by Nina Levine
Huntsman’s fingertips brushed surprisingly gently across my broken skin, drawing an uncontrollable whimper from my lips.
Tears rushed up my throat, the burn up until this point, something I’d managed to fight off. My fingers curled in, my nails pinching at my palm as I formed tight fists. It was the only thing I could do to keep from kneeing Huntsman in the face.
“Blair,” Huntsman announced, though his eyes were glued to mine. Dark and unwavering, he held them as he spoke, “Ripley and Junior are going to take you back to your place. Pack everything you’ll need to stay awhile, then pack your mom’s stuff, too.”
“Woah, wait a sec—”
“Ripley’s old lady, Dakota, will help you get everything,” he continued, ignoring my objections but finally looking over his shoulder to my petrified teenager. “Then she’ll help you settle into a room upstairs. That okay with you?”
My baby girl’s eyes moved between him and me. Like she wasn’t exactly sure what was going on, whether she snapped a salute and said yes sir, or waited for me to object to everything he just said in a flurry of who the fuck do you think you are?
But instead of waiting, her eyes met mine, and she swallowed hard. “You’ll be safer here,” she whispered before moving her gaze to the large burly biker in the room and narrowing her eyes sternly. “You have to promise to keep her safe.”
“Blai—”
“I promise,” Huntsman cut in. “Now go get your stuff, kid, while I help your mom get patched up.”
With a kiss on my cheek, she was gone seconds later, a cheerful voice joining her out in the corridor before disappearing into silence.
Huntsman wasted no time, grabbing a bottle with a little squirty lid and crouching back down beside me. “I’m gonna clean some of the gravel out before Mouse gets here to bandage it up.” He was right. The deep grazes had stones and other foreign crap embedded in the skin. It needed to be cleaned, or I was looking at an even more painful infection. When I nodded, he started squirting the water, allowing it to run down my leg and naturally wash away the debris. Much less painful than trying to pick at it or wipe it down.
“So who was he?”
I don’t know why I thought I would be able to avoid the question. I’d just watched a piece of my past collide with my future.
Something I was promised would never happen.
Something I was promised protection from.
And yet here I was, about to say a name that I’d spent sixteen years trying to forget.
“A man I put in jail when I was a teenager,” I croaked, clearing my throat, determined to get this out loud and clear so I wouldn’t have to fucking repeat it. “A man I testified against before they put me into witness protection.”
I was waiting for him to gasp or his eyes to shoot open in shock.
But when he just continued to help clean my wounds, I knew then that I’d underestimated Huntsman again.
He already knew.
Of course, he did.
9
Huntsman
“You did good tonight, kid.”
She didn’t startle when I dropped into the chair beside her, though I noticed the way her fingers curled a little tighter around the handle of the bat—the one she was still carrying around hours after beating that asshole over the head with it.
“You’ve got a good swing.”
“He was hurting her,” she whispered finally, continuing to stare off into the darkness of the compound’s backyard. Like she was expecting this asshole to reappear at any moment so they could go for round two.
There was nothing there, though. Just a single light on down the back, letting me know Ripley was having nightmares again and was in his woodshed, trying to work through them with his hands. He’d been doing it since he was a kid. Since he walked in on his mom in the bath, dead, with blood everywhere.
It took him a long time to come to an understanding of why she didn’t love him and Drake, like other moms loved their kids. And why she felt like she had no other choice but to leave a world that was causing her so much pain.
“You won’t have to worry about him hurting her again,” I promised, finally catching Blair’s attention. “I’m going to make sure of it.”
“You’re gonna protect her, right?”
I frowned, folding my arms across my chest. “I said I would.”
“People say a lot of things.”
“I don’t say anything I don’t mean.”
I watched her process my words in her head, and things began to make sense. It had always been just her and her mom. They’d been fighting and hiding and running from the world for Blair’s entire fucking life. Not able to settle anywhere or make long term friends for fear that they might find out the truth. And right at this moment, Blair was having to process the fact that the truth was out there, and there were very real people trying to hurt the one person she thought she could trust.
“No one has ever protected her before,” she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. “Her mom ran out, her dad beat her, then there were the men.”
“You protected her,” I quipped. “You stepped in today, and you protected her.”
Her eyes fell to the bat she still had a firm grip on, and she frowned. “Did I really beat a man today?”
“You really fucking did.” I chuckled, seeing that sparkle of pride in her eyes.
“I fucking did, didn’t I.”
“You can also fucking watch that language,” I scolded, catching a handful of my brothers walking out to their rides. They were waiting for me. We had something to take care of, and I wasn’t about to fucking wait until someone died.
“You know where he is?” I questioned Junior as he fell in step with me.
He nodded. “Found him in a run-down apartment block just south.”
“Good, grab the van, we’ll follow you.”
The door clicked, the sound of rattling keys like a shot of adrenaline straight into my veins.
“Stupid… can’t even…”
“Bad day?” I questioned, stepping out of the shadows, the light from the kitchen barely grazing my face.
