Hunter (Broken Bad Boys 1): A New Adult Bad Boy Romance

by Heart,Skylar

  “Just… Stay safe. And I’ll see you soon, I guess.” She lets out a small smile as she gets back to her other students.

  Yeah, staying safe. I’m not sure how good I am at that these days.

  I tip back another beer. It’s late and I know that if I want to get up on time tomorrow I should leave now. But the atmosphere in the bar changed a while ago. There is some nervous energy going around, something volatile. It makes my skin itch and I can’t leave here now. The beer in my system puts me on edge and I just want to do something.

  A guy bumps into my back, and I twist around, grabbing him close. “What did you do that for?”

  “Sorry,” The man slurs. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

  “You don’t seem that sorry. You just kept walking on.” My voice rises and I know that people around us are now paying attention.

  The guy’s eyes go wide and I raise my other hand, balling it into a fist.

  “H.” A low voice tries to pull my attention away from the man in my hands. “Don’t do this.”

  But it’s too late. My fist flies and connects with the drunken man’s nose. Blood immediately starts dripping on my hand and I let him go as I hear footsteps all around me. Then a fist collides with the side of my face. I try to mow the guy on my side down, but it only scrapes his shoulder. Another guy hits me right on my jaw and I blink, trying to make the stars go away. I did it again, didn’t I?

  I take a deep breath and rush into the guy at my other side. If they’re going to take me down, I’m taking as many people down with me as I can.

  The next moments turn into a blur until a police car and an ambulance pull up right next to me. When did I get outside? I try to stand up, but that doesn’t seem to work. I sit back down as two men walk to me. One of them is holding a pair of cuffs. Kinky.

  “I think it’s time to spend another night in a cold cell, Hunter.” Now that they are closer, I recognize one of the officers. Oh, great. This is the fourth time in the last six months that he’s picked me up outside a bar. Because of fighting, naturally.

  I try to stand again, but it’s not working—the booze and the adrenaline don’t make my coordination any better. The two cops pull me up and get me over to where the EMTs are looking at one of the other guys.

  “Can you check him out before we take him in?” The guy who has taken me in before puts the cuffs on me. I try hard to remember his name, but I can’t come up with anything, and the blur in my head is not helping.

  One of the EMTs starts poking at me and shining a light into my eyes. Then he steps back, a look of disgust on his face. “He’s fine, just drunk. He’ll be really sore in the morning, that’s all. Unlike some of the others.” The man walks away and the cop starts pulling on my arm.

  “Let’s get you into the car and then into a cell. Even though I have no faith that it will help one damn bit.”

  I’m roughly shoved into the car and then the door closes behind me. Another guy is already in the back of the car. He doesn’t look that good and I’m pretty sure he’s one of the guys I just fought with. Whatever.

  I look out the window as the city passes me by. Unlike the bus ride a couple of weeks ago, this is something I’ve gotten a bit too familiar with. The city at night, passing me by in a blur of booze and adrenaline. Not the best way to view it.

  I groan as I try to turn around in bed. Waking up in a cell this morning was such a bad idea. I grab next to the bed and find the glass of water. I down it before I sit up properly.

  Luckily they let me go without getting anyone involved. I apparently broke a guy’s nose, but he is not pressing charges, which makes me very lucky. I know that some of the cops there would have gladly sent me to prison. And I’m not sure I can blame them.

  I’ve slept through most of the day, not having slept very well last night. I check my phone but there are no messages, so the news hasn’t gotten to my parents yet. Maybe I can keep it that way. They don’t always have to know… I open my eyes fully and the sun shines straight into them, intensifying the headache that’s coming on. Ugh.

  Why do I keep doing this? Why do I keep drinking and then getting into fights? I used to be somewhat of a hothead. But last night… I just started a fight over nothing. Because I was bored, because I was upset, because I’m always angry inside.

  My phone starts ringing. It’s not my mum, it’s Tamara.

