Hunter

by Blaire Drake

  “Trying to work out whose life is worth more, right? Mine is probably worth a lifetime of comfort for you. Kill me and everyone's happy, right? My pathetic excuse for a father gets to keep his empire and you're taken care of for life.”

  He looked at me, and his expression was a little tortured. I was being harsh. I knew that. But I needed to be. It was easier to provoke him and be angry with him than give in to the horrible ache that had settled in my heart.

  “Adriana...” Weak. The word was weak.

  I wanted to ignore the indecision on his face, but I couldn't.

  He was considering it.

  He really was.

  I scoffed quietly at him and grabbed the gun from the coffee table. His mask and gloves fell to the floor, but he made no move to pick them up. The safety was on the gun, and I held it out to him. “Here. Take it. I don't care, Hunter. I don't have much of a life here in hiding anyway.”

  He didn't even look at the gun. His silvery gaze never left mine. I wished he would look away, because in that gaze, I saw the Hunter I knew. The boy who once ripped his favorite shirt to stem the bleeding when I fell and cut my leg, then proceeded to carry me home. The boy who offered to pee on my foot when I got stung by a jellyfish in Mexico on vacation when I was seven.

  The boy I loved before I knew what love even was.

  “You're weak, Hunter,” I whispered. Slowly, I turned the gun back to me and touched the barrel to my temple the way he did. His jaw clenched when my thumb edged toward the safety, and when my finger moved to hook around the trigger, he moved.

  He was like a lightning bolt. He came at me like a flash, snatched the gun from my hand, and dropped it on the sofa. It bounced but stayed on the seat, and then he turned on me with blazing eyes. “Don't,” he ground out, his arms tensing and looking even bigger. “Don't ever fucking put that to your head again.”

  “Why? I was saving you the job.”

  The words had barely left my lips when he pounced on me. It was deadly, the way his hands clasped my face and his mouth descended on mine. I staggered back into the wall, gasping at the ferocity of his movement. Shock paralyzed me as he kissed me harshly. His tongue ran along the seam of my mouth, and as I fisted the sides of his shirt, I bit his lower lip.

  A low growl left his throat, but he didn't relent. He just kissed me harder. He kissed me until I was fucking spinning and could barely string two thoughts together. Until my whole body was alight with his touch and responding to his every movement.

  He tasted like whiskey. The strong, rich taste that lingered on his lips was heady and only added to the intoxicating way he touched me.

  And then... It hit me. He was touching me. Kissing me.

  Twenty minutes ago, he could have killed me.

  The thought gave me the strength to shove him away from me. I covered my mouth with my hands as his eyes blazed back at me with an angry heat I'd never seen before. My heart was beating so harshly I felt it right through my body, and I couldn't catch my breath, but how fucking dare he?

  “How dare you,” I breathed, fighting for oxygen. “How fucking dare you come into my house and do what you have!” I slammed my hands into his chest, but he didn't move. “Fuck, Hunter! What the fuck?” I pushed at him again and again but he was too strong for me. It was like flicking a brick wall despite the fact I had my whole body behind each shove.

  His hands darted out and grasped my wrists to stop me. His grip was tight but not painful, and my skin tingled as the roughness of his palms rubbed against me. “How dare I?” His voice was deathly quiet. “How dare I? From the girl whose last words to me were “I'm pretty sure I'm going to marry you one day.” From the girl who fucking promised me she'd be mine forever then up and left without a fucking words twenty four fucking hours later, huh, Addy? How fucking dare I when you ran out on your family and everyone who loved you? How dare I when you broke my fucking heart and I cried for motherfucking days when I thought you were dead?”

  “We had to go!” I didn't mean it to come out as a scream, but it did, and it was so raw it made my throat hurt. I tugged on his grip so hard he had to let me go. I squeezed my eyes shut as I ran my fingers through my hair. “You think we wanted to leave? Fucking really? I wanted to tell you where I was, but I couldn't. It was too risky. It wasn't a whimsical, last-minute idea.”