Paul Mathison jumped, stumbling as he spun around, falling back against the ugly mustard yellow kitchen counter. I guess at least it matched the cupboards. Maybe it was a trendy thing back in the 1930s. Back when this run down piece of shit apartment would have been in it’s prime. The carpet that ran through the place was only slightly better, though the bright red color was going to possibly save me a job later.
He tried to laugh off the surprise, tugging on his dark hoodie and steadying his feet. “Ah, Huntsman, right?” he questioned with a soft chuckle. “I’m familiar with your club.”
“Good, then I don’t have to explain why the fuck I’m here,” I threw back, stepping further into the light. “That’ll save time.”
My gun was leveled at his head within a second.
The change in his demeanor was instant.
The fear in his eyes visible, at least to me.
“Woah, woah, woah! Let’s talk about this!”
I laughed loudly, taking two large steps forward before he could even blink and throwing a punch, purposely missing with my right just to make him flinch and think he was safe before I drove my left right into his stomach, my fist finding that soft spot right in the center.
He keeled over, his nails clawing at the counter as he fought to keep on his feet while he dry-retched.
I opened the drawer nearest to me, reaching for one of the sharp knives inside. “She was just a little girl,” I spat, forcing the knife hard into the top of his hand. “Oh, sorry, does that fucking hurt?” I called over his screams of agony.
I took a step back, inhaling deeply, trying to slow my heart down and keep it at an even level though the entire situation already had me itching, my blood boiling with rage like it was trying to burn through my skin from the inside.
Paul, on the other hand, was sweating, his skin pale as he struggled to breathe through the
pain. I hadn’t driven the knife in far, just enough so he would have to pull it out himself. Which he did a moment later, tossing the offending object to the floor in disgust and horror. I could hear my brothers chuckling and moving in the shadows behind me. I could feel them, keeping close, following each step I made cautiously.
My men—my brothers—had my back.
No matter fucking what.
They also knew that if shit hit the fan, if something happened and we were caught out, they were willing to face the consequences right beside me. Those were the sacrifices we made for our family, and not only had I made a promise to protect Zoey and Blair like they were our own, but I also had no intentions of letting them leave.
Paul moved, slinking along the counter and out into the living area. He could run all he liked, but the rush of adrenaline I was suddenly feeling was like taking a shot straight into my veins, my heart rate climbing. I lurched forward before he could escape, grasping the front of his fucking shirt with my left hand and driving my right fist directly into his nose. His back hit the sliding glass door with a heavy thud, the force of my fist jerking his head back.
The crack of the glass was loud.
Tiny veins moving outward like shock waves, though the large pane managed to hold together without shattering.
“You should have gotten out of jail, got yourself a little job, and stayed the fuck away from her,” I warned him, leaning into his space. “You could have moved on with your life. But now, because you decided to come back for her, well… now you’re in my world. And here, not only am I god, but I’m also the executioner.”
I grabbed the runner above the door and leaned back, at the same time, raising my shit-kicker and driving the flat bottom of it straight into the bastard’s stomach. The glass door shattered, Paul screaming as he flew backward through the raining glass before slamming into the metal banister of the small patio.
“Grab him and throw him in the van.”
“Van?” He groaned, struggling to get to his feet, the glass slicing at his hands.
I crouched down in front of him, making sure he was looking me right in the eye as I spoke, “We’re going to take a little road trip out to the forest,” I explained gently like I was talking to a child. Because I wanted him to know exactly what was about to happen. “And you’re going to learn first-hand why I’m called Huntsman.”
His eyes shot open wide while his head shook furiously back and forth. The boys grabbed him from the ground and dragged him through the apartment screaming for help.
“Hope he can run fast.” Drake snorted while shaking his head.
“Or hide well,” Junior added.
I shrugged. “Either way doesn’t matter. I never lose.”
10
Huntsman
This was a bad fucking idea.
I hadn’t had a woman on the back of my bike since Josie was alive. And even then, a lot of the time she simply refused. But within seconds of having Zoey pressed to my fucking back, my cock was already straining at my jeans. The ride from the construction site to the house was only five fucking minutes, and I was almost sure we weren’t going to make it without me having to pull over and do something about it.
We pulled up to the curb outside the old house. I’d kept it pretty well, replacing things, making sure the paint job looked new. But as I watched Zoey climb off the back of my ride and walk toward it, her eyes wide with wonder, I couldn’t help but think this was why I’d waited so fucking long to come back to her finally.
She was why I’d waited so long.
If I was ever going to make this place home again, it needed the kind of life that I just couldn’t give it and seeing her face light up, I was suddenly starting to wonder whether Ripley was right. Whether there was something about this woman that I couldn’t fucking understand or explain if I wanted to, but that was just so goddamn perfect.
“This place is beautiful,” she whispered as we walked up the porch stairs, and I pushed the door open. She stepped in before me, her body beginning to twirl in the middle of the entranceway, her eyes focused on the two-story ceiling above us. “Whose is it? Why is it empty?”
