, Hunt, and I’m dropping your sorry ass back down that hole we just dragged it out of.”

  Hunter squeezed his eyes shut. So. Damned. Happy. What a small word. He was beyond happy. He was thrilled. Ecstatic. Oh hell, he was—alive.

  “Ky?” he asked, hoping with all his heart Lee gave him the right answer.

  Lee cupped Hunter’s head to the left. “See for yourself.”

  “Hey, man,” Ky groaned hoarsely, staring at Hunt. He was flat on his back with good old Zack Lennox kneeling over him with another canteen. “You ain’t gonna... kiss me next... are you?”