  “Why?” he asked me hoarsely. “Why did you go?”

  “He sold me!” I backed up and wrapped my arms around my waist. It still stung, even now, ten years later. He was my father, and I’d loved him more than life until that day when I realized I was nothing more than a disposable pawn to him.

  Hunter stilled. The expression his face took on was thunderous, and the tension that threaded through his upper body gave credence to his nickname. He looked every inch the hunter he was. “He did what?”

  “Oh!” I laughed, but there was nothing happy about it. It was bitter and sarcastic. “Your precious godfather didn't tell you that, did he? Your beloved boss didn't tell you that he got himself screwed up with the wrong family and sold me to cover his debt.”

  He didn't move... still. He was like a statue, although I was sure his emotions were all inside. Like an inferno ready to explode. It was unnatural for a human being to be so controlled.

  Was he even human anymore?

  I didn't know. As I looked at him, looking exactly like a predator ready to strike for the kill, I realized this Hunter really wasn't my Hunter. He was a stranger, someone I should know but would probably never know in reality. The scars on his knuckles proved how dangerous he was, the callouses on his palms showed he wasn't afraid to get dirty in a fight.

  Was there a real heart under there? I'd just seen a glimpse of it, I was sure, but was it a flash of feelings from the past or real emotion?

  He didn't look human. It didn't look like there was a single scrap of humanity left inside his strong body.

  He looked like he'd sold his soul to the devil.

  Chapter Four – Hunter

  Rage. It was everything.

  I was trained to be unfeeling. To be permanently numb. There was no emotion in my job.

  I was an assassin. Silent. Deadly.

  If I felt anything, everything would go wrong. You couldn't kill if you cared. You couldn't take someone's life if you cared about the pain you were causing.

  It's why Adriana was standing in front of me instead of lying on the floor in a pool of blood.

  And fuck. She was standing there. A woman. A fucking woman. Tall, toned, more beautiful than I could ever remember her being, and in my eyes, she'd always been beautiful. Now, she was breathtaking. I didn't know if it was the way her dark brown hair tumbled around her shoulders or the way her large, sapphire blue eyes blinked at me from behind long, dark eyelashes. Maybe it was the way her soft lips drew together.

  Maybe it was because she tasted like coca-cola and candy.

  Maybe it was just because she was Adriana and no one else would ever come close to her.

  She'd taken me from killer to victim in seconds. The second she looked into my eyes in the mirror and my name fell from her lips, I knew the true assassin here was her. This tiny, fearless woman who held a gun to her head because she knew it was her or me.

  And now I knew. Now I knew why she disappeared. Why Enzio faked her and Alexandria's death. He could never admit what he'd done to the family or he'd be overthrown. Probably killed.

  I wanted to kill him now.

  I wanted to torture him for every day he'd forced her to be away. I wanted to slice every second's worth of pain I'd felt into his fucking sick skin until he had some kind of idea what he'd done.

  I wanted to kill him slowly. So. Slowly.

  I was vibrating with anger. I knew it. It took every ounce of strength I owned to keep it inside my body, to stop it running away and escaping. She didn't need to see the kind of monster I was deep inside.

  She was already looking at me as though I was a stranger... Like she was scared of me.


  “Don't,” I managed to get out without shouting. “Don't look at me like you fear me.”

  Adriana swallowed hard and tightened her arms around her waist. “I don't,” she lied.

  “You can't lie to me. You know it.”

  “I couldn't,” she corrected me, her bright eyes finding mine. “Once upon a time. But this isn't a fucking fairytale, Hunter. I don't know who you are anymore.”

  “You don't want to know who I am,” I told her honestly. “You won't like it.”

  “That's the problem.” She paused, then reached up and pushed some stray hairs from her eye. “I do want to know who you are. I want to know how you changed so much that you could hold a gun to my temple.”

  Disgust shot through my body.

  Fuck.

  I took a few steps back and sat on the sofa, next to the gun I'd brought in. That fucking gun. It was tainted. By her.

