Hunter: The Auckland Kings Crime Family Trilogy Book Two: Social Rejects Syndicate

by A. J. Macey

  “Okay then, what’s the plan for the next day?” she sassed, her lips thinning as she shoved her phone back into her pocket. Straightening up fully, so I was no longer towering over her, I glanced around for the nearest spare bedroom she could take. As I was scanning, I heard her mutter under her breath, “Other than you being a total ass for no reason.”

  “At least I know how not to get cut up by my attacker,” I countered sharply. Her eyes widened, not having realized I heard her snide remark. Instead of continuing the back and forth, she smashed her lips together and crossed her arms, the motion emphasizing her chest as she nestled the injured arm beneath her breasts. Grinding my teeth, I went back to trying to decide on a room to toss her in for the night.

  In my scanning, though, I saw a few of the newer members eyeing Chloe with heated gazes and smirks. The sight irked me, and not wanting to dissect why, I snatched up her elbow and started to drag her with me toward the front door. I could feel the other Kings’ focus migrate from her to me, and as much as I wanted to ignore them, I glared over at the three, unable to stop myself. All three sets of eyes widened before their attention shifted to each other.

  “Hey!” she snapped, shoving at my hand, but I didn’t release her. “You don’t need you to tote me around like a sack of potatoes. I’m very capable of walking all on my own, even if I have to practically chase after you.” I nearly growled, but I slowed my steps, letting her lean legs catch up to me. “Can I have my arm back now?”

  “No.”

  She said nothing, but as we continued out of the building, she continued to try—and fail—to pry my hand off. It didn’t occur to me until I reached my car, she may have driven a rental.

  “Do you have a ride?” I questioned, not really wanting to have her blood on the seats of my brand-new car.

  “No, I walked from where I was exploring a few miles away,” she explained. My brows rose in surprise. I had expected her to have taken a guided tour or driven to the beaches and shops, not walk all the way here.

  “Fine, we’ll take my car, but there’s no way in hell you’re wearing that shirt,” I commanded, pointing with my free hand to the large wet spot on her shirt. The black tank concealed most of it, but I’d seen enough injuries in my life to recognize blood.

  “Uh... I’m not getting in your car without a shirt on,” she said, her eyes widening.

  Despite my best efforts, my eyes dropped to her chest, where goosebumps pebbled over the swaths of tan skin. Before she could say anything about my staring, I yanked my gaze away.

  “I have a spare you can wear. I’d rather sacrifice an old tee than risk ruining the leather in my new car,” I muttered, closing the distance to my car, not releasing her arm until we reached it. Once my car was unlocked, I opened the trunk and dug out a rumpled button-up, passing it over. She slipped it on over her tank, and I immediately stopped her.

  “Well, how else am I supposed to wear it?” she snapped, her hands fisting the material in her annoyance.

  “If you put it on over your shirt, the blood will soak through and still get on my seat. Give me the tank, and I’ll toss it before we go.” I held out my hand to emphasize my point. Two pink patches bloomed on her cheeks, and she shuffled from foot to foot.

  “Can you at least turn around?” she murmured. “If I have to take my shirt off in public, I’d like to avoid as many eyes on me as possible.”

  Sighing, I angled away. “Hurry it up,” I snapped. I heard the rustle of clothes, then a warm, sticky, wet shirt was laid in my hand. Taking that as an okay to turn back around, I looked down at her. She was focused on buttoning the bottom button on the front of my shirt she borrowed.

  She was thin, but there was a hint of definition in her stomach that guided my focus to her chest. Her perky tits were covered in a lace bralette, and the sight of the delicate pink pattern cupping the curve of her chest made my mouth go dry. She may have been a tiny little thing, but she certainly was damned attractive.

  “Hey!” she yelped when she saw me staring, turning sharply to finish buttoning the shirt. I didn’t have it in me to feel bad for seeing her that way, enjoying the sight of the blush blooming over her cheeks. Riling her up was entertaining, and if I was stuck with her for the next day, I was going to enjoy myself.

