The Hunt 2

by Susan Bliler

  He didn’t need to answer. Cersi fell to the side, her head smacking off the concrete as she passed out. And now what the fuck? He didn’t sign up for this.

  Blood pooled under Cersi’s slumped form and for the space of a millisecond, he considered leaving her. It wasn’t something he could do. Haddix would kill him and if Haddix didn’t, Monster would. The damn beast was clawing him up inside even now trying to urge him into stemming the crimson tide that was currently dumping from Cersi’s shoulder.

  “She shot herself,” he snarled aloud, just in case Monster had missed that part. A surge of pride tore through him and nope, Monster hadn’t missed it. Even worse, he actually liked it. Great! Just fucking great! The last thing he needed was the Monster in his middle getting attached to the most psychotic woman they’d ever met.

  “No!” he bellowed aloud, but his feet were already moving. He had Cersi up and in his arms before he could even say, “It ain’t happening, Monster. Don’t even think it!” But it was too late. Monster’s interest was already piqued.

  Chapter 4

  The first thing Cersi was aware of was pain. Before she could even open her eyes, agony tore through her and stole her breath.

  “Uhhhhhh,” she groaned as she forced her eyes open. Aside from the throbbing ache in her shoulder, her mouth was dry like she hadn’t had a glass of water in a thousand years. Blinking up at the ceiling she tried to remember what had happened when her eyes landed on him.

  Green Eyes was standing over her, eyes narrowed as he glared down at her. His mouth was slashed in an angry scowl. She almost wanted to laugh at how pissed off he looked. She probably would have if she weren’t in so much pain.

  “You’re…,” she used her parched tongue to lick her dry lips. “You’re not dead.” She tried to shove up off the bed but gasped and stilled at the searing fire that tore through her shoulder. Fuck! Why? Why had she felt compelled to shoot through herself to get to him?

  Her eyes dipped to his chest, but his shirt was clean. There was no gaping hole, no blood soaked material. He looked crisp and clean.

  A growl filled the room a moment before he snarled, “No. And you’re lucky you aren’t either.” He watched her a moment, eyes all dark and broody before he asked, “What in the fuck were you thinking?”

  Cersi shrugged and fuck! That hurt too. “Collateral damage,” she deadpanned. Her answer only seemed to piss him off more.

  “Are you fucking psychotic? No one considers themselves collateral damage.”

  Using her good arm, she shoved up to a sitting position and looked around. “Where are we?”

  The place was nice, fancy. She feigned studying the room when really she was looking for a weapon or a way out. She’d tried to kill this guy and she sure as hell wasn’t going to waste her time hoping he was above retribution.

  “A hotel downtown,” Green Eyes snarled. “And you didn’t answer me.”

  A wave of nausea from the pain overtook her and Cersi dropped back onto the bed with a groan. “No,” she breathed. “Not psychotic.” Pinching her eyes shut, she swallowed as best she could before rasping out, “Thirsty.”

  She heard movement and then an arm was sliding behind her back and lifting her to a sitting position. Eyes snapping open, she glared at Green Eyes. Her stare lost some of its venom when he used his free hand to lift a glass of water to her lips. The cool liquid was the best thing she’d ever tasted. She drained nearly the whole glass before Green Eyes pulled it back with an, “Easy, not too much too soon.”

  Funny. He sounded almost concerned.

  When he lowered her back to the mattress, she narrowed her eyes on him and shot straight to the point. “Who are you?”

  Green Eyes set the glass of water on the bedside table and stood to his full height. It was impressive. The man was a beast which was equally frightening and exciting.

  “Tyson,” he answered in a gruff tone. “Tyson BloodMoon.”

  BloodMoon? Odd, but o-kay. “Why are you following me, Tyson BloodMoon?”

  This time, his eyes narrowed. “You’re looking for your sister.”

  That’s right. The text she received came rushing back. Anger tearing through her, she accused, “And you have her!”

  He shook his head once before offering, “No. But I know who does.”

