Hunter

by Blaire Drake

  “And one day, you're gonna give up on your quest to get inside my pants.”

  He pursed his lips, his eyes flashing with laughter. “Sorry. That doesn't make any sense to me.”

  I laughed. Ever since I'd turned eighteen, he was certain that sooner or later, I'd give in to his random attempts at seduction and let him give me what he proclaimed would be 'the night of my life.'

  That was five years ago.

  He was still trying.

  I had to give him props for effort. He wasn't letting it go, and if I were a weaker woman, I'd have given in long ago. Unfortunately for Gaige, I was too attached to our friendship to let something like that ruin it. Not to mention Darien was sure he wanted more than just one night, and with my future plans, that was out of the question.

  I was no virgin. I was no slut. I was happily somewhere in the middle where I met guys, I screwed guys, and I conveniently lost their numbers.

  There was no room for attachments in my world. Not while it was at risk of total catastrophe.

  I would take down my father and any man who got in my way, but I wouldn't take anyone else down with me. There was a huge difference. I refused to put anyone at risk.

  Maybe that's why I was so hesitant to do actually go through with my own promise.

  I knew Darien would insist on coming, even if I refused, and I also knew he'd be shot on sight for being the accessory to our disappearance. I wouldn't have him killed for Mamma's choice, even if he knew the risk when he agreed.

  He gave me life, and I would ensure he kept his, no matter the cost to myself.

  “You're in another dimension again,” Gaige said. He kicked me across the sofa.

  I swatted at him. “Just because I'm thinking doesn't mean I'm not listening to you.”

  “Yeah? What did I just say?”

  My lips pursed. Shit. He had me there. “Something about not walking out of my room if you ever catch me masturbating.”

  “Are you finally admitting you masturbate?”

  “This is a highly inappropriate conversation to be having right now.” My cheeks flushed as I put down my water bottle and got up. Time to go... I don't know. Do laundry or something.

  “Ah-ha!” Gaige ran after me. I tried to shut the door to the laundry room, but he stuck his foot in the gap, thwarting that plan. “I knew you did.”

  “Oh, for the love of God. I'm a twenty-three year old, single woman. Do you really think I lead an orgasm-less life?” I dragged the laundry basket in front of the empty washing machine and shoved a handful of clothes into it. “I'm not exactly a nun, Gaige.”

  “I know, I know. I'm just teasing.” He leaned against the doorframe, a grin stretched across his face. His biceps bulged as he folded his arms across his chest. “I've never seen you with a guy, that's all.”

  “Because some of us don't flaunt our conquests in the faces of others.”

  “I know that, too. And I don't flaunt.”

  “You do.” I put the last handful of dark clothing into the machine drum and closed it. I missed the old top-opening washer. I hated sitting on the floor to do this, and there was no way I'd ever catch Darien doing something as horrifying as washing my underwear. Fucker expected me to wash his though, didn't he?

  “Your panties are on the floor.”

  I snapped my head away from the control panel and looked at the floor. Yep. There we go. Clear as a day against the light gray tiles—my navy blue, lace thong.

  Fucking brilliant.

  I snatched it up and hurriedly put it in the machine, slamming the door once it was safely in there. Gaige laughed loudly, bending forward. I threw a clothes peg at his head as the machine whirred to life.

  My panties safely inside it.

  “I swear if I didn't love you, I'd kill you.” I lightly punched him in the arm as I passed him. “You're a prick.”

  My insult only made him laugh harder, and he grabbed me around the shoulders and squeezed me. His body shook with each chuckle. “Ah, Addy. You're so easy to embarrass.”

  “I also know how to shoot you and kill you instantly, so I'd back up on the embarrassing.” I elbowed him in the side.

  He refused to let go of me. “I can do the same.”

  “You won't have a chance to shoot me if I shoot you first.”

  “So shoot me.”

  “Nah. You're not worth the jail time, and I don't have anyone to buy me out of it.” I grinned and finally extracted myself from his grip, only to drop myself on the sofa with a dramatic flair. I even added a sigh for good measure.

