HUNTER

by Jessie Cooke

  “Hey, Chris, this guy called Sam Winters his dad’s ‘brother.’ Did he mention if they were in the same MC?”

  “I think he did. He talked about the Skulls. Did I note anything about that?” Hunter skimmed through it again.

  “I don’t see anything.” Chris opened the file in front of him again. Hunter waited while his friend scanned a few pages and then said:

  “Yes, here it is. My partner put him down as affiliated when he first came to us from Youth Authority. He said he was affiliated with the Skulls. When the kid found that out, he went off. He even threatened to kill my partner if he didn’t take that out. Here, I’ll let you read that part.” Chris slid the file over. It was a safety report and the bottom was signed by a Tom Clark. Clark must be the partner Chris kept referring to. He’d written way back in 2007 about affiliating Josiah with the Skulls since that was who he told them his old man used to ride with. Josiah had come unglued when he found that out and demanded to see the P.O. Once in his office, he’d assaulted the correctional officer and threatened to kill Tom Clark if he didn’t remove that affiliation. He was quoted as saying “I’d never affiliate myself with trash like that.” Hunter took out his phone and excused himself. He walked a few feet away from the table and called David.

  “Hey, Hunter.”

  “His old man was a Skull, David. I think you need to talk to Cody again.”

  “You think they had the same father?”

  “Yeah, I do. Too many coincidences start adding up to fact after a while. Find out if Cody had any idea about this guy. I’m not finished here, still looking into who his cellie was and who he was hanging out with on the yard, so I’ll get back to you. I just thought that information might help you out.”

  “For sure. Thanks, Hunter.”

  Hunter ended the call and thought about Dax. This guy was willing to risk his first taste of freedom since he was twelve years old to go after Dax. Why? Something his old man told him? Or something Dax had done? Something in those photos, maybe? Hunter knew Cody’s old man had disappeared when Cody was a kid. This guy seemed to worship that old man, if he was one and the same. Maybe the kid was around the day Cody’s father “disappeared.” That would explain a lot. Fuck.

  Hunter finished going through the file that Chris had brought. He made notes on his phone about men that Josiah had been close to in prison and those he’d been celled up with. The more he read in the P.O. notes and those of the psychiatrists who had interviewed him, the more convinced he was that this was Josiah’s vendetta, and he needed to talk to Dax.

  “You’ve been a lot of help, Chris, thank you,” Hunter said. Looking at Claire he said, “I guess we should get going.”

  “Hang on a second, Hunter. I had actually been thinking about calling you for a few weeks now. I thought maybe someone else did at first and that’s why you were calling me…”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We have an inmate…a lifer who was convicted of killing his sister. She died fifteen years before he was arrested. He was only seventeen at the time, so no one thought to suspect him. The case went cold and when the cold case detectives opened it up, they found some kind of new evidence that pointed at the brother. When they started checking out his alibi for that day, it turned out it was completely made up and no one had actually seen him that day. There was DNA on the blanket she was wrapped up in, but she was killed in 1996, so it was all really new. The cold case detectives matched that DNA first against hers and discovered she was related to whoever left that sample. Then they pulled him in and checked his and it matched. The case was a slam dunk, and he’s been incarcerated for about six months now. I don’t know this guy well, but his cellmate was getting ready for parole and he said something to me one day that got me to thinking…he said that this guy talks in his sleep, about killing women. When the cellmate asked him about it he said, and this is a quote, ‘There’s nothing in the world like the feeling of putting a bitch out of her misery.’”

  “Oh, my fucking God,” Hunter said. The quote had been written in blood at the crime scenes of the killer he and Brett had been chasing. It was the killer’s signature, and never released to the public. “What’s his name?”

  “Jon Bridges,” Chris said. “I know he’s not the guy that killed Brett. He was already in jail at the time, awaiting his own trial…but maybe he was there for one of the killings, which would mean he knows this guy well enough to maybe know where you can find him.”