  “Hi.” I try to sound normal, but that isn’t really working.

  “Hey, do you want to come with some of us to the museum tonight? They’ve got some modern sculpture, art, music, dance thing going on. I got a couple of free tickets.” She sounds so excited, but I’m not sure I should show up like this.

  “Eh. I’m sorry, I can’t.” I close my eyes. I can hear from the pause in her breath that this was the wrong answer.

  “What did you do this time?” The words are sad, and it makes me feel even worse. “Did you get into another fight?”

  “Yes.” I try to say it as quietly as possible, but it doesn’t make the guilt any less.

  “I thought…” She lets out a sigh. “I thought that you coming back to classes meant that you were over that.” That, fighting, getting in trouble, making trouble…

  “I’m sorry.” I don’t know what else to say. I thought I was over it too.

  “You need… I’ll see you next week.” She sounds so defeated, like I disappointed her the most I’ve ever done. And she has seen her fair share of my fuck-ups. “Just… Please feel well.” And she hangs up.

  I put the phone down and a tight feeling in my chest threatens to overwhelm me. Why won’t I stop being stupid like this? Why do I keep messing up? I slowly get out of bed and make my way to the bathroom. I need to check the damage, and I definitely need a shower.

  I take my shirt off and there is a big bruise blooming on my ribs, the dark purple not promising much good. There is a bruise on my jaw too and my lip has split. There are some random bruises on my arms and upper body, but none of them as dark as the one on my ribs. I think someone might have kicked me there.

  I take the rest of my clothes off and step under the shower, the hot water easing some of the tension in my body. I put my face under the water and twitch as the first blast stings the bruises. Ugh, that is gonna stay for at least a week. Now I need to get to class with a bruise on my face. So not good. That’s not going to help my reputation…

  Chapter 7

  Lizzy

  It’s hot, and humid, and I’m in no mood to stay at home, so I grab my bag with tools and make my way down to the forest. Maybe being out in nature will ease the tension.

  My parents were looking at me again. I apparently didn’t eat my dinner fast enough last night. Well, I was enjoying myself. Why would they be so uptight about that? I’ve been good, I’ve been really good lately, but still, that look in their eyes won’t go away. I even offered to step on the scale just so Mum would stop hovering. But she rejected it, almost offended somehow that I offered.

  They don’t see me anymore, they see my illness. Ever since this started, they stopped seeing me as a person. Now I’m nothing more than my illness, a list of symptoms that need to be solved. I’ve become this thing to be fed, anything else I do no longer matters. Not my art, not that I’m a young woman who needs her freedom. Nope, just the food.

  I walk down the main path through the forest, looking for the road less traveled. It leads to a nice secluded spot that has lots of sun and isn’t visible from the road. I like being there, especially during the summer months—the forest cools even the smallest amount of wind and there is a spot where the sun is perfect. I can sit there, the paper on my lap, and draw, draw for hours, not worrying about anything.

  There it is, the clearing. It is hidden from the main road by some shrubbery and I haven’t been disturbed here before. People don’t like to walk off the path and when their dogs go off this far, they’re usually called back before they’re close to me.

  I push the leaves aside and step into the clearing. Th
e sun shines immediately onto my face and I smile.

  Hello, sun, will you be my drawing partner today? Will you make the forest around me all pretty so I can draw it in its most glorious form?

  The sound of hooves nearby makes me look up from my drawing. I’m not sure what is going on, but I don’t hear horses here very often, especially not this far away from the main roads. I slowly stand up and make my way to where the sounds come from. I can smell the strong scent of horse before I’ve even stepped through the curtain of leaves that protects me from the rest of the world.

  Just a couple of feet away there is a man on a horse, like a prince out of a fairytale, only the horse is a dull brown and the man doesn’t look very prince-like. He looks like he might be in pain as he moves slowly. His broad back bulges under a tight T-shirt and his legs look like steel in the leather pants.

  He hasn’t realized I’m here yet, and I don’t really feel like talking to people today, so I retreat back into the clearing.

