Hunter

by Blaire Drake

Massimo slaps her cheek and clamps his hand over her mouth.

  “Hunter?”

  I press my gun into Samuel's head. “Where is it, Samuel? Her mouth, cunt, or ass? Your choice. I'm sure Ant and Mass can take care of her for you.” He doesn't respond, so I push the gun against him harder. Blood is pooling beneath his cheek. “Fine. Their choice.” I nod toward them, and Antonio grins sadistically as he moves down her body.

  “Get ready, bella signora,” he says, his grin only widening. “I'm gonna tear your little ass up good.”

  “Hunter!”

  I jolted awake, sweat covering my skin. The darkness surrounded me, suffocating me, and I rolled out of the bed. I hit the floor before I could steady myself, but I got up quickly. The first thing I felt was fabric, so I tugged, and it turned out I was touching the drapes.

  My heart thundered against my ribs. The memory was still so fresh in my mind, so I ripped the curtains open. The bedroom faced the strip, and judging by the way it lit up the sky, it was still the middle of the night.

  I leaned against the windowsill and dropped my head down. The lights were harsh and bright, but they helped. Every second they glowed, the memory receded back into the depths of my mind.

  I couldn't remember the last time I'd had a nightmare.

  “Carlo?” The concern in her voice cut through the darkness behind me.

  “I'm okay,” I reassured her. “Can you switch on the light?”

  “Sure.” The sheets rustled as she moved and clicked on the light.

  The soft orange glow spread through the room. Not enough to completely banish the darkness, but enough to remind me of the light.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I'm fine,” I lied. “Where's the bathroom up here?”

  “There's an en-suite... the door next to the dresser.”

  “Thanks.” I pushed away from the window and looked to the side. The door next to the dresser was ajar, so I walked in, pulling the cord for the light as I did. The small room flooded with light, and I closed the door behind me and leaned against it.

  My body was slicked with sweat despite the fact I was only wearing my boxers, and my legs shook as I struggled to keep myself standing.

  It lingered.

  God, the memory lingered.

  I rubbed my temples in an effort to push it out of my mind. I didn't want to think about it anymore. I didn't want to remember it.

  I took a deep breath and pushed off the door. I looked at myself in the mirror as I bent over the sink and reached for the white towel hanging on the wall. It was soft as I wiped it down my face. I dropped it into the sink and noticed the tiny spot of blood soaking into it, so looked into the mirror.

  A trail of red slowly dripped out of my left nostril and down onto my top lip. I wiped at it with the back of my hand before grabbing the towel again and holding it to my nose.

  I rolled my shoulders as I tried to stem the light flow of blood and opened the bathroom door. Adriana was sitting in the bed wearing her bra, the covers pooled at her waist, and she had her hair in her favorite braid over her shoulder.

  Light gray shadows decorated the skin under her eyes, and she looked at me with concern etched into her expression. “Hunter, you're covered in blood.”

  I pulled the towel to the side and looked down at myself. 'Covered' was a slight exaggeration—all right, a big one. There was blood on my hands, but that was it.

  “So is the bed.” She frowned, getting up. “Is your nose bleeding?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. Lil' bit.”

  “Lil' bit?” she mocked. “Are you fucking kidding me? You look like you pissed out blood all over the bed. Jesus. Sit down and I'll change the sheets.” She slid out from beneath the covers and disappeared before I could protest.

  I perched on the edge of the window and tilted my head back.

  “What are you doing? No, no, no. Head forward, you idiota.” Adriana dropped the clean sheets onto the floor and cupped my cheeks. Her soft palms warmed my skin, and she pulled my face down so I was looking at the floor. “Like this, otherwise the blood clogs at the top of your nose. Don't move, okay?”

  “Like I have a choice.” The towel muffled my words, but I was pretty sure she heard me, if her quiet scoff was anything to go by.

  I closed my eyes as she busied herself changing the bed sheets. I knew better than to ask if she wanted help. She'd already half-yelled at me for sitting wrong with a bleeding nose, so fuck only knew what would happen if I spoke again.

