Hunter

by Eden Summers

  If at all possible, he grows an inch taller with his dominant stance. He’s not going to let me take the fall.

  “Move.” I shove at him with my free hand, only to have Decker’s arm grab my wrist, plastering it to my side as he holds me in place.

  “The police will be here any minute, Hunt. What’s your next move?” Torian blurts. “How are you going to play this?”

  “I take responsibility. I owe you. I’ll do whatever you want. Be whatever you want. I’ll stop being a contractor and instead become one of your bitch boys, like you’ve always wanted. We can work out the details at a later date.”

  “No.” I plead. “This was my fault.”

  “Let him sort this out,” Decker whispers in my ear. “He’s got it under control.”

  “No.” I elbow him in the ribs, breaking free of his grasp. I stalk around Hunter, only to be engulfed in his arms and drawn into his body

  “Don’t move,” Torian demands, his barrel trained on my chest.

  “She’s mine,” Hunter snarls, taking the gun from my hand. “My responsibility. My debt. You shoot her, and you won’t live to take another breath.”

  Torian’s eyes narrow. “Do you really want to threaten me?”

  “No. No. No.” I scramble to turn to face Hunter. “Don’t do this.”

  A shot blasts the air, and his hands fall. His eyes widen. His lips part. I frantically search his face for answers, my mind screaming, until I hear a thud behind him.

  Carlos is on the floor, blood seeping from a perfectly circular hole in his forehead.

  “You should’ve done that weeks ago,” Torian mutters, lobbing his gun at Hunter. “Put it in Vaughn’s hand. As far as you’re all concerned, they killed each other.”

  I stand rooted in place as Hunter wipes the gun of fingerprints, then places it in Jacob’s hand. He does the same with his weapon, placing it with Carlos.

  “What’s going on?” I whisper.

  “It’s over.” Decker puts his hands on my shoulders. “He’s got it worked out.”

  “He’s got what worked out?”

  The wail of sirens increases. All I can hear is noise, the panic and chaos increasing.

  “She needs to get out of here.” Torian strides around the desk. “She’ll come with me. You two can stay.”

  Hunter nods.

  He nods.

  “What are you doing?” I walk to him, searching those harsh eyes.

  “You need to go. I’ll meet up with you later.”

  “No. I’m not leaving you.” And I’m sure as hell not going to run into the sunset with the man who seconds ago wanted to kill me.

  “Sarah.” He leans in, bare inches from my face. “You’re covered in gun residue, and so is Torian. You can’t stay.”

  “No.” I shake my head and cling to him. “I’m not going without you.”

  I can’t. I won’t. I thought I could walk away, but it’s an impossibility. I want him. I need him.

  He winces and glances over my shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  I snap my gaze to Decker, but I’m too late. I have a split second to brace for the butt of the gun before pain explodes in my head. Then the world fades to black.

  24

  Her

  I wake up on a plush, unfamiliar sofa, dressed in nothing but my underwear. My head pounds as if I’ve been at a month-long rave and there’s a sore spot that throbs even harder near my temple.

  It takes seconds to blink away the groggy confusion. To remember what happened.

  I don’t move. I don’t breathe.

  I take in my surroundings—the sunlight streaming into the room, the expensive furniture, the scent of baked cookies or cake that makes my stomach growl.

  Great. I killed a guy only to be abducted and stripped by Betty fucking Crocker.

  “I think she’s awake,” a woman murmurs.

  “About time.”

  The response chills my blood. It’s Torian. I don’t need to glance over the sofa to confirm, but I do. I sit up and find him in a million-dollar kitchen beside an equally stunning woman with sleek brown hair and mesmerizing blue eyes, just like him.

  “Sleep well?” he taunts.

  My head voices a protest, throbbing and pounding.

  Decker knocked me out. At Hunter’s instruction.

  “Where is he?”

  Torian raises a brow. “The surly one or his faithful sidekick?”