  The worst part about that gun is that it may have killed her if she hadn't said my name.

  If she hadn't looked into my eyes and said my name, I may have pulled that trigger.

  I leaned forward, my elbows on my knees, and dove my fingers into my hair. Her eyes were hovering hesitantly on me, but I couldn't look at her. For the fucking first time in my life, I didn't want to look at her. I didn't want to see her opinion of me reflected back in her gaze. I didn't want to see the disgust and horror she undoubtedly felt.

  “You're his assassin, aren't you?” she asked me softly, moving closer to me.

  Only she could ask that and come closer.

  I answered with a sharp nod.

  “How long? Since you were eighteen?”

  Another nod. Seven years. Seven damn years I'd been killing for him. Seven years I'd been an unfeeling human being, cold and heartless.

  I had nothing to feel for, after all. I thought she was dead. Growing up in the mafia wasn't exactly a bright and sunny existence, but Adriana was that for me. She was the bright spot because she was untouchable to anyone.

  Except apparently her father.

  Just the thought of him made my fists clench in my hair.

  “How many people has he made you kill?”

  The question shocked me and I jerked my head up. Our eyes met instantly. “You don't want me to answer that question, principessa.”

  “Don't call me that,” she whispered. “I'm not a princess, Hunter. Not anymore.”

  “Your blood says differently. You know that as well as I do.”

  “You expect me to accept what my blood tells me when you won't accept yours?” She wasn't whispering now. “If I didn't want you to answer the question, I wouldn't have asked it. You're a killer. You always have been.”

  “And you're scared of me. Telling you how many people's blood coats my hands isn't going to help that.”

  “I'm not afraid of you. You forget who gave you your name.”

  “Yeah, you called me Hunter right after I hit a raccoon with a frying pan and killed it, all because it wanted your bacon sandwich. How manly.”

  “You forgot to take the egg out of the pan, too. Its friend had that.” She smiled and looked down, tucking hair behind her ear again.

  The look on her face made me smile. I couldn't help it. I could still remember how she'd laughed, her nine year old giggles echoing through the backyard as I had to dispose of it. I'd kicked it into the fire pit and set it alight an hour later.

  It was so easy then. When that was the worst thing I'd ever done in my life.

  “Why did you come here?” Adriana looked up and into my eyes. Her smile was gone, and her blue eyes were sad. “Were you really going to do it?”

  “I don't know,” I admitted. “I thought so. But then...”

  “Then I made the mistake of talking.”

  “Yes. Except it wasn't a mistake. The mistake was thinking I could kill you.”

  “Well... That's good. I suppose.” She sat back on the sofa and hugged her knees to her chest. She rested her chin on her knees and looked down at her feet. “What happens now? If it's you or me?”

  I shrugged and turned away from her, finally dropping my hands from my hair. I didn't want to kill her, but I didn't want to fucking die either.

  “How long do you have?” she asked.

  “Three days.”

  “Including today?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you have two days.”

  “All right, all right.” I glanced back at her in enough time to see her lips twitch into the tiniest of smiles. “I have two days to convince your father you're dead and hide you again.”

  She sighed and picked up the remote control. “What you have is not long to get out of here before Darien gets home from work and tries to resolve the 'me or you' problem.”

  “I'm not worried about Darien.” That was a lie. I learned everything I knew from him. He was Enzio's assassin when I was nothing more than a kid in target practice. In fact, he wasn't even Enzio's. He was Alexandria's.

  “Then you're a fool,” is all Adriana said before she picked up the untouched pizza and carried it out of the room.

  I decided not to follow her. Nothing good could come of that. She was torn. I could see it in her eyes. One minute she trusted me, then the next she looked at me as though I'd pounce on the gun next to me and do what I came here to do in the first place.

  I didn't blame her.

  I didn't trust me, either.

  And I knew that Darien sure as hell wouldn't trust me when he got here, but I was reluctant to leave her. Although I was one hundred percent sure I was here alone, you never knew. I knew I had to check in with Enzio tonight or he'd send someone to make sure I was doing my job.