  I pulled the towel away and replaced it for a few seconds. When I looked again, it was clean, so I sat up just in time to see her carrying the bundle of dirty sheets out of the room. Her ass shook in her plain white, cotton panties, as she walked across the hall and down the stairs.

  I sighed when she disappeared from view, and then I sighed again when I heard the faint opening and closing of the washing machine. Only a woman would wash sheets in the middle of the night.

  I scratched beneath my nose, careful not to nudge it in case it'd bleed again, and dropped the towel on the floor in front of me. Why was she washing the sheets at—whatever the hell time it was?

  “Hey.” She appeared in the doorway with that as her only introduction. “Are you done with the towel? I just remembered you were using it.”

  I blinked at her. “Yeah.”

  “Well... Can I have it?” She held an arm out impatiently.

  “Uh... sure. Here you go.” I picked it up, rolled it into a ball, and threw it at her.

  “Thanks!” She sounded much happier as she caught it and went to turn.

  “Why are you washing them?”

  She looked over her shoulder, her dark eyebrows dipping together. “Because the blood will stain the fabric if I don't put them on a hot cycle while it's still wet.”

  Well, obviously. Let's wash them and not buy new ones, although that's the easy option.

  Adriana ran back downstairs on her tiptoes, still wearing nothing but her underwear, and I shook my head. Women.

  I went back into the bathroom when the blood on my hand caught my eye. It was starting to dry and go flaky, so I ran the tap until it was warm and then put my hand under the flow of water.

  “Fuck!” My hand stung instantly. I snatched it back and killed the water as I realized the blood wasn't from my nose—but from the cut across my knuckle. “Shit!” I pulled some toilet paper from the roll and dabbed at it, but it disintegrated within seconds. I tugged off several more squares until my hand was dry and I could put a ball of it on the cut without it falling apart.

  How the fuck did I cut my hand?

  “What are you—Jesus Christ, Hunter. You're still bleeding!” Adriana sighed hopelessly and opened the cupboard above the sink after batting me away. She pulled out a small black bag then shoved me into the bedroom. “Sit on the edge of the bed.”

  “I'm fine.”

  “I said sit on the edge of the bed.”

  “Addy, I'm fine.”

  “Damn it, Carlo! I said sit on the bed!” Her voice cracked at the end of the sentence, and when I looked up at her, her normally bright eyes were dull, and she looked like she was holding back some serious emotion.

  I sat on the edge of the bed.

  “Thank you,” she said softly, climbing up next to me. She unzipped the bag and emptied the contents of it on the bed. “Can I see your hand?”

  “It's just a scratch.”

  “Let me see your hand,” she ground out, holding one of hers out.

  I took a deep breath and held it out to her.

  “Thank you. Again.” She lifted the tissue and peeked under. “Wow. You don't do anything halfway,” she muttered.

  I decided not to respond. It was probably the smart choice—she was already busy ripping open packet and cutting up strips of gauze.

  “Okay, here.” She took my hand and laid it on her knee. “This might hurt a little.” She swabbed a cotton ball with a small bottle of liquid, pulled away the tissue, then wiped.

 
I hissed in a breath as whatever was on the ball stung like fuck.

  “Sorry.” She winced as she dabbed around the cut with a small piece of cloth. Ten seconds later, she had a dressing taped into my knuckle. “Try not to move it too much. It'll be awkward to heal otherwise. Only you could literally slice your knuckle open.” She refilled the first aid kit and carried it, along with the dressing wrappers, into the bathroom.

  “Thanks.” I looked down at the off-white tape stretching across my knuckles and along the lower part of my finger.

  “You're welcome.” She came back into the room, tucked hair behind her ear, and paused in front of the curtains. “Can I shut these?”

  “I... yeah. Sure.”

  “I can leave them open if you'd rather.”

  “It's okay. It's a little off-putting.”

  “Okay.” She shut them and then climbed into bed. “Does it hurt? Your hand,” she added when I frowned.

  “Oh. No, not really. Only when you touch it with vile shit.” I glanced down at it. “I've had worse. How did it happen?”