  “Done now, Short Stuff? Or are you going to continue to make a scene?” I countered in a bored tone. Her jaw ticked rhythmically, but she didn’t sass me back, to my disappointment.

  “Yes, I’m done,” she muttered, looking over and crossing her arms again. “Can I at least know where we’re going? I don’t exactly want to get into the car with a stranger.”

  “We’re going to my place,” I smirked, bracing my hand on the trunk of my car and crowding her. “Unless you want to risk the Phantoms coming to your hotel room?”

  She blanched, shaking her head. Didn’t think so. Stepping back, I stuffed her ruined shirt in the trash can a few feet away. As she shifted to get in, I noted my shirt covered her denim shorts, and my cock twitched to life at the visual of her only in that. Shoving it away, I ground my teeth and stormed over to the driver’s side door. She was a thorn in my side for twenty-four hours, then I’d never see her again.

  No reason to think with your dick, Hunter.

  I jammed the key into the ignition.

  She’ll be gone tomorrow, and that will be the end of this little babysitting gig.

  You can totally handle that.

  6

  Chloe

  The car ride was quiet, nearly stifling in the silence. The last day had been spent hiding out in the spare room at his luxury home as soon as we arrived until this morning when he came to take me to get my stuff. The tension in the car was thick, and I wasn’t sure what to say or do without risking yet another argument, even though I wanted to try. He hadn’t said much to me today—hell, he’d barely looked my way—and as much as I tried not to, the cold shoulder bothered me.

  “Uh, when’s my flight again?” is what I finally decided on for a conversation starter.

  “In a few hours, at four-fifteen,” he explained, glancing over. His gaze shifted down, taking in his shirt I still wore before returning to the road. A shiver worked through me at the attention, even though it was brief. After everything yesterday, my body had finally calmed completely on the way to his house, and it was hard to ignore how handsome he was. “Think twenty minutes will be enough time for you to pack?” he continued, cutting off my internal ramblings. “I don’t want to be at the hotel for too long.”

  “Yeah, most of my stuff is corralled in one part of the room, so it shouldn’t take me long,” I relayed, fiddling with the hem of the thin material of his shirt. There were several things I’d wanted to ask, but every time I thought I had the courage, I ended up chickening out.

  “Spit it out, Short Stuff,” he prompted after my most recent attempt. “You look like a fish when you keep opening and closing your mouth like that.”

  My lips thinned, but I didn’t refute him, knowing he was probably right. “Just wondering if after I’m home, I still need to be cautious of the Phantoms. I mean, your dad said they have people in a lot of places—”

  “They do, but I highly doubt they’ll come after you once you’re outside the city,” he reassured. “Hell, I don’t know if they’d even come after you if you stayed here.”

  Nodding, I tried to take what he said to heart, but something was still nagging at me about the entire situation. Probably just being paranoid. He pulled into the hotel parking lot, but instead of waving me to run inside while he waited, he turned off the car and climbed out.

  “What are you doing?” I questioned, wanting to groan at how silly it was.

  “What’s it look like, Short Stuff? Coming with you.” His tone was still terse, but his gaze had the tiniest spark of humor.

  Well, I guess that’s some improvement.

  Even if he’s still a cranky asshole.

  “Just figured you wouldn’t want to bother,” I murmured wi
th a shrug. As we headed inside the cool air-conditioned lobby, I automatically reached for my keycard and frowned.

  “What is it?” he questioned when I stopped walking.

  “Key card was in my purse, so I need to get a new one,” I muttered in frustration. Hopefully, they’d give it to me without an ID.

  The front desk worker eyed my t-shirt attire with a head tilt until he saw Hunter, who was clothed in a similar shirt, following behind me. Ignoring the smirk the worker tried to smother, I quickly requested a new card to get into the room.

  “Hope you have a fun day,” he stated as he passed over the new shiny card, the note in his tone not lost on me.