  “Both,” I snap, pushing to my feet, then wincing at the renewed burst of pain in my skull. “Where are they?”

  “At the police station.”

  “Why?” Blood rushes from my head, the panic making me dizzy. “What’s going on?”

  “It’s standard procedure for a witness of a double murder. At least it will be if they get released soon. Otherwise…” He shrugs. “Your friends might have to spend a generous amount of time in prison.”

  I reach for the sofa as my legs threaten to buckle.

  “Don’t be cruel,” the woman chastises. “She’s been through enough.” She saunters toward me, her long, lean legs eating up the space between us. “It’s only been a few hours. I’m sure they’ll be back any minute now.”

  She continues by me to the pile of folded clothing on the coffee table. “Here.” She picks up a pair of yoga pants and a baby blue sweater. “Put these on. They should fit. And your shoes are underneath the sofa.”

  I take the offering and pull them on with shaky arms. “Where are my clothes?”

  “Incinerated,” Torian mutters. “Just one of the many things I’ve done to cover your ass.”

  I wince, not appreciating the help, but thankful for it at the same time. I’m not naive to think his assistance is out of the kindness of his heart. I owe him now. Or worse, Hunter owes him.

  That’s a debt I need to clear.

  “I’m sorry for involving you in this.” I slide my feet into my sneakers and approach the kitchen. “And I beg you not to hold my actions against anyone but me.”

  He reaches for a mug and takes a drink. “You’re worthless to me, little girl. Hunter, on the other hand, has been an asset I’ve wanted to control for quite some time.”

  “What will you do to him?”

  He takes another sip of tea, or coffee, or marijuana-infused water for all I know, and stares at me over the rim of his mug.

  “Please,” I beg. “I need to know.”

  Will he be tortured? Beaten? What will happen to Decker? Will they be treated the same? Punished equally?

  Hunter vowed on his life that I was telling the truth. It should’ve been my goddamn life.

  Torian cocks a judgmental brow, probably disgusted by my show of weakness. “I’ve worked with Hunter for years. But it has always been on a contractual basis. Under his terms. He had the freedom to pick and choose when and if we worked together.”

  “And?”

  “And he will no longer get to pick and choose. He will no longer be a contractor. He will be a valued part of my team that will fulfil any job I see fit.”

  Anguish overwhelms me. “You can’t make him hurt innocent people.” I shake my head. “You can’t. Eventually, he’ll turn on you. You’ll always have to watch your back.”

  “Nobody in my world is innocent. We all have a cross to bear. Even you.” His lips kick in a devilish grin. “And it’s not as difficult as you might think to break a warrior’s back. You just need to know his weakness.”

  He raises his mug and inclines his head, as if toasting my existence. Toasting the vulnerability I bring to Hunter’s life.

  “Cole,” the woman reprimands. “Stop it.” She walks by me, squeezing my arm as she passes. “Ignore him. My brother likes to be dramatic. But deep down, he loves Hunter. We all do.”

  Torian gives a barely audible chuckle. “I love the debt he now owes me, that’s for sure.”

  “Enough,” she demands. “The poor thing is petrified. Leave her be.”

  I’m not petrified.

  I’m angry.

&nbs
p; Unstable.

  She walks into the kitchen and opens a cupboard under the black marble bench. “Would you like a coffee? Or maybe something stronger?”

  “No, thanks.” I lean forward, looking down a hall to my right. There’s a door with light streaming through the frosted-glass panels. The front door, I’m sure.

  “Making an escape plan?” Torian taunts. “Don’t bother. I don’t want you here as much as you don’t want to be here. You’re free to go.”

  I snap my gaze to his in disbelief, my heart thundering beneath tightened ribs. Is this a trick?

  “Go on.” He jerks his head toward the hall.

  “You’re safe to leave,” the woman reiterates softly.

  I stare at the door, at freedom, as a shadow darkens the frosted glass from the other side. A knock sounds, and I hold my breath, hoping it’s Hunter.

  “Come in,” Torian yells.

