by Lexi Hart
Hunter’s eyes pop, Bobby’s men stare at their feet, and I know I just crossed a line when even Frank with the knife, gives me a pitying look.
Bobby’s face screws into a hideous scowl. My stomach starts to twist into knots, palms dampening as the seconds tick by.
I’m fully anticipating it when he slaps me hard enough to make my eyes water.
Hunter stiffens, and his lips press tightly together. But he keeps quiet as I rub at my burning cheek. In a rush of angry air, Bobby pivots and turns his glare on Hunter who shrugs lazily. “She’s right. Your father wouldn’t have the stones to climb up and see for himself.”
Bobby’s jaw works and turns to look at the others, all standing looking awkwardly out of place in suits and shiny shoes. “Follow, but not too close.”
Relief swims through my exhausted and battered body. It’s obvious Bobby’s pride isn’t going to let him back down. He’s so desperate not to be like his father; he’s willing to hike in what must be a thousand-dollar suit.
Hunter edges closer and takes my hand, my fingers curl into his, strengthening me a little as he gestures to Bobby. “Try to keep up.”
I try to smile at Bobby in the hopes he won’t see me as a threat, but his expression stays hard as we start to climb. We make for the oddest tramping party; I can only imagine what anyone would think if they came across us right now.
Given the way the men behind us are huffing and puffing as we traverse the mountainside, they aren’t used to this kind of physical exertion.
I sneak a look behind me. Bobby’s cheeks are growing redder, but he’s in better shape than his men, Frank is hanging back at the rear, looking dangerously close to having a heart attack as he struggles to keep up with the blistering pace Hunter is setting.
I have to tug on Hunter’s hand so I can catch my own breath. He turns slightly, and eyes me, then slowly winks as if everything is going to be okay. As if he has everything under control.
I open my mouth to ask where he’s taking us when the slightest movement coming from behind the trees ahead makes me pause.
I have just enough time to register the sound of a gun cocking before Hunter grabs me and we crash to the ground.
HUNTER
There wasn’t ever going to be any other option. Not with these assholes. Death. Real death was always going to be the only solution.
I can feel Natalie’s heart thumping against mine as I press her to the ground. She’s squirming, but I’m not about to let her get up. Not until I know we’re in the clear. I keep my head down and check to see what Bobby is doing.
He’s cowering behind a tree, breath still ragged, looking wild, gun in hand as his eyes meet mine.
Two of his men are dead. Too distracted by the blistering pace I set, unaccustomed to hiking and the environment, I had them at a major disadvantage.
The butcher, Bobby’s oldest and most loyal man, is an ugly shade of purple, but he’s firing back.
I launch myself at Bobby before he has a chance to squeeze the trigger. I tackle him around the middle sending his gun flying as I smash my fists into his face. He stands no chance against me, and with every bone shattering punch I land, I pay him back for double-crossing me.
When he’s wheezing through blood-soaked teeth, I haul him up by his shirt front and slam him into the tree trunk. “This is for putting your hands on my woman,” I smack him hard so his neck snaps back.
He groans, blood spilling down his front as I hear Jack shout the all clear from behind me. Bobby’s head is lolling about, eyes unfocused as I drag him away from the tree.
Natalie is staring at me from where’s she’s crawled, arms wrapped around a tree trunk, wide eyes, pale and looking like she’s about to throw up.
I can’t look at her as I haul Bobby towards where Jack is standing, rifle now over his shoulder, gun in his hand, expression hard as he looks at what’s left of Bobby.
Jack’s voice is level when he looks me in the eye. “You’ve got too much blood on your hands already, boy.”
My stomach twists but I set my jaw and make sure Natalie doesn’t hear my reply. “He stole my life and would have taken hers.”
Jack nods slowly, understanding in his eyes as he places his 44 in my palm.
Bobby seems to wake up enough to understand what’s about to happen. He struggles in my grip, pleading with me, whining pathetically for mercy I know he’d not give if the circumstances were reversed.