  ***

  Tyson was having a hard time keeping Monster in check around Cersi. She smelled like pain and worry. It was riling him up something fierce. Plus, they were both still pissed at how she’d shot herself just to get away from them. Guilt bit hard at the realization that maybe he’d pushed her to that extreme, but honestly, who did shit like that? Glancing at Cersi, he answered inwardly, Her. Goddamn little badass bag of trouble.

  His plan had been to…well, kidnap her really. He’d meant to snatch her up and then hole away in this luxurious penthouse suite until Haddix was done wooing Vesa, but that’s not how things went. No, Cersi had other plans and apparently, they involved a gun, bullets, and a blatant disregard for her own well being.

  Pacing away from the bed, he gave it his back as he lifted both hands and fisted his hair. His shoulders were taut with the tension that had been thrumming through him. Two days. Two goddamn days she’d been out and all the while he’d paced and worried that he’d have to report back to Haddix that he’d killed his own Phena’s sister. He’d been willing her to wake up for hours on end, and now that she was conscious, he wished she’d go back out. He hadn’t planned on what he’d do when she woke.

  “Look, we’ll get to all that. Vesa’s in good hands. She’s alright.” He glanced over his shoulder and frowned down at her. “Can’t say the same for you. What were you thinking shooting yourself?”

  She completely ignored the question and groused, “I was thinking that my sister is in danger.” She was looking around the room now though, and this time she wasn’t trying to disguise it. Swinging her legs off the bed, she groaned, “I really gotta pee.”

  Before he could get to her, she was halfway out of bed, but it was an obvious effort. Rushing to her, he slammed to a halt when she threw a hand up in front of his face.

  “I got it.”

  But she didn’t have it. Her legs started shaking right away, and when she took her first step, they nearly gave out.

  With a snarl, he had her up and in his arms before she could even suck in the breath to protest. When she finally did drag in a breath, he was surprised when she stayed silent. The look on her face said she didn’t understand why she was so weak.

  “You’ve been out for two days. Didn’t think you were gonna make it.”

  Her mouth parted slightly, but other than that there was no outward sign that she’d heard him.

  In the bathroom, he set her on her feet and reached for the button on her jeans. A loud smack filled the small space when she slapped his hands away and glared up at him.

  “Are you kidding?”

  A corner of his mouth lifted because no, he didn’t really think she was going to let him take her pants down, but it had been worth a shot.

  Cersi jammed her red-tipped pointer finger toward the door, and he strolled casually out. In the hall, he planted himself right beside the door and waited. He thought about how quick she’d thrown up her hand to ward off his help. It reminded him of how she seemed to keep herself hidden behind a giant wall. Cersi kept herself closed off, locked away. She didn’t want people getting close, he could tell that much. What he didn’t understand was why. He knew she’d grown up in foster care with Vesa, but he assumed that’d make her needier. Wouldn’t someone who’d been starved of affection seek it out? He heard the toilette flush and decided the answer to that was a resounding no. Cersi was out here hunting for Vesa all alone. She could’ve called the cops, hired a detective, or any other number of options, but she hadn’t. She’d strapped on her red high heels and went to work, putting herself directly in the path of danger.

  The door jerked open. Rolling his head on the wall, his gaze landed on Cersi, and he fe
lt something tighten in his gut. She’d found a brush and had her hair piled up on her head in a messy bun with a few wild corkscrew curls sticking out. He could smell mint from here which meant she’d brushed her teeth too.

  “I’d like to take a shower.”

  Of their own volition, his eyes slid down to her breasts before jerking back up.

  “I’m covered in dried blood,” she gritted out.

  Yeah, that. He’d had intentions of cleaning her up after he’d taken care of her wound, but he didn’t trust Monster enough to get the woman naked and clean. The memory had him clenching his jaw tight because it pissed him off that his animal was so damn feral that he couldn’t even take care of Cersi like she needed. He couldn’t even clean up an unconscious and injured woman without Monster trying to lay claim. It was humiliating just how little control he had over his beast.

  Dipping his head in a nod, he growled, “Stay here. I got your clothes.”