  Gaige was exhausting.

  “Seriously, though, is there any real reason you're here?” I asked him when he sat down. “Or are you just here to piss me off?”

  “Well, the pissing you off is a bonus.” His smile lit up his soft brown eyes. “But yes. I am here for a reason.”

  “Oh, goodie. You're never here for a reason, so this can't be good.”

  His expression sobered. “Not exactly.”

  I waited for him to speak, but he didn't. Gaige was the kind of man who would never use five words if he could use fifty, so for him to have no words at all... Well, it worried me. A lot. I kept waiting, but he still didn't talk, and now, he wasn't even looking at me.

  His eyes were fixed on the TV although the screen was blank. His knee was bobbing up and down quickly, and his shoulders heaved as he inhaled loudly.

  “Gaige?” My voice was quiet. “What's wrong?”

  “Angelo went to Chicago last week.” He turned back to me, all traces of amusement in his gaze completely gone. In its place was hesitance and, if I wasn't mistaken, a glimpse of fear.

  “I knew that. He goes every three months.”

  “Yeah. When he left, he overheard your dad's consigliere talking to Gino Sollecito's.” He stopped again. “They don't believe you're dead anymore.”

  Slowly, my brows pulled into a frown. “They've believed it for ten years. Why would they suddenly change their mind?”

  “I don't know, Addy. They stopped talking after that because they saw Angelo looking at them. That's all he heard.” Gaige runs his hand through his already messy hair. “This isn't good. If they find out you're alive, then we're all in trouble.”

  “Because you've been hiding me,” I whispered softly, drawing my gaze away from his. “I knew this would happen.”

  “You're prepared for it though, right? You and Darien? You have a plan?”

  No. “Of course we have a plan, but without knowing if they've found us here, then it could be hard to move without alerting them. Is that all Angelo heard?” I looked back at him. “That they think I'm actually alive?”

  “Your mom, too,” he answered. “But, yeah. That's it.”

  “Well, there isn't much I can do off of that.”

  “Do you want me to find out more?”

  “No.” I touched his knee and patted it gently. “It's okay. I won't ask you to put yourself at risk any longer. If they come for me, they come. I'm not going anywhere without a goddamn fight to the death.”

  Gaige's nostrils flared, and he grabbed my hand. His fingers wrapped around mine and squeezed so tightly I felt every bit of his apprehension in that one touch. “And that, Adriana, is exactly what I'm afraid of.”

  ***

  “Addy?” Darien's voice traveled through the house, followed by the shutting of the front door.

  “Hey,” I called back, shuffling on the sofa. My feet were resting on the back of it, and I knew he'd hate it, but I couldn't be bothered to move. I'd been in a slump ever since Gaige had left six hours ago. He was reluctant to leave me alone until Darien came home, but there was no way he could stay here until almost midnight.

  “You're still awake?” Darien asked, walking into the front room. He loosened his tie as his eyes fell on me. They skirted over my feet on the back. “What's wrong?”

  “Why does something have to be wrong for me to be up late? I'm not tired, that's all.” I dropped my feet down and sat up, crossing my leg
s instead. “How was work?”

  “It was work. Stopped her getting groped by tons of fans and almost got arrested for shoving an over-enthusiastic photographer out of the way. It still amazes me that of all the cities in America, your mother chose this one.” He pulled his tie out and undid the top button of his white shirt.

  “You could move, you know. You don't have to stay here.”

  “We've already discussed this, scuro.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

  “Good. Now tell me why you're really up late. I know you're tired because I can see the shadows beneath your eyes. Rossi still out?”

  I shook my head. “He came back after presumably failing to find any food.” And they say cats bring us humans dead birds and things to feed us. The only time my cat has ever brought me anything is when he pulled the salmon off the kitchen counter and wanted to eat it at my feet.

  “He's a pathetic excuse for a cat.” Darien sits back in the armchair and rests his ankle on his other knee. “Now what's up?”

  “Geez, you're like a dog with a bone, ain'tcha?”