“It’s mine.”
She jerked to a halt, almost catching her foot and landing on her ass.
I said nothing else as I walked through to the kitchen, her eager footsteps following behind me.
“And it’s been sitting here empty like this? Um… why?”
Leaning back against the kitchen counter, I folded my arms across my chest, feeling that familiar ache begin to build. “My granddad built it. My dad grew up here, I grew up here, my boys did, too,” I explained, feeling my throat tighten. “Their mom committed suicide in the upstairs bathtub when they were young. Rip found her. He’s had nightmares about it ever since.”
Her hand reached for her heart, and I saw the pain in her eyes. It was as if she could feel it seeping out of the walls and into her.
There was something so fucking different about this woman, something I was beginning to think I didn’t fucking deserve. I wasn’t a good man—I had blood on my hands, more than most men I knew. I’d taken more lives than I could count, and when it came down to it, I knew I wasn’t fucking done with them either.
How was a soul like hers, so vibrant and fierce, meant to feel anything for one as dark as mine?
“So why are we here?” she asked, moving a little closer, her head tilted in curiosity.
“Because I want my boys to raise their families here,” I answered, my eyes beginning to wander. “I want them to feel something other than pain when they step inside this house. Family is important to me, it might not seem like it sometimes because my kids can be assholes, but they are fucking everything.”
When I finally met her eyes again, it was her smile that had me shaking my head as I backed away, continuing the tour into the first bathroom.
“Don’t fucking look at me like you’ve just seen a rainbow shine out my ass,” I scolded, only making her smile grow bigger, her body propped against the doorframe. “Stop it.”
She shook her head and let out a gentle giggle. “The whole dark, brooding thing is sexy as hell, but everything you just said… far more so.”
“You’re going to tell no one.”
“I make no promises.”
I reached over and grabbed the showerhead, turning the faucet on full before turning it on her. Zoey’s screams echoed in the bathroom as I drenched her from head to toe in ice-cold water before hanging it back up on the wall. “See, look… I’m a fucking asshole.”
“I can’t believe you just did th-that,” she stammered, her teeth chattering as she grabbed the bottom of her shirt and peeled it up over her head, the fabric hitting the floor with a heavy slap. She reached for her jeans next, the fabric completely drenched.
“Don’t.”
Zoey’s fingers paused, hovering over the button. Her eyes slowly rose to look at me, her lips slightly parted. “Why?”
I took a step forward. “Because I’m already fighting to keep my fucking hands to myself right now,” I explained through gritted teeth, unable to keep my eyes off the perfect curve of her breasts as she stood in just a bra.
Though I knew the second her tongue snaked out, wetting her lips, that I wasn’t going to be able to walk away.
Not right now.
Maybe not ever.
Zoey
Huntsman moved so fast I barely got the chance to suck in a breath before my back was slammed against the wall, and his mouth was on mine.
His beard tickled at my cheeks as his tongue swept inside my mouth, controlling and demanding just like him—and I loved every damn second of it. I made quick work of the button on my jeans, thankful for his help as he yanked them down over my thighs to my knees, but the second I went to pull them down any further, his hand reached for my throat, grasping my neck and pinning me back against the wall.
“Hands up. Above your head.”
I eased my hands back, clasping them togeth
er before lifting them over my head and pressing my body hard back against the cold tile wall. The second I was stretched out in front of him, he took advantage, his hand falling from my neck to my chest and making quick work of my bra before taking my breasts in handfuls and directing the right one into his mouth. My thighs clenched, my pussy instantly beginning to throb as his tongue flicked at my nipple. He switched, moving to the other side.
I tilted my head back, squeezing my eyes shut while my mouth hung wide open, already fighting for each breath. “Fuck,” I cursed when my nipple finally popped from his mouth, and he stepped back, allowing the cold air to hit the hot little bud. The sensation making my clit pulse hard, like it was screaming for attention.
When I didn’t get any for a few moments, I opened my eyes and dropped my gaze.
Huntsman was watching me with his jeans down around his ankles and his hand on his cock, squeezing and pulling long, hard strokes.
“Bet you want to come already, don’t you?” he rasped, drawing me from my entrancement. He stepped in just slightly, his lips barely brushing mine as he pressed his hands to the tiles on either side of me and leaned in.
With his face merely inches from mine, I slowly drew my arms down, holding eye contact as I reached out and wrapped my fingers on one hand around this long, thick cock. “Mmm,” I hummed, fighting the urge to direct it between my legs and beg him to fill me.
“Put your hands on the edge of the bath.”
I shuffled toward the bath, placing my hands on the edge and leaning forward. My jeans had my legs pinned together, but Huntsman didn’t seem to mind as he crouched down behind me and swept his tongue through my pussy.
“Holy crap,” I rasped, arching my back.
He tickled my clit for a second, and I couldn’t help but lift up on my toes and press my ass back. Desperate for more.
“Ride my tongue. Go on,” he growled, pressing it hard against my clit.