  Cersi’s jeep was parked in the hotel’s underground garage. He’d ransacked it after he’d plucked the lead out of her shoulder and had sewn up her wound. She didn’t have much. It looked like she’d been traveling a lot though because there was a suitcase full of clothes and girlie shit in the back while numerous fast food bags and wrappers littered the floor. He’d found her tasers under the seat. There were also a couple of knives stashed in the glove box, but aside from her suitcase, he’d left everything else in the jeep. He’d also stripped Cersi of the weapons she’d hidden on her body. Damn little Badass outfitted herself like she was a goddamn assassin.

  Suitcase in hand, he carried it effortlessly back down the hall and rapped his knuckles on the bathroom door.

  Cersi opened and poked her head out, but his eyes instantly went to the bare skin of her shoulders that was exposed.

  “A little too trusting, aren’t we?”

  She snaked a bare arm out the door and reached for her suitcase, which he pulled back just out of her reach.

  “If you wanted me dead,” her fiery eyes snapped up to his. “I would be. And if you wanted to rape me, you had two days to do it.”

  True. But still, her parading around half-naked in front of Monster wasn’t going to work.

  Thrusting her suitcase toward her, he waited until she gripped the handle before saying, “Fully clothed at all times while in my presence. Understand?”

  She smirked and made to jerk the suitcase inside, but he held firm. He needed to hear the words.

  “Understand?”

  Looking almost bored, Cersi gifted him a mutinous look. “I understand.” When he turned to leave she continued, “And don’t worry your delicate sensibilities. I have no intentions of running naked through your suite.” Her eyes slowly tracked down his body and then back up. “I know people who are gay. I respect your choice. I get it.”

  The door clicked shut before the shock of her words even wore off.

  Gay? Gay! What? Who? Him!

  Son of a motherfucking fucker, she thought he—Tyson BloodMoon—was gay?

  Half tempted to shove his way into the bathroom and prove her wrong, he stood in the hallway fuming. It took much more effort than it should have to convince Monster to stand down. Poor sucker didn’t really comprehend the idea of copulation without the intention of procreation, so he was staring at Tyson with a ‘what does that mean’ look on his face. Tyson had zero intention of trying to explain.

  Turning, he stalked angrily down the hall, hands fisted as he shook his head. Gay! He looked down at his clothes and then stopped as he passed a mirror to study himself. He didn’t look…gay…did he?

  Chapter 5

  Cersi took her time in the shower partly because it was the size of her first apartment and was absolutely exquisite, but mostly because her arm was so damn sore that it took like nine-hundred hours to wash her hair with only one hand. That pissed her off too. She’d just gotten her hair done, and now she was forced to wash it because it was caked in flaking blood and it couldn’t be helped. Sonofa… Now she’d have to make another damn trip to the salon because there was no way she’d be able to do what needed to be done to get her hair back on point with just one hand.

  Heaving a sigh, she turned her head and looked at her wound. The bullet hole in her shoulder had been stitched up nicely. She wasn’t surprised at all that the beast in the other room knew how to do stitches like a surgeon. He seemed like the kind of guy that would know how to take care of bullet wounds. He was dangerous and sexy like that.

  Yeah, too bad he’s gay.

  And of course he was. Why wouldn’t he be? Sexy as all get out, he was her exact type. Dangerous and broody but just enough gentleman in him to take care of her wound and not rape her when she was unconscious…

  Oh, good fucking Christ!

  Shaking her head, she snorted and rolled her eyes at how she’d just been giving Tyson credit for not raping her like it was an actual virtue or something.

  “And this is why you’re single,” she self-admonished.

  It took her nearly as long to dry off and wrap her hair in a towel turban as it did to get washed up. Once dressed, she sauntered out of the bathroom, ignoring the way the material of her fuzzy peach sweater tugged on her exposed stitches. The choice of top hadn’t been practical, but she looked really good in it, and for some reason she wanted Tyson to think the same. Thinking of him, she slammed to a halt when she nearly collided with where his big body was planted against the wall just outside the bathroom door.

  He turned his bright green gaze on her and asked with a worried frown to his brow, “You alright? I was just about to force my way in and check on you.”