  “Fuck yeah,” Hunter said. “Can I talk to him?”

  “Sure. Let me know before you’re ready and I’ll set it up.” Hunter was full of nervous energy when they left the bar. He felt good about the information they’d gotten on Josiah, and there was a possibility that someone knew where his brother’s killer was hiding. Hunter felt a thrill run through him at the thought. He wasn’t a killer by nature. He could have never done what his brother did, be a sniper. Hunter had ever only shot his gun in self-defense, but when it came to this man, the one that killed his brother right in front of him, Hunter felt so much hate that he couldn’t see straight. Killing him was going to be a release that Hunter had been looking for since Brett died, and he planned on doing just that…someday.

  26

  “Cody?” Harley came into the front door of their house. She’d gone into the office for a few hours earlier that day, because Cody insisted there was nothing she could do for Angel. She knew that was true and that work would get her mind off it for a while. She’d dropped Ian off at the teen center with a girl named Jessica who had been babysitting for them, kissed Cody good-bye, and headed into town with a two-enforcer escort. She’d only been there about an hour when she got a call from Tammy.

  “Hey, Harley, where are you?”

  “At the office, why?”

  “I think Cody’s going to need you at home.”

  “Okay…what’s going on now?” She was already worried about Kyle. They had history and although their breakup had been a bitter one, she hadn’t completely stopped caring about him. She was worried about Angel, who had become a great friend to her over the past year and a half, and now it seemed she’d have to worry about Cody too.

  “I’m going to let him tell you. He’s okay, but he got some news today that might be hard for him to digest.” Harley didn’t have to ask how Tammy knew that. She knew that Gunner shared everything with his old lady. Tammy was born and bred in an MC and she knew the way it worked like the back of her hand. She’d refused, however, to be one of those old ladies who were left in the dark about things, and Gunner had no problem trusting his old lady enough to share with her. Harley had gotten in her car as soon as she ended the call and with her enforcer escorts, she’d gone back to the ranch.

  “Cody, baby are you here?” She walked through the living room and into the kitchen. Cody was sitting at the table, staring at the wall. “Hey, baby, didn’t you hear me calling your name?” Cody took a few seconds to look at her. It was like he was trying to process what he was hearing and having a hard time. “What’s wrong, baby? What happened?”

  Cody’s blue eyes were locked into hers and she could see the worry there. He struggled with things a lot because of the way he’d grown up. He’d been treated like a dog by his own father and then he’d killed the men that murdered his brother when he was sixteen. He spent the next ten years in prison, constantly looking over his shoulder. Then he came home to find out his best friend had fallen in love with his girl. He didn’t trust easily, but he did trust Harley and she was the only one he confided in when he was feeling anxious.

  “I got a call from David a while ago. The guy that took Angel…his name is Josiah Miller.”

  Harley pulled out the chair next to him and sat down. “Okay…he has the same last name as you. Do you know him?”

  “No, at least I don’t think so. Harley…David seems to think this piece of shit is my brother.”

  She was shaking her head. “That’s crazy—just because you have the same name?”

/>   “No, there’s more.” Cody told her what David had told him, about Josiah’s old man and how he worshipped him, about how Sam Winters was his best friend, and most importantly, how his father was one of the Skulls, back in the day. Cody wanted to believe it was all a coincidence, he told her…but that would be foolish. It was way too much.

  “So, say this guy is your brother…what’s his motivation for going after Angel?”

  “To hurt Dax,” Cody said, flatly.

  “Cody.” Harley slid out of her seat and got down on her knees in front of him. She took both of his hands in hers and said, “You know that even if this slimeball somehow has the same DNA as you, this is not your fault. You overcame that DNA, he didn’t. Dax loves you and he always will. Besides Angel and Susie, Dax loves you the most.”

  “I just can’t believe that after all of these years, even after he’s dead and gone, that monster is still finding a way to fuck up my life.”