  Between the window and pulling the fresh covers up to her waist, Adriana's hair had worked itself loose from behind her ear. She pushed it back and looked between my hand and my face. She finally settled on my eyes. “You don't know?”

  “No. You woke me up, scared the shit out of me, and then I was bleeding.”

  “Oh.” She paused, biting her lower lip. “I think you were having a nightmare, Hunter. You were tossing and turning and muttering a lot. You looked... I don't know. Distressed? Then you sort of hit yourself in the face, and then you slammed your hand into the lamp on the nightstand and knocked it over. That's when you cut yourself, I guess. The edge of the base is sharp.”

  I turned to the nightstand. She was right—the lamp was on its side, and the corner of the base had a wipe of blood.

  “You hit it so hard you actually knocked the bulb out.” Her lips twitched, but I could see her worry. “I woke you up after that. I didn't want you to really hurt yourself.” Or me.

  She didn't say it, but I knew she was thinking it.

  The worst part was that I couldn't reassure her that I wouldn't have, and she knew it.

  I could tell her right now that I would never hurt her, but in my sleep? In a nightmare? I didn't know. You heard crazy shit now and then about people doing dumb stuff in their sleep—apparently I had the potential to be one of those lunatics.

  “Should I have left you?”

  “No.” I brushed my thumb over her cheek, and she turned into my hand. “No, you did the right thing. Sorry if I scared you. It happens sometimes.”

  “I wasn't scared. Just worried for you.” She touched her hand to mine before giving me a small smile and lying back down. She tugged the sheets over herself and looked up at me. “Are you ready to go back to sleep or do you want to stay up a while?”

  “Sleep is okay. You're tired.” I lay back down with her and patted my shoulder. I felt my muscles tense as she clicked off the lamp, using my side to steady her.

  “Hunter?”

  “You tickled me. That's all,” I lied smoothly.

  “Yeah, whatever.” She rolled back toward the edge of the bed and put the light back on. I opened my mouth to speak when she said, “Don't fucking argue with me, Carlo,” and pressed a finger to my mouth before snuggling into my side.

  I exhaled slowly and held her tightly. The nightmare was now nothing but a vague wisp of recollection, so I closed my eyes and focused on something else.

  Like the fact my hand was starting to hurt.

  Fucking hell.

  ***

  Sunlight streamed through a gap in the curtains. I squinted and threw my arm over my eyes when I rolled into it. Clearly washing sheets was something Adriana could do at one in the morning, but closing curtains properly? No.

  You'd think she'd have noticed considering the view.

  She was lying next to me now, on her side, facing me. Her legs were intertwined with mine, and one of her tiny, soft hands was resting against my stomach. Several strands of her dark hair fell over her face, so I reached forward and gently pushed it out of her eyes. She sniffed, but she didn't wake up.

  At the risk of feeling like a bit of a creep, I watched her sleep.

  It was strange—watching someone as they gave into a necessary human desire. She was so vulnerable right now. With her eyes closed, her long lashes touching her cheeks, and her lips slightly parted. Anyone could come in here and do anything to her without a second thought. She was completely and utterly vulnerable—raw, almost.

  She was also completely gorgeous.

  I trailed my fingertips down the side of her face, letting them fall naturally as the swooping line of her jaw gave way to the soft curve of her neck. She didn't move as I did this. I felt strange. It all felt strange, but in this moment, when she was asleep, just a girl, and I was lying next to her, just a guy...

  We were almost normal.

  She wasn't a mafia princess, determined to kill her father and reclaim the biggest family in the country. I wasn't the assassin for that family, ready to do it for her, to give her everything she wanted.

  She was just a girl. I was just a guy.

  I guessed that if you stripped away all the bullshit, that's all we were. A boy and a girl thrust into a pretty unfortunate situation.

  And she was still everything to me. Unhealthily so, possibly, but when I looked into her eyes, life meant something again. It wasn't just a means to an end, cut and dry, born-live-die. It was something that could be lived and enjoyed and cherished.

  She was my light. There was never any doubt and there never would be.