  Being shipped home almost a week early by a criminal who would rather be anywhere else… yeah, the very definition of fun. Hunter remained silent through the exchange, which I was thankful for. I wasn’t sure if I was up for another one of his constant prodding remarks to get a rise out of me.

  At least until we reached the elevator at the other end of the lobby.

  “Pretty sure he thought you were doing the walk of shame.”

  Grinding my teeth, I watched our warped reflections in the shiny door of the elevator. Even with our distorted images, another shiver worked down my spine as he looked at me.

  “Well, whose fault would it be I had to wear your shirt, which is clearly the size of a freaking nightgown on me and looks like I have nothing on under?” I muttered in annoyance.

  “Now that’s something I’d like to see,” he whispered.

  The words were so quiet in the bland tones of the music filling the space I wasn’t sure if I had heard him correctly. This time, instead of a shiver, a thread of heat wound through me, my mind envisioning what it would feel like to wear only his shirt. Shaking my head, I dislodged that train of thought and stepped off on my floor when we reached it, but instead of letting me lead us to the room, Hunter’s hand once again tugged on my elbow.

  “Must you always grab me when you want me to do something?” I challenged, glaring up at him.

  “Yes,” he countered sharply. “Let me make sure no one’s waiting in the room.”

  “Oh, so now you want to do the babysitting?” I sassed, hoping it would cover the stark realization. It was as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped on me, knowing I hadn’t even considered someone might be waiting.

  “I may not enjoy having to tote you around everywhere, but it’s my ass on the line with my father if anything happens to you.”

  “Guess I know why you’re shipping me off so damn quick then,” I muttered under my breath as I handed over the card. I was grouchy and knew I shouldn’t have prodded Hunter since he was on my side, unwilling or not, but it was difficult. So, as he opened the door, I took a few deep breaths in a poor attempt to level myself.

  After a few minutes waiting in the hall, Hunter leaned back out of the door to wave me inside. We didn’t talk as I joined him, but I was very aware it was just him and me in my hotel room. The thought brought me back to the statement he made in the elevator, but I forced myself to focus on grabbing my suitcase and not on the feeling of his eyes tracking me.

  Wait… I thought, eyeing the sweater I wore the other day. Did I put that there?

  “What?” he questioned when I stopped.

  “Oh, nothing,” I explained with a shake of my head. Probably where it landed when I tossed it a couple days after I’d arrived. I went about putting everything back in the hard suitcase. Despite everything that happened with the Phantoms and Inspector Philemonde, I couldn’t stop the cloud of melancholy descending over me as I packed.

  Guess this just gives me an excuse to come back.

  Well, at least, when I might not have a gang looking for me.

  Hunter

  I stayed put where I’d leaned against the hotel room desk, eyeing Chloe as she worked silently. Now that the initial irritation of being assigned to watch her had worn off, surprisingly, I enjoyed her company, but I knew in the end, shipping her back home would be the best option.

  Even if it meant only getting to imagine her in nothing but my shirt.

  She paused every so often, a crease lining her brow as she packed, but every time I asked, she’d tell me ‘nothing,’ so I eventually stopped asking and looked around the room. It was a nice place, nothing overly extravagant but not dingy. She’d be truthful when she said most of her stuff had been collected in one area of the room. From what I could see, she mostly brought shorts and tees, but I ground my teeth when I spotted a pair of lacy underwear among the rest of the clothing.

  As much as I tried not to, my gaze fell back on Chloe, envisioning what she’d look like wearing them. It was a delectable image, and with the soft lily scent of her perfume filling the space, I felt my cock hardening.

  Ugh, no. There is absolutely no reason to picture that with the chick you’re about to drop off at the airport and never see again.

  “I’m going to change, then we can go.” Her eyes met mine, cutting off my internal battle. I nodded, unsure what else to say other than ‘care for me to watch?’ so I stayed silent.

  Glancing at the clock, I found we’d been there for only ten minutes. Huh, making great time. Guess she was right about it not taking too long. When she came out, she wore a pair of white skinny jeans and a loose blouse. The deep navy of the shirt made her golden tan skin and rich blue-black hair seem even richer. I had to bite my tongue to keep from groaning at how well the denim hugged her legs.