  She squeezed his hands and said, “You beat him, Cody…if this is his bad juju, you’ll beat him again. You’re stronger than him. You always have been. If this crazy man that hurt Angel is your half-brother then he got all the bad genes and you’ll beat him too.”

  Cody tugged on her hands and pulled her up in his lap. Harley wrapped her arms around his neck and he pulled her in tightly against his chest. “I love you so much. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “You’ll never have to figure that out.”

  “I hope so, because I already want to destroy this son of a bitch just for what he did to Angel. If anyone ever hurt you…or Ian…”

  “Shh, baby, I know.” Harley hugged him tightly and she firmly believed that together, they could beat anything.

  “That bitch killed my old man!” Georgie was pacing back and forth, ranting. Josiah was sure that Georgie wasn’t just a dealer, he was a tweaker. He’d seen plenty of them in prison. The dudes whose women snuck meth in, carried in pouches in their nasty vaginas. It made him sick to his stomach to think about the men that would go ahead and use that shit. Georgie might not be getting his out of someone’s asshole or vagina, but Josiah found it just as repulsive. “I’m going to kill her, and her old man and that whole fucking club! I’m going to build a fucking bomb and I’m going to blow them up!” Josiah looked over at Georgie’s brother. Chuck was one of those guys that thought he’d made it. He thought he was out of the ghetto and into the big time. But then one day he got a taste of something and realized he couldn’t live without it. For Georgie, it was obviously drugs, but for Chuck, that something was money. He realized how much nicer life was with it than without it and like a drug, that only made him need more. When he couldn’t make enough to support the lifestyle he’d decided he wanted, he just started taking it. Then he got caught and the only place for him to go was home. Back to the place that had ruined him to begin with, but no matter what he did, he couldn’t get it out of his veins. Josiah knew that feeling. His cellmate used to watch him diligently working on his plan every night and he’d tell him to just walk away, start a new life. But his need for revenge was too strong. It was in his veins and it fueled everything inside of him. “I’m going to…”

  “Enough!” Josiah snapped, loudly. “That’s enough, Georgie. Sit down.”

  “Who the fuck are you to…?”

  “Georgie!” Chuck barked at him. “Sit down and shut up!”

  For some reason, Georgie still had enough respect for his older brother to take a seat and shut his mouth. Once it was finally silent and Josiah could think straight he said, “We’re going to make that slut pay for what she did to your dad, my Uncle Sam…but we’re not going to blow them up. Everything that we do to them is going to be up close and personal and they’re going to die with our faces as the last thing they ever laid eyes on. And hear me when I say this…Dax Marshall is the last to go, and he’s mine. When it’s time for him to die, I want him to look into my eyes and know I took everything and everyone away from him.”

  “Why are you in charge?” Georgie asked.

  “Because it’s my plan,” Josiah told him.

  Chuck stood up and said, “I don’t care who’s in charge here, I’m done.”

  “Sit down,” Josiah said.

  “Fuck this. I just did this for the money I got paid that first night. I didn’t sign up for life.” He turned and started for the door. In one swift move, Josiah grabbed him from behind with his big arm around the other man’s neck and he twisted. He heard the satisfying snap and then he heard Georgie scream like a girl and run for the door. He dropped Chuck onto the floor and jumped over him in time to grab Georgie. He’d hoped for help, bringing Dax and his club to its knees, but he wasn’t going to get it from these fools. Georgie was screaming and wailing and begging for his life. Josiah held onto him with one arm and slid his knife out of his pocket. When he pressed it to Georgie’s throat the idiot was able to let out one last blood-curdling scream before Josiah pulled it all the way across and silenced him…forever. He dropped him quickly before the blood saturated his clothes. It was on his hands and arms, but that was an easy enough fix. Josiah stepped over Chuck and went to the sink in the fifth-wheel trailer they’d been hiding out in. He washed the blood off his hands and the knife and then he stuck the knife down in his pocket. On his way back to the door he stopped and took Chuck’s wallet out of his pocket and then he slid his hand down in the front pocket of Georgie’s jeans. When he pulled out a handful of condoms, his stomach rolled. Who in their right fucking mind would have sex with this brainless fool? He dropped them to the floor and checked the other pocket. He found what he was looking for there…the roll of bills that the desperate junkies had paid him for a taste of something that would take them out of the ghetto and make them feel important for sixty minutes of their pathetic lives at a time. It was disgusting, but he would put the money to good use. He was going to make his old man proud…or die trying.