  There’s a click of the latch, the air in my lungs congealing as I wait, impatiently, to see Decker walk inside, closing the door behind him.

  Where the hell is Hunter?

  I stalk toward him, stopping him halfway down the hall to throw my arms around him.

  He stiffens, long seconds passing before he drapes his arms around me in an awkward reciprocation of the gesture. “Hey, tiger. How are you holding up?”

  “I’m not sure yet. How about you?” I lean back to ask the question tightening my throat, but it lodges in my mouth as I acknowledge the extent of his drawn features. He looks exhausted, his skin pale.

  “I’ll be perfect once I catch some sleep.” He winks at me.

  I nod and wait for more, my gaze pleading for answers he doesn’t seem to understand. “Please tell me where he is. What happened at the police station? Is he okay?” The onslaught bubbles from me in a garbled mess.

  “You don’t have to worry about a thing.” He claps my shoulder and steps back. “Hunt took the fall, so you’re all clear on murder one.”

  “What?” I stumble backward as he walks around me, continuing down the hall. Hunter took the fall? He confessed? “Why?”

  Decker stops and turns back around to face me with a wince. “Sorry. Bad joke. He’s outside paying the cab driver.”

  “He’s here?” I swing around to the door as another shadow creeps over the glass, and seconds later Hunter walks inside.

  “Oh, God.” I rush for him, running the few feet of space separating us to engulf him in a body hug. He grunts with the impact, and I can’t find the will to apologize. I wrap my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist, and bury my face in his neck.

  “Hey, now, princess,” he whispers. “It’s okay.”

  I hold him tighter, squeezing until my muscles burn as his gentle arms wrap around my back.

  “Come on now.” His voice grows an authoritative edge and he pulls back, craning his neck to look at me. “It’s over. He’s gone.”

  “And you’re not going to jail?”

  “In your dreams, princess.”

  No. That’s the last thing I want. I’m so unbelievably thankful for this man. Gratitude and respect flood me.

  I cup his cheeks, his rough stubble teasing my palms as I take in every intricate detail of his harsh beauty. He’s unbelievably gorgeous. Even more so now that I know him.

  Trust him.

  “Are you okay?” He rests his forehead against mine

  “No.”

  He guides me to stand, keeping his hands on my hips as he scrutinizes me. “What is it?”

  I glance down the hall, making sure we don’t have an audience before I whisper, “What about Torian? What are you going to do about him?”

  A half-hearted smile pulls at his lips. “Don’t worry about him.”

  “But he practically said he’s going to make you his bitch.”

  “He can’t make me do anything.” He leans in, placing his mouth deliciously close to my ear. “He knows he’s nothing but another pull of the trigger if he gets on my bad side. As far as I’m concerned, he did us a solid today, and I’m thankful.”

  He retreats a step, his hands moving to my shoulders to give a gentle squeeze. The gesture is friendly, not affectionate. A goodbye, not a demand to stay by his side forever like I want.

  He’s pulling away from me, not just physically as he places farther space between us, but emotionally.

  I frown. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m giving you what you need, Sarah.” He sucks in a deep breath. “I’m letting you go.”

  My heart ceases to beat. My chest cracks open, exposing a hollow cavern.

  “I won’t follow,” he continues. “I won’t play any more games.”

  I should be relieved he’s giving me what I asked for. He’s giving me the space to get my life back on track, the solitude to regroup and reassess. But the celebratory emotions are non-existent.

  I’m devastated.

  Shattered.

  “What about the police?” I ask. “What about the investigation?”

  “You don’t need to worry about either. As far as they’re concerned, Jacob and Carlos killed each other, and you weren’t even there.”

  “Go on.” He jerks his head toward the door, his expression turning to stone. “I paid the cab driver to wait for you and drive you back to your apartment or wherever you want to go.”

  It’s not my apartment. Not anymore. But that’s the last thing on my mind.

  “I’ll organize a moving van and get your furniture back to you tomorrow.”