Without looking at Natalie, I drag Bobby further up the path, knowing what I’m about to do and hating myself.
But for Natalie. For Grace. For us all to have a chance at a normal life. I need to do this.
I don’t give him time to react, just squeeze the trigger against his head and watch him drop like a stone.
I close my eyes, listening to the bird song, the faint sound of the water running, and for the first time in a long time, I start to think, maybe, just maybe, this can be over.
Chapter 15.
Natalie
Jack is creeping towards me, a concerned look on his face, but I can’t speak, let alone ask him all the questions I want to.
Falcone’s men lie dead on the ground, victims of what I can now see was a pre-arranged ambush.
Hunter pulverized Bobby Falcone and then dragged him away further up the track. I didn’t need to hear the gunshot to know what he planned.
He lied to me. Again. Out of misplaced protection or something darker, I really don’t know, and I don’t think I want to know.
I stare down at my hands and try to think.
Hunter is a murderer. A violent criminal. And I was stupid enough to let myself get involved with him. I trusted him.
Jack crouches alongside me, his wrinkled brow knotted as he shoulders the rifle I know he used to shoot Bobby Falcone’s men. “Don’t condemn him. Falcone wasn’t ever going to stop looking. Even if he’d gotten what he wanted, he’d have still killed Hunter and then you.”
It doesn’t make sitting amongst corpses any easier to stomach. Even if it’s the truth, I can’t just forget what happened here. What I know Hunter is capable of. What he did for my sake.
I can’t condemn him, but I can’t condone this either. I lean my head against the rough bark of the tree as Jack sniffs. “You need to get out of here. I got a call to make.”
I swallow, looking him dead in the eye. “Call who?” I croak.
He grins, showing gaps when his teeth are missing. “Gotta put a call in that there’s been trespassers on my land again. After the last two reports I put in and with the fire, I’m perfectly within my rights to shoot first and ask questions later.”
I rock back on my heels and run my hands over my face, rubbing at my eyes in the hopes some of this hellish day will rub off. “You planned this? With Hunter?”
He nods slowly. “I owed him. Hunter saved my life. I fell off my roof. Broke me damn leg. He found me and nursed me back to health even though it took him two months and I was a grumpy old coot.”
He cackles a laugh. “Won’t let me get back on the roof now. Fusses like an old mother hen, he does.”
I tilt my head, unable to reconcile what Jack is telling me with the man I just saw break a man’s face.
Jack carries on. “Anyway, we got to talking one night, and he told me about his troubles and why he was up here. I insisted on helping if and when the time came.”
He pulls himself to standing, knees groaning as Hunter appears, minus Bobby Falcone. My stomach tightens. Cold sweeps through me as Hunter doesn’t seem to be able to meet my eye. He hands Jack back his weapon. “Not bad for an old man.”
Jack barks a laugh. “Yeah, fuck you, Hunter. I’ve forgotten more about shooting than you’ll ever know.”
I stare, unblinking as they shake hands as if this is completely normal behavior. As if killing mobsters is just the run of the mill sort of stuff.
Jack nods in my direction and places a hand on my shoulder. “Aint a bad thing, to be ridding the world of such men. Give m
y regards to your father.”
He turns on his heel and with a final nod in Hunter’s direction, starts to walk upwards, turning his back on all the carnage he caused.
When he’s disappeared from sight, lost in the thick foliage, I turn back and find Hunter’s penetrating gaze on me.
He offers a hand, and I reluctantly accept it, trying not to look at the swelling around his grazed knuckles.
With bile rising to my throat and my entire body trembling, we slowly make our way back down the track.
The light has started to fade as we reach the parking spot by the burnt-out cabin. My legs are buckling under me; yawns are escaping as fatigue, and possibly the sleeping pill finally start to overtake my body.
I’m too exhausted, too disgusted, too overwhelmed, so I just mutely let Hunter help me into the car I drove here with the man he murdered.