  27

  Claire sat in the back of the courtroom. She wasn’t sure if seeing her would make Larry feel better or worse, so she was erring on the safe side. She’d driven to Dorchester that morning after serving breakfast for the six tourists staying at the Inn. Hunter had called her the night before and told her he’d be in court this morning, but the judge had already called it to order and he wasn’t in sight.

  As the judge began to read the charges against Larry, Claire thought about how much had happened in two weeks. She’d hit Hunter over the head and knocked him out, harbored a fugitive, met with a motorcycle club, had sex about a dozen times…for the first time in ten years… and frighteningly enough, she was falling in love with the man partly responsible for her father’s being in court today. She wished that she could feel good about falling in love with him, instead of feeling guilty. When she was with him, it was all wonderful. He was funny and sarcastic, gorgeous and so hot in bed. He was smart and brave and sexy. He was everything. Everything except for the father who she was about to lose because of him, and when she wasn’t with him, that’s all she could think about.

  “Do you understand these charges, Mr. Donovan?” the judge was asking Larry when Claire’s thoughts came back to the present.

  “Yes, your honor,” Larry said. Claire had brought him a gray suit. She’d bought it new for him, in the same size as the last clothes she’d bought for him only a few months before. The suit hung on his thin frame like his body was a hanger. He’d lost so much weight. Claire wasn’t sure if it was stress, or the drugs he’d been using, but he didn’t look healthy and she worried about how his health would fare in jail.

  “How do you plead?”

  Larry looked at his attorney. Claire’s heart hurt as she watched him. He was so much like a child in a man’s body. He needed her to take care of him. He looked lost. The attorney nodded and Larry opened his mouth to enter his plea when suddenly the courtroom doors were thrown open and a man in a big cowboy hat and shiny cowboy boots walked in. Claire barely noticed him for the man behind him in his own shiny
cowboy boots. It was Hunter, and he gave her a little smile and a wink before the judge yelled, “What is this? Who are you?”

  “I’m sorry, sir,” the man with Hunter said. “My name is Harold Myers and I’m with the U.S. Marshal’s office. I have an order to take my witness into protective custody.” The man held up a piece of paper and the judge motioned him forward. Claire was confused. She was looking at Hunter for answers, but his eyes were on the marshal and the judge. Larry’s attorney and the state prosecutor had both approached the bench as well. She looked at her father and his eyes were on her. He looked just as confused, if not more so. She tried giving him a reassuring smile, but she wasn’t sure she had it in her at the moment. The judge read the paper the marshal gave him and then he looked up at Larry.

  “Mr. Donovan?” Larry turned back to face the judge. “I’m remanding you into the custody of the U.S. Marshals. This case is dismissed by the great Commonwealth of Massachusetts. Good luck to you.”

  “What? I don’t understand,” Larry said. He looked at his attorney. The man was still in conversation with the prosecutor; neither of them looked happy. It was Hunter who leaned over the barrier and whispered something to Larry that not only seemed to comfort him but made him smile. Larry looked back at Claire and suddenly his face was radiant. What the hell was going on?

  Larry gave Claire a little wave as the U.S. Marshal led him out of the courtroom. The prosecutor and defense attorney were madly shuffling papers and Hunter was coming toward her. “What just happened?”