  A stick snaps under my heel and both horse and rider turn to me abruptly. It takes me not even a second before I recognize the rider. Hunter. He may not be Prince Charming, but he definitely is a Prince of Darkness. There are bruises on his face and I now also see them on his arms. He looks… broken. I freeze in my spot, not daring to move, too scared to set him off. If he looks like that, I don’t want to end up on the other side of his fists.

  Hunter slowly gets off his horse, letting out a hiss as he lowers himself to the ground. Only when he is standing right in front of me does he say something. “Lizzy.” His voice is rough, quiet, then he reaches up, almost touching me.

  That finally breaks me out of my trance and I step back, shaking my head.

  A smile tugs at his lips, but then he looks me over and I see the clouds gather in his stormy eyes. Fuck. “What are you doing here?” he asks.

  What? Out of everything, that is what he wants to know? “It’s the weekend, there is a lovely sun out. What else am I supposed to be doing?”

  The question seems to surprise him. He shrugs and lets out a sigh. “No clue.”

  We both fall quiet. I can’t help but stare at the bruises. They look so dark, and so painful.

  Hunter reaches out, takes my hand, and puts it on his jaw. I want to pull back, but he holds it there. “I’m not scary, or dangerous.” His low voice is pitched even lower and something stirs inside me.

  He is though—he is scary, and apparently quite dangerous to someone, if the bruises are anything to go by. But I know that isn’t what he means. He means that he is no danger to me. And I don’t know how I feel about that… “And yet you are.” I quickly close my mouth and look away. He finally lets go of my hand as he lets out a laugh.

  “I just make stupid choices sometimes, usually when I’ve had a bit to drink.” He steps back and reaches out to the horse, who pushes against him slightly. He murmurs something at the horse and then looks back at me. “What were you up to?”

  I shrug, suddenly extra self-conscious. “Drawing.” It’s nothing special, just a way to relax really. I step back through the curtain of leaves, back into the sunshine.

  Then Hunter follows me, him and the horse. Just looking at them like this makes my heart race. I don’t know what is going on or why, but my body is responding to Hunter like crazy. This is yet another side of Hunter, a side where he cares for the horse so deeply, a side where even though I can see the proof of his aggression, it’s still hard to believe he would hurt anyone.

  I turn around, back to where I sat, back to my drawing, putting a safe distance between us.

  Hunter saunters into the clearing, then turns around and loosens the girth on the horse’s saddle. He drapes the reins over a branch and comes over to where I’m sitting. “What are you drawing?” He steps behind me and I can feel the heat of his skin, smell his musk. It makes my body run haywire.

  I swallow hard. “Just, nothing really.” I’ve been doodling mostly, small images overlapping, twisting from one to the other.

  Hunter laughs and I look up at him, frowning. I don’t like to be laughed at, especially not about little doodles that I make. He holds up his hands. “I like it, they’re cute. I like how it’s all to do with night and darkness.” He’s quiet for a moment, then reaches out and points at one of the doodles. “Did you really personify the moon as a biker?”

  “Possibly.” It wasn’t really the moon I was going for, but I can understand why he’d think so. I hadn’t even realized that I was doodling a theme, but then again, I’m not really surprised by it either. It wasn’t really the moon or the night I was thinking of, more like… Hunter. I flip over to the next page, too aware of Hunter’s presence to keep working on the page. In a way, scared that he’ll figure out that the drawings are a lot more personal than what is going on around us.

  “You’re really good.” He walks a bit off and stretches in the sun. His muscles ripple under the shirt and the leather pants, muscles that show that this guy is used to working with his body. And not the type of muscles that you get from going to the gym—the type of muscles that you get from working hard in construction or something like that. He, in a way, looks more like a model than an artist.

  “You sound surprised.” I cock an eyebrow at him and Hunter grins as he looks at me.