  “Hard to do most everything with just one arm.”

  He nodded, eyes dipping to her shoulder.

  “Where’s my jeep?” she asked. The question had been eating at her the whole time she’d been showering.

  “It’s here.”

  She noted he didn’t tell her where exactly it was, but that was okay as long as it was on-site.

  “And where’s Vesa?” she prompted while he was in a giving mood.

  With a snort, he shook his head. “I told you, she’s safe. How about we worry about you right now?”

  ***

  In the sitting room, Tyson paced and tried to shake off Monster’s excitement at knowing Cersi was in the bathroom naked with warm water sluicing over her body. Christ, he was pathetic.

  When the bathroom door finally opened, Cersi stepped out dressed in another pair of hip-hugging jeans and an oversized peach sweater that looked really soft. Her feet were bare, and she’d washed all her make-up off. Her hair looked different too. It was still curly, but a little more fuzzy—isn’t that what the girls called it, maybe it was frizzy? Anyway, it was a lot more natural looking, and he instantly decided that he liked her like this better than when she was all dolled up. He doubted many people got to see her like this and that made him feel special.

  He followed her into the heart of the suite, and when she stopped to frown at him over her shoulder, he crossed to the kitchen and turned. Casually he tossed a menu on the table that stood between them. “What do you want to eat?” He was trying to play it cool, but Monster was clawing up his insides demanding they feed her. He’d heard her stomach growl at least a dozen times since she’d roused and Monster was taking it as his personal responsibility to take care of her needs, which was a bad fucking idea. Doing anything for this woman encouraged Monster to think that they had some form of claim on her when they didn’t. Just gotta get her fed and to BlackLodge, he told himself inwardly. He could do that. He could get a meal in her and tend her wound and get her to BlackLodge where she’d be someone else’s problem…couldn’t he?

  Cersi pursed her lips and did that sexy catwalk thingy across the room until her red-tipped nails settled on the menu.

  Without looking at it, her eyes lifted to his. “Lobster tail with drawn butter, garlic mashed potatoes, and steamed green beans with béarnaise.”

  His mouth ticked up in
the corner. If she thought ordering expensive food was putting a burden on him, she was wrong. He had plenty of money, certainly more than he knew what to do with. It sat in a savings account and gained interest because he didn’t need fancy shit, but if Cersi did, it was fine with him.

  Lifting the phone, he kept his eyes locked with hers the whole time he called down to the kitchen and placed their order. He got himself the exact same thing and just to prove a point, he ordered one of the most expensive bottles of white wine on the menu. When he hung up, Cersi shrugged her good shoulder.

  “Shouldn’t have popped for the wine. I don’t plan on drinking any.”

  Mimicking her, Tyson shrugged. “So don’t.”

  Her eyes glinted as she studied him and he couldn’t tell if she was annoyed or interested. Letting his nostrils flare, he scented the air but couldn’t pick up anything aside from pain and agitation.

  Annoyed it is!

  She’d been trying to hide it, but he’d noticed instantly how her shoulders tensed when she moved. The sweater she wore was tugging at her stitches.

  “Let’s get your wound bandaged while we wait.”

  Cersi hesitated only a moment before circling the dining table and crossing to where Tyson stood by the kitchen island. The first aid kit he’d brought was already open.

  As soon as she was near enough, he gripped her waist and hoisted her off her feet. Her good hand gripped his shoulder, and she gave a sharp little inhalation that had him wondering what sounds she’d make if he took other liberties. Settling her on the island, he released her and wordlessly ripped open a few packets of gauze pads, donned a pair of the smallest damn rubber gloves known to man, and began applying ointment to the raw shoulder she’d exposed by tugging at the sleeve of her sweater.

  Cersi hissed when he smeared the ointment over her stitches, and when his eyes sliced to hers, she winced. “I’m fine. It’s fine.”

  But the scent of pain was growing stronger. It pissed him off. He didn’t know how to do this. Taking care of a woman was foreign enough, but an injured woman was way out of his depth. He needed to get her to BlackLodge where she could be Haddix’s problem.