  I had to come up with a story that could buy me time. Time to think of something that could keep Adriana safe.

  Ironic.

  I'd come with the intention to kill her, but now all I could think of was getting her far away from everyone who wanted to do that.

  Even if it meant she was away from me.

  Something deep inside me clenched at that thought. I was a fucking fool to think I could come in here, hurt her, and then walk away from her. Hadn't I been missing her for ten years? Wouldn't I have done everything in my damn power to find her if I knew she was alive?

  Yes, and yes. I did, and I would've.

  No question.

  “You're still here.”

  I turned my head toward the doorway. Adriana was leaning against it, her fingers wrapped around the frame.

  “Why are you still here? Darien will kill you if he comes back and you're here. The gun won't stop him. He'd probably use it.”

  I shrugged a shoulder. “I'd deserve anything he did to me.”

  “Yet there's no apology for almost trying to kill me.”

  “Do you want an apology?”

  “Not really. You were just trying to do your job. Shame you're pretty shit at it.” Now it was her turn to shrug.

  I cracked a smirk. “Yeah. I'm awful. That's why my hands look like they went ten rounds with a wood-chipper.”

  “You sound proud of that.”

  “Not really, but I've got fuck all else to be proud of, Addy.”

  “Adriana,” she repeated. “You don't get to call me Addy.” Her phone rang in her hand as she finished speaking, and she glanced at the screen. “I have to take this. If you've got any brain cells, you'll be gone when I get back.” She swiped her finger across the screen and lifted the phone to her ear. “Now what, Pontarelli?” she answered, leaving the room.

  My jaw tightened. Pontarelli. Angelo or Gaige? That was what I wanted to know, although I had no damn right to. It was none of my business what kind of relationship she had with the Pontarelli family, although it did confirm what Enzio thought.

  They'd been protecting her and Alexandria.

  He could keep thinking it. I had no plans to confirm it and put her in further danger.

  She was lucky he sent me to kill her.

  Still, though... Angelo and Gaige. I hated fucking
both of them. Angelo had a chip on his shoulder the size of North America, and Gaige barely gave a fuck about the family business because he had no responsibility.

  Fuck, I sounded bitter even to myself.

  Mostly because one of those pezzo di merdas had known her and had her for the last ten years, when I hadn't. When I couldn't even fucking try.

  A door opened and closed from somewhere in the house, and I dropped my head forward into my hands again. Adriana was right. I needed to leave and think about what to do. I needed to leave and stop feeling so fucking much for her when she clearly couldn't stand to be around me.

  “What the fuck do you think you're doing in my house?”

  My head snapped up at the sound of Darien's voice. I guessed it was too late to leave now.

  He didn't give me a chance to respond. He grabbed the collar of my shirt and pulled me to my feet and spun me. My back slammed into the wall so harshly the collision almost winded me, and I took a big, deep breath to try and counteract the movement.

  Darien's hand moved from my collar and closed around my throat. “What. The. Fuck. Are. You. Doing. Here?”

  I couldn't respond because he tightened his grasp on me.

  “Oh for the love of God, Dar, put him down.” Adriana strolled back into the room and perched on the arm of the sofa.

  Darien turned around to look at her, easing his grip on me slightly. “You let him in?”

  “Not so much 'let' him. He found his way in. Kinda like Rossi does when he wants food.”

  Rossi?

  He slid his gaze back to me, his dark eyes narrowing into slits. “And there's a gun on my motherfucking sofa, why?”

  “He was going to kill me, but decided not to.”

  “Thanks,” I rasped through Darien's grip.

  “You're welcome.” She grinned. “Darien, let him go. He can't breathe.”

  He paused for a moment, still staring at me. “That isn't a convincing reason to let the little bastard go.”

  “Darien... I'm alive. Let him go. Don't make me pull the princess card.”

  Oh, I got it. She was a princess when she fucking wanted to be.

  Darien released me and shoved me toward the chair he just dragged me from. “Sit the fuck down. Now.”