I rest my head against the window, feeling the cool press into my injured cheek, unsure of what is going to go wrong next.
Hunter’s voice comes from far away as I relax into the seat and stare out the windshield. “I need to get you back to the city.”
I think I hear the regret in his voice, but I’m already thinking about my own regret. Would I have done anything differently? Could I have? Should I have stayed away from him?
The answers are too complex for me to even consider right now.
I look sidelong at the man who so easily killed another person. He says he isn’t proud of what he did, but what if he doesn’t know any other way to live? Worse, what if he unleashes on me?
We’re almost at the highway when all my emotions start to dislodge, threatening to tip me even further off balance than I already am.
“You lied to me again,” I croak at him.
He barely glances at me, so intent on getting us away from what is now another crime scene. “I was trying to keep you safe. I’m sorry.”
I blink back angry tears. Humiliation burning in my middle as I think of what else he might have lied to me about.
I slump against the seat and stare out the window as black clouds hang in the sky further darkening my mood. “So am I,” I mumble.
I have nothing else to say, so I close my eyes again as the rain starts to fall from the sky. The next words out of his mouth make my eyes pop open. “I need to disappear for a while.”
I’m too tired to look at him, I just lean against the window and watch the rain spill down the windshield. “For how long?”
He exhales a long breath. “I don’t know yet. I need to check on a few things.”
I risk a quick glance and find him clenching the wheel in a white-knuckle grip, just like he did when he drove me down to the valley and started this mess.
I think back to all the things I’ve read about Hunter Sloan and everything he did. I stare at him, wondering if he’d even tell me the truth if I asked, and wondering if I really want to know all the details of his former life.
Maybe it’s for the best he leaves me alone? Maybe I need some time to sort through everything that happened? Maybe my feelings aren’t as real as I think they are?
It was just one weekend, one insanely satisfying weekend; maybe I’m over-complicating things because of the intensity of what has happened to me?
I alternate between dozing, thinking about my father, and trying to convince myself I’m okay with Hunter leaving, all the way back to my neighborhood.
When he stops the car a few blocks away from my apartment, my already spent nerves increase as he leans closer so he can run his fingers through my hair.
Shivers run down my spine as his fingers curl into the nape of my neck. “They’ll be watching your apartment. I’m sorry I can’t drop you outside.”
He kisses me softly. Too softly. As if he’s unwilling to commit to kissing me goodbye properly.
I’m so close to breaking down; only sheer will is keeping me from making a fool of myself by asking him to stay when he so obviously needs to go.
I can’t think of anything to say, so I force a smile and dig my fingernails into my palms to stop from crying.
After everything we’ve been through this can’t be the way we say goodbye. But I can’t ask him to make promises when I have no idea if we can even have a future.
I know my composure and dignity won’t hold out for much longer, so I think about all the terrible things he’s done while Hunter slips out into the inky night.
When I’m sure he’s gone, I stumble out of the vehicle and rub at my gritty eyes, longing for a shower, for sleep and to call Jemma to tell ask after Dad.
I walk on legs, barely supporting me and hope my spare key is still where I left it, hidden in the pot plant at the top of the stairs.
The pavement is suddenly flashing blue and red. I hear the familiar chirp of a police siren. Still groggy and sleep-dazed, I turn slowly, bewildered as two police cars come to a halt outside my apartment.
I half expect guns to be drawn on me, but when the first door opens, I see a familiar face in Jed’s white-haired, pot-bellied captain Jacobson.
As the other officers spill out of cars and form a line behind me, he gestures for me to get in his car. “Sorry, Natalie, I’m bringing you in for your own safety. Hunter Sloan is now a wanted man.”
I smother a groan and allow him to lead me to his patrol car. I ask the question, though I already know what his answer will be. “I’m going to need a lawyer, aren’t I?”
HUNTER
Three days later...
I shove my hands into my pockets, pouring all my energy into keeping my movements fluid and steady as I cross the road.