  I drag my gaze from him, unable to look him in the eye. “You might need to hold onto my things for a while longer. It’s not my apartment anymore. Brent would’ve found someone else by now.”

  “I hope not,” he murmurs. “Because I paid him to hold it for you weeks ago.”

  He did?

  “I knew this would all work itself out sooner or later, and I didn’t want you to lose your home,” he answers my unspoken question. “You have nothing to worry about anymore, Sarah.”

  Nothing but loneliness and heartbreak.

  I nod. “Right. I’ll get going, then.”

  I don’t move. I can’t.

  I want to stay. With him. With Decker. In this crazy life that not only tipped my world upside down but rocked my foundations. But maybe that’s the adrenaline talking, or the pounding headache, or the lack of restful sleep.

  He gives me a sad smile and swings out an arm to lead me to the door. He’s calm. Stoic.

  It tears me apart.

  He pulls the door wide, giving me a view of the mansions and manicured gardens outside, along with the cab waiting in the drive.

  How do I say goodbye to this man? The one who tricked me with his lies and won me over with his loyalty.

  “Thank you for everything,” I murmur.

  “You’re thanking me now?” He gives a subtle grin, that dimple stunning me with its exquisite allure.

  “Yes. For what you did today, I’ll be forever grateful.”

  He lowers his gaze, that grin turning somber. “Don’t mention it.”

  I keep my head high, faking determination as I walk outside into the dimming late-afternoon sun, and approach the cab.

  I don’t want to leave, but it’s the only thing I know. I’m always running, always seeking distance. I don’t have any experience doing anything else. Staying and fighting for what my heart craves is a foreign concept I don’t know how to battle.

  “Wait,” he calls.

  I freeze, as if moving even an inch will stop him from trying to make me stay. My belly tumbles as his footsteps approach, then he grabs my hand and gently glides me around to face him.

  My lungs seize as he leans in, placing the sweetest, softest, most flawless kiss on my tingling lips. I could die from the pleasure. From the affection and pure perfection.

  Then he steps back, turns toward the house, and stalks away. “Goodbye, princess.”

  Epilogue

  Her

  One month later

  I saunte
r into Atomic Buzz and approach Brent behind the bar.

  “Your third visit this week,” he drawls. “I don’t know if I should be thankful for the company or concerned of impending alcoholism.”

  I roll my eyes and slide into my favorite seat. “I didn’t realize I could become an alcoholic from two drinks a night.”

  “Everyone has to start somewhere.” He grins at me and slides over a Long Island Iced Tea, my current drink of choice. “You’re just a little slower at this than my regulars.”

  After I left Hunter a month ago, I came here. There had been nowhere else to go. I’d loathed the thought of spending another night in a hotel when I knew Hunter wouldn’t come after me, and my apartment was nothing but empty space.

  Brent had welcomed me back with open arms and a large amount of growled concern. He’d wanted to know what happened, and for the first time in ten years, I’d been willing to pour my heart out.

  I told him everything.

  Well, not everything.

  I explained the situation with my family and went into detail about my search for the man who murdered them. He now knew that Hunter had helped me find Jacob, and thankfully he didn’t pester me for more details when I gave vague references to why my time with both men had come to an end.

  Brent looked after me for those first few days. He let me crash on his couch for a night, and helped the moving company place my furniture back in my apartment the next day when the truck arrived.

  He became more than a friend in a short space of time, and quickly turned into someone I now consider family.

  “How was the old duck today?” he asks, polishing the bar. “Did she make me any cookies?”

  “The cookies are always mine, you know that.” I smirk. “But she’s good. We spent three hours in her kitchen while she unsuccessfully tried to teach me how to make a red velvet white trifle.”

  Brent snickers. “I guess you can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”

  “I’m not old.” I glare.

  Betty had been another task on my newly made bucket list. It had taken me a week to work up the courage to return to Eagle Creek. When my cab pulled into her driveway, she had been standing on the porch, looking down on me as I stepped onto her lawn.