  “Yes, because the only time you hide things from me is when it's bad, so I know this is bad.”

  “Who says I'm hiding anything?”

  His answer was the raise of his eyebrows.

  “You shouldn't do that,” I told him. “It'll give you even more wrinkles.”

  Which was bullshit, because the man was fifty and barely had a single damn wrinkle.

  “You and I are this close,” he pinched his finger and thumb together in front of his face, “to fighting over this.”

  I sighed heavily and rolled my eyes. “Gaige came over earlier.”

  “Are you finally going to go on a date with the poor guy? He's been pining for years.”

  “Darien. No. And he's not pining—he's my best friend. He just happens to have a perpetual potential boner where I'm concerned.” This conversation would be awkward, but Darien's always insisted that he was the 'fun uncle' and not a father, so he's gotta deal.

  “Only potential?” he questioned, one eyebrow quirked.

  “True,” I acquiesced. “Maybe it's not potential all the time.” I guess that it is a literal boner occasionally. Depends what I'm wearing. Luckily, today was a sweats day, not that it thwarted his attempt.

  “Okay, so if it wasn't his attempt to date you, then what is it?”

  I licked my dry lips slowly. I could feel them chapping as my tongue slipped over my lower one. “You know how Angelo went to Chicago last week?”

  Darien sat up straight, his foot dropping back to the floor. It was quick, and I knew he was one hundred percent listening to me. “Yes.”

  I wrung my hands together, then forced myself to stop, clasping them in my lap instead. I met his dark brown eyes with fear bundling in my belly. “He heard Gino's consigliere talking to my father's.”

  His fists clenched. “Go on.”

  “He didn't hear much, but my father thinks I'm alive.”

  Darien squeezed his eyes shut, then pinched the bridge of his nose. “When did he hear it? And is that all?”

  “Yes.”

  “Armo should have called us,” he bit out, referring to Angelo and Gaige's father. “Straight away.”

  “I know. I told Gaige before he left, but he shrugged and said he told his dad to. It was only when he realized he hadn't called you that he came over.” I tucked my hair behind my ear. “What do we do?”

  He took a deep breath, still pinching his nose, and leaned forward. His elbows rested on his knees and he glanced up to meet my eyes. “We see if we can find out more. Not everyone in the Romano hierarchy is entirely loyal to your father, Addy. They stay for their safety, but it's how I've been able to keep you safe.”

  “So you can find out what my father's plan is?”

  “Not necessarily.” He sighed. “If it was common knowledge in the family, I would have known already. I will try to find out, but it sounds like this is information your father wants to keep close to him.”

  “Because they already think I'm dead,” I said softly. “And if I'm not, he will be questioned.”

  “Precisely. And if he's questioned, his time as Don is over.”

  “Good. He shouldn't fucking be there anyway.”

  “I know, bambina.” Darien stood and walked to me. He dropped a kiss on the top of my head, then turned away. “Don't stay up too late. You have class at eight.”

  “I know.” I smiled up at him.

  He reached the doorway and looked at me. “You will be safe, Adriana. I promise you.”

  “I know,” I repeated, still smiling.

  I hoped.

  Chapter Two – Hunter

  Rain hammered against the window as the car sped down the road toward the Hamptons. Frustration had been coiled in my stomach for the last twenty-four hours—ever since I'd first heard the rumors.

  That Adriana Romano was alive.

  I was sure I'd lost my fucking mind—or that the people who'd started the rumor had. There was no way she was still alive. She'd died in a car crash with Alexandria when she was thirteen and I was fifteen. I fucking remember being told. I remember finding out that she was dead.

  I went to the fucking funeral. I cried my broken heart out over her white and gold casket.

  And for what? To find out ten years later that she might be alive?

  I was a clusterfuck of searing emotion. I wanted to slam my fist into a wall, just to see the plaster break, at the same time I wanted to tell everyone to leave me the hell alone so I could cry like a pussy.

  Ten years.

  Ten. Mother. Fucking. Years.