I’m scowling, shoulders bunched as I fight the chill that signals winter is coming to New York. I check the street for the fourth time and relax my face and try to look non-threatening as I approach the front door.
Grace isn’t going to forgive me for this. She buried me. I know what that would have done to her. I know that’s why she left. I was the only reason she stayed in Haven Springs after our folks split.
Thanks to a hacker who owed me a favor, I know she changed her last name, got a college degree, and got married. It’s taken me two days to stake out her address and figure out her schedule before working up the courage to knock on her front door.
She’s going to kill me a second time for doing this to her.
But right now, how pissed off my kid sister is going to be isn’t nearly as important as righting the numerous wrongs I’ve made over the years.
I need to be sure. I need to know I can protect Natalie. I need to know so I can try to salvage something from the wreckage I caused.
I pause at the top of the steps, hand hovering over the door, heart in my throat as I anticipate her reaction.
I curse myself for being such a coward and rap my knuckles against the wood, half hoping no one will answer.
From inside, I hear footsteps. Then a gruff male voice. The door opens to a stocky guy with a goatee, wearing sweatpants, slippers and a retro Kiss t-shirt.
His eyes lock on to me, but I’m looking at the kid hanging off his arm when he grunts at me. “Yeah?”
The boy is dark-eyed, dark-haired, with dimples so like Grace’s, I know I’m looking at my nephew. I swallow hard, trying to absorb the enormity of it all when I hear Grace’s voice.
The guy at the door turns and follows my gaze. Time seems to slow down as Grace freezes. Her eyes widen, then her body goes rigid. I’m sure the guy at the door thinks I’m a lunatic so I muster a smile as the kid squirms out of the guy's arms and runs at Grace.
She picks him up, eyes still locked on me as she hugs him tightly.
The guy shuffles closer, peering at me. “Fuck me. You’re the dead brother,” he says.
The kid gasps. “Daddy, that’s a bad word.”
Grace lets out a sob. “Oh, thank God, you see him too. I thought I was going crazy.”
She starts to cry, and as the kid asks her what’s wrong, the guy at the door ushers me inside. He narrows his eyes and lowers his
voice. “You better have a good reason for putting my wife through hell.”
He looks like he’s is about to punch me, which I fully concede I deserve. “Witness protection,” I say.
He blows out a breath, and all the tension releases in his face. “Yeah. Alright. Nice to meet you then, I’m Nick.”
I grip his hand and shake it, too many conflicting emotions running through me to notice anything much about him apart from his tattoo with a firefighter emblem on his forearm.
His grip is strong as he gives me one final, don’t fuck this up look, before he takes the kid from Grace’s arms. “I’ll be upstairs with the squirt.”
Grace stares mutely as the guy hauls the kid onto his shoulders and starts climbing the stairs.
I hear a door close and the kid squealing over the sound of my heart thumping in my ears.
The silence stretches on excruciatingly slowly as Grace just stares at me, crying quietly as I try to find something remotely relevant to say. “You married a fireman?” is all I can find.
Her head starts to shake. Then her shoulders, until her entire body is wracked by shudders as she throws her arms around me. “Where have you been, you stupid prick,” she sobs into my ear.
I wrap my arms around her and squeeze her hard. “Grace Jones?”
She starts to laugh, sounding hysterical as she sucks in mouthfuls of air. “Oh, shut up! I was stoned when I applied for the name change, and we’d been listening to her the night before. I just wanted a fresh start after you...”
She pulls back and smacks me hard on my arm. “The police called me and said you’d been killed in an armed robbery gone bad. Dad was AWOL again; Mom was in rehab. Tim and I had to do everything.”
I flinch. “I’m sorry. I was trying to keep you out of it. But you pulled your own disappearing act?”
She shrugs. “Yeah. Not even Mom and Dad know where I live.”
Her eyes mist as she looks upstairs. “Remember how we always thought marriage and kids, you know...either boring and predictable or volatile and toxic like with Mom and Dad?”