  Adriana Romano was the North star of the darkness of my soul.

  I leaned forward and kissed her forehead. Her eyes twitched, and I saw the tiny twitch of her lips as I pulled away.

  She yawned and stretched out, her nails just grazing across my skin. When she was done stretching, she shuddered and met my eyes. She smiled. “Morning. Did you sleep better?”

  “I didn't really sleep much more,” I admitted. I never did. It was always in and out, more tossing and turning than anything else. The only reason I didn't thrash around like normal was because no matter how uncomfortable I was, I knew she was sound asleep and comfy.

  “We need to get some breakfast,” she said in a sleep-laden, husky voice. She yawned again, into her hand. “Excuse me. We also need some more clothes from somewhere. And to get across the country easily.”

  “By easily, do you mean secretly?”

  “I... yes. Can we do it?”

  “We'd have to drive. I have no doubt that your father will have eyes in every airport in the city looking for us. We also need cash, we'd have to stop...” My mind spun uncontrollably trying to put together a plan.

  “I have cash,” she said, almost excitedly, sitting up. “It's in the bag. Mamma always kept a couple thousand in the safe for this reason.”

  I was beginning to think that Alexandria Romano was able to see into the future.

  “Okay, well, that's a start.” I sat up with her. “Let's get dressed and go into Vegas to get food.”

  She bit her lower lip. “I have an idea, but it might be risky.”

  “Don't even go there,” I replied, knowing instantly what she was gonna say. “There's no 'might' about it, Addy. Going to the Gardarellis is definitely risky.”

  “I know...” She slumped. “But they might be able to help us. Isn't it worth the risk?”

  “Let's see.” I got out of the bed and looked at her. “Make our way to New York quietly in a car no one knows exists, or go to the Gardarellis and risk being shot on sight.”

  Not to mention there was a slim chance the Gardarellis weren't my biggest fans.

  “What did you do to them?” She groaned, dropping her face into one of her hands. She peered at me from the side. “Come on, Hunter. I know you did something. I'm not stupid.”

  “Well.” I shuffled backward before darting into the
bathroom and shutting the door.

  “Hunter!” she yelled. A second later, she started hitting the door. “What did you do?! Hunterrrrr!”

  I peed quickly while she pounded her fists against the door, washed my hands, and opened the door. She was standing in front of it with her hands on her panty-clad hips, her eyes narrowed. “Can't a man pee in peace now?” I asked her, holding out my hands.

  “When you're trying to escape the wrath of a woman? Never.”

  “Wrath, eh? You call that wrath?”

  “I'm annoyed you're avoiding the question.”

  “Shooting through the door is 'wrath.' Threatening my balls with a knuckle duster is 'wrath.' Punching the door is a three year old tantrum.”

  She gasped. “You did not just call me a three year old!”

  “You're right—I didn't. I said your behavior was a three year old's.”

  “Hunter!”

  “Adriana!”

  She clamped her mouth shut and glared at me. I restrained the urge to laugh at her fake anger. She looked hilarious when she was trying to be mad at me.

  I grabbed her waist and scooped her up. She was so shocked she screamed and grabbed my shoulders, and I threw her on the bed. Her laugh rang out through the room as she fell backward, and she'd barely dropped when she reached up, wrapped her legs around my waist, and pulled me with her.

  I held my hands out so I didn't crush her, but she cupped my face and guided it down to hers. Next thing I knew, our lips were pressed together and warmth was spreading through my body. I relaxed into the gentle kiss, reveling in every second her dry yet still soft lips were against mine.

  She tasted of nothing. Fresh air, maybe, and sleep... Peace.

  She tasted like peace.

  I drank it in. Took every second and every breath of it she was willing to give me.

  “So what did you do?” she asked, still holding my face. She tightened her legs around me as if to say “I've got you now.”

  “There's a very slim chance I may have slept with Isabella Gardarelli and not called her the next day.”

  Her lips flattened into a thin line. “Did you do the panty-tie thing with her?”

  My eyes widened. “No, shit. I mean, no. She was a virgin.”