  Enzio Romano. My boss. Her father. Godfather of the Romano family. Now the idea was in my head, there was every damn chance he'd been lying through his damn teeth when he told us she was dead. I remember his tears as he struggled to get the words out—as he spun a web of sick lies for his own agenda. As he sobbed as he described Darien's crash.

  Suicide mission, he'd called it. He'd found the note in Darien's room.

  He was sickly in love with Alexandria, and couldn't stand the fact that she wouldn't divorce Enzio. The only way to be with her was death, and the bastardo had killed his bambina with his wife.

  But maybe it was all a lie... Every last word.

  I hated him. Enzio. I wanted to rip his throat out with my bare hands, but I couldn't. I had to be numb, pretend I didn't care, be the killer he'd raised me to be.

  Because that's all I was to him. Not the man his daughter once loved. Not the fourteen year old boy who promised his twelve year old daughter than no one would ever touch her and that one day he'd marry her, just to make sure of it.

  A killer.

  Born, raised, and groomed. There was so much blood on my hands I could barely see the lines of my palms. Lord only knew that my knuckles were scarred. My fingers were calloused, and I constantly believe it was a miracle that my nails weren't stained with gunpowder from all the triggers I'd pulled.

  I didn't want to think of the number. Mental tally or not. I hated myself for what I was, but there was no other choice.

  There was only one way out of the family: death.

  I sometimes thought death would be a welcome reprieve from the guilt I carried around from all the lives I'd taken. Thoughtlessly, too... I didn't even spare a thought for the people I was instructed to kill. Not their families, not their friends. Husbands, wives, mothers, brothers... children.

  None. Not a single thought.

  If I did, I'd never pull the trigger.

  The trigger would be pulled on me.

  I ran my fingers through my hair and looked out of the window. I was certain we were breaking the speed limit, but you didn't argue with a Romano driver under the orders of Enzio.

  “Pack a bag,” he'd said to me an hour ago. “I have a job for you.”

  So I packed a bag and got in the car when it came. You didn't argue with Enzio Romano. Unless you wanted to die, of course. I'd be lying if I said I'd
never toyed with the idea... Just to escape.

  I knew escape would never fucking come. I was too good with a gun, too steady, too coordinated. There was no chance of me ever being an associate or having a simple job. It was my own fault. My own, stupid, natural fucking talent kept me alive.

  Because it was easier to pull the trigger on others than on myself.

  Because I was a fucking chicken in a wolf's outfit.

  The driver turned into the Hamptons. It occurred to me that perhaps I should ask him his name, how his day's going, all that menial shit you're expected to do, but he hadn't showed any signs of wanting conversation, so I hadn't indulged in it.

  I was grateful. The last thing I needed when I was being sent on a job was to talk to someone. I wanted to walk in, get my job, then walk right back out again. No frills or fucking fancies.

  I hated frills and fucking fancies.

  I watched the raindrops as they slid down the window. I focused solely on them, clearing my mind of any thoughts and washing away every emotion I felt. The mundane paths the drops trailed on the glass was welcome.

  Mundane was good. Mundane was raw. Numb. Unfeeling. Mundane was necessary.

  The car pulled up outside the giant house I recognsied so well. The heart of the Romano family, and Enzio Romano's unsuspecting fortress.

  I pushed open the door and got out before the driver could do it. I didn't need his help to get out of a damn car. I left my belongings inside it, because my next stop was the private airstrip where Enzio's jet would be waiting to take me to wherever I needed to be. The car wouldn't move.

  The door opened as I walked in. I picked lint off my coat as I passed Enzio's butler—I never did learn his name, and I doubted I ever would. My shoes squeaked against the flawlessly clean wooden floor, and I turned down the hall that lead to Enzio's office. His bodyguard, known only to everyone as Socci, was standing outside, his arms crossed in front of his chest. The large mahogany door he was guarding made him look small, although I knew he was six foot six and at least three hundred pounds of pure muscle.

  If I didn't know I could put a bullet between his eyes quicker than he could mine, I'd be afraid of him.