  “Uh,” she started when she found me staring, a tiny pink blush covering her tan cheeks. “Here. I would have washed it, but clearly, that’s not possible.” She held out my nicely folded shirt, and I waved her off.

  “Keep it,” I offered, not wanting any reminder of her after she left. I was already having a hard enough time keeping my head on straight around her.

  “And do what with it?” she smirked, but she pulled her hands back and clutched the shirt to her chest.

  “Wear it as a nightgown.” My sarcastic statement earned a small laugh, the sound warm, which only made standing here more difficult.

  “Not sure how comfortable it’d be as a nightgown, but if you say so,” she countered, walking over to the suitcase and tucking it on top of her other clothes.

  “Good to go?” I asked, ready to be out of her space and somewhere I could get some fresh air and clear my head of her.

  Only another half-hour and she’ll no longer be my problem.

  7

  Chloe

  “So… uh,” I started when we reached the airport, my eyes trailing over the other travelers and cars driving into the area. “Thanks, I guess.” Hunter snorted, giving me a half-assed glare out of the corner of his eyes. “What?”

  Instead of answering me like an adult, he stayed quiet, and my lips thinned in annoyance. It wasn’t until he pulled into the parking garage, I realized he wasn’t just going to drop me off and run. Well, I guess that’s something.

  “Come on,” he finally said, tilting his head toward the main terminal area. I followed suit, shouldering my backpack and dragging my roller suitcase behind me as we headed into the airport. “You’re already checked in,” he explained. “Just need to get your ticket and drop your luggage at the counter. You are checking that, right?” His question was emphasized with a point to my bag.

  “Yeah, but can I know my itinerary? I don’t want to get stuck at another airport because I have no idea what my connection is.”

  “Sure, when we get to the counter, the worker can tell you,” he smarted.

  Biting back a grumble, I chased after him and his long legs. And here I was, thinking he may have started to not be an asshole.

  “Heading back to the states?” the front desk clerk asked brightly, taking my passport, which thankfully had been locked up tight in the hotel safe. Nodding, I adjusted the strap of my backpack before hoisting my suitcase onto the scale.

  “I have to admit, I’m surprised you’re able to lift something so heavy, Short Stuff,” Hunter tol
d me, eying the weight of my bag.

  “Were you here visiting your boyfriend?” the clerk asked me, glancing between Hunter and me. I balked, unsure how to respond, but the clerk just grinned when my face flamed. I hadn’t missed that Hunter had said nothing either. “Well, I hope you had a fun time. Here are your tickets and your itinerary. Do you need anything else?”

  “Nope,” I squeaked, clearing my throat. Hunter’s shoulders shook at my embarrassing moment, and it took everything in me not to punch him in the gut, but somehow, I kept the urge at bay. As we walked away toward security, I glared up at him. “Thanks for your help back there.”

  “You’re welcome,” he smarted with a smirk. As we neared the line to go through security, he turned to me. “You stay out of trouble from now on. I can’t be there all the time to save your ass.”

  “You didn’t save my ass this time,” I huffed.

  His smile grew a fraction of an inch, and he shrugged. “Statement still stands.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, looking at the line. An odd sensation of melancholy filled me after the last twenty-four hours. It wasn’t at all what I had planned for my vacation, but somehow, I enjoyed it. At least the part about having met some interesting people at the Auckland Kings, not the mugging part. “Well, bye, I guess.”

  “See ya, Short Stuff.” Flashing him an awkward grin, I stepped into the line. It would be the last time I’d ever see him, a practical stranger, so I wasn’t sure why I was sad about leaving, but as I worked through the line, I nibbled my lip more and more. Just as I neared the checkpoint, I glanced back, finding him still standing there, but he wasn’t looking at me. Hunter was talking on his phone.

  “Hello, Miss,” the security agent asked, taking my ticket and passport. After a quick scan, he smiled at me and handed back my items. “Have a good flight.”