  “Not really. Surprised by your style though.” He reaches for the hem of his shirt and takes it off. He drops it on the floor and slides down next to it. There are more bruises on his back and sides, dark bruises, scary bruises. They look like they really hurt. But also… there are tattoos spiraling over his chest and around to his arm. I never expected that. Sure, with his look and attitude, I should have known. I just never really expected it.

  “Like what you see?” Hunter has a satisfied grin as he looks at me through nearly closed eyes, a smile that makes my stomach do weird things.

  “You look like hell.” Oh, damn. What a silly thing to say.

  Hunter shrugs. “I feel like hell warmed over. But it’s my own fault anyway.” He lies back on the grass and closes his eyes. The sun shines off his amazing abs and I’m trying my hardest not to stare at him.

  I return to the page in front of me, drawing, doodling, but even as I busy my hands, I can already see what is forming on the page. It’s not Hunter as he is now, instead it’s him with fists coming at him fast. I keep going, adding details, making the image clearer. The image of why I can’t be with him, why Hunter is bad for me.

  Aggression, fights, getting in trouble… I don’t want a guy like that, I don’t need a guy like that. So why do I keep looking at him? Why can’t I keep my eyes off him? Why do all my drawings from the last weeks have something to do with him?

  “Are you sure you’re fine?” Hunter walks next to me as we step out of the clearing, into the forest.

  “Yeah, yeah. Just a little sunburn.” Sitting in the clearing, surrounded by the silence and totally focused on the image I was creating. I kind of lost track of time, and now I’m redder than a lobster.

  “A little?” He shakes his head.

  “It’s not like you’re much better.” I poke at his side and Hunter winces. “Oh, sorry, so sorry.” I’ve forgotten the bruises all over his chest and sides. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “It’s okay. You didn’t break me.” And there is that smile again, the one that is so hard to resist, and still, I have to.

  I roll my eyes at him. “You don’t have to walk me home, you know.”

  He shrugs. “It’s not like I’ve got better things to do anyway. It’s nice to be out here.” He keeps his strides equal with mine, keeping the same pace.

  “You’re a special kind of twisted, you know that?” I can’t help but sigh. He’s walking me home, even though he probably has better places to be. I’m on one side and the horse is walking on his other side.

  “Yeah, I know. I’m fully aware.” The smile disappears, his eyes focusing on something far away.

  And I’m totally crap at holding conversations… �
��Sorry, I didn’t mean anything bad by it.”

  “You’re right though. I’m twisted. In bad ways.” There is something in his voice—a sadness, a determination—that stops me from asking any more questions. It’s that darkness again, that darkness I saw the first time I laid my eyes on him. That darkness that both attracts and repels me.

  We walk side by side, first through the forest and then through the neighborhood where I live. The trees and fields give way to boring houses, row after row after row.

  I stop when I’m in front of my door. The door to my own little place, that is, which was originally the door to the garage. “This is me.”

  Hunter blinks as he looks around, then he smiles and nods. “For someone as creative as you, you live in a boring place.”

  “I live in the garage. We converted it into a studio.” I do have some pride in where I live, especially since I’ve made it my own.

  “Ah, cool. Maybe I’ll see it some day. For now though, I need to return home.” He looks me over. “See you tomorrow at lit class.”

  I roll my eyes. “Ugh. I guess it can’t be helped, it’s not like I’ve really got a choice.”

  “Nope.” He pulls on the horse’s girth, checking something, and then he pushes himself up into the saddle, trying to hide a groan that I still hear. “See you tomorrow.”

  “See you tomorrow.” I look after him as Hunter rides off the way we came.

  I let out a deep breath, trying to calm my heart. Why does it keep beating like that when he’s around? I don’t want it to. I can’t do this. But that doesn’t stop what is happening.

  And the darkness in his eyes… I saw it again just now. I can’t deal with it. I won’t survive it if his gaze ever falls on me that way. He’ll rip me apart in more than ways than one. We’ll both be left behind, more broken than we ever were before.