A Hunted Man (The Men of Halfway House)

by Reese, Jaime

  Cam was on auto-pilot, thrashing, needing to break free.

  Save Hunter.

  A kick landed on one of the large shadows in front of him knocking them to the floor. Another came at him.

  "Grab his fucking feet," the man behind him said in a hushed tone.

  "He's kicking too damn much," the other shadow said. Even though it was a whisper, Cam could swear he heard a woman's tone in that voice. "Where the hell are the other knuckleheads?"

  "They went to get the other guy," the large man, the one called Joe, responded.

  Desperation began to build—he needed to get to Hunter. Now. The thought of something happening to him was too much to bear. Cam kicked with more force, pushing his body off the man in the back who held him tightly. He managed to land a second kick and the woman hit the edge of the pantry before she fell to the ground.

  "You son of a bitch!" she hissed.

  Cam yelled as much as he could, hoping some sound would escape his taped mouth and resonate throughout the silent house as a warning. His heart beat fiercely, echoing in his chest, head, and ears. His face was hot, ready to explode. The tension in his neck painfully building from his muffled yells as his head pounded. The trickle of sweat fell into his eyes, stinging, forcing them shut. He kicked with greater force and fought the hold on his arms, trying to free himself.

  God, please.

  Save Hunter.

  The large man delivered a blow to Cam's stomach that instantly stopped him, followed by a second punch even harder than the first and another to his face. He doubled over in pain, an unbearable pressure in his stomach and a taste of blood in his mouth numbed him.

  "Stay still, you little shit," Joe said through gritted teeth as he grabbed Cam's jaw and dug his fingers into Cam's pained cheek.

  Cam couldn't focus on anything past the pain in his gut. He met the man's gaze—dark and filled with nothing but cruelty. His nostrils flared with each intake of breath. He could barely breathe past the sharp pain.

  He released Cam's face and reached a hand over to help the woman off the ground. She stood and walked over to Cam to deliver a punch to his cheekbone. His head swung to the right and his vision blurred from the impact—compounding the pain in his face.

  "That's enough, baby, you don't want to risk messing up your hand." The man behind him held Cam's arms painfully tighter. "It'll all be over soon," he whispered in Cam's ear.

  Cam had a hard time focusing. His head throbbed and his vision was still blurred. He barely made out the other shadow that appeared in the room, shorter than the man who held him but just as muscular as the larger man standing before him. "So you're Brad's pretty boy?"

  "Enough. Get the other guy," the man who held him ordered.

  The other large shadow rose from the ground after recovering from the kick to the groin. "Hey, boss, where do you need me?"

  "Go find out what's taking the guys so long."

  Cameron heard a gunshot coming from the bedroom.

  Oh God.

  His vision snapped to the hallway leading to Hunter's bedroom.

  He looked over and saw the man race to the hallway with a gun in hand.

  Oh God. Please.

  Cameron looked back at Joe and lost control as rage overtook his body. He threw his head back and made contact with the man holding his arms then launched forward into the large man with the mocking grin just as another gunshot echoed throughout the house.

  * * * *

  Hunter sat up in the bed with a start. His heart raced. Something wasn't right. He stilled and listened. He grabbed his cell phone off the night stand and quickly got out of bed to look for his sleep pants.

  Gone. Cam must have worn them when he went to the kitchen.

  He grabbed his discarded jeans from the side of the bed and quickly dressed. Barefoot and light on his feet, he stealthily walked to the door and listened while he absently redialed the last number on his cell.

  "Hunter?" Aidan's alert voice came though the line.

  Without saying a word, Hunter slipped the phone into his back pocket.

  He straightened and backed up against the wall as he heard the faint click of the turn of the door knob. The door slowly opened and a man walked through followed closely by a second man.

  "Where the fuck is he?" one man asked the other in hushed tones.

  Hunter slowly came out from behind the door and jumped the man closest to him in a neck lock. The second man lunged toward them, gun in hand, while the man in his grip gasped for air. He jerked his arms snapping the man's neck in his hold then threw him onto the second man to slow his approach. The guy caught his limp companion and Hunter took advantage to downward kick the man in the knee.

  The man howled in pain. Hunter sweep-kicked his good leg, knocking him off his feet, disarming him during the fall. Adrenaline raced through Hunter's body, recharging his muscles. He reached for the gun and was pulled back by the hair by yet another man entering the room. He elbowed backward at an upward angle and connected with the man's face, breaking his nose.

  "What the fuck!" another man said when he entered the room.

  Cam. I need to get to Cam.

  Hunter's heart pounded furiously. He dove to the floor for the gun, quickly turned and took aim. He pulled the trigger and shot the new guy in the middle of the forehead. The man dropped to his knees then fell forward, slumping on to the floor. Blood seeped from his face and pooled by his head.

  Another man ran into the room with a ready pistol. Hunter instinctively shot off another round, hitting the second man in the chest. The man clasped his shirt, fell to the ground, and coughed a spray of blood before his movements stilled.

  Hunter was grabbed from behind by the man with the broken nose. They struggled and the gun slipped out of Hunter's hold. They fought to reach the weapon, grabbing and pulling, searching for purchase using each other's limbs as they slipped in the pool of blood. Finally, Hunter back kicked the man and leapt to reach the gun, turned, and discharged the weapon into an already bloodstained face to finish him off.

  "Don't you fucking move!" came another voice from the doorway, behind Hunter.

  Hunter stilled as much as his heaving chest allowed.

  I can't help Cam if I'm dead.

  "Drop the gun, now!" the man demanded.

  Hunter dropped the gun, raised his hands, and slowly turned.

  "What in the hell is going on in here?" asked another man he recognized as Rick from the stakeout. He looked around and surveyed the room. "What. The. Hell."

  "Get up," the large man said.

  Hunter slowly rose from the floor, his jeans and torso stained with blood.

  "Move." The man stepped aside and signaled Hunter to walk through the doorway out into the hall.

  Rick disappeared from the room and returned within moments with a roll of duct tape in his hand.

  "Wait a minute, Joe," Rick ordered. He looked over to Hunter. "Hands together. There's no way you're getting out of this room with your hands free."

  Hunter did as he was told and Rick wrapped duct tape around his wrists.

  "You did all this by yourself?" he asked with a devilish grin. "I knew you had some skills based on our background check but my girl swore you were a paper pusher."

  Hunter glared. He tried to control his heart rate, level his breathing. Too much adrenaline had pumped too fast. His lungs painfully burned with each intake of breath. He needed to calm himself, get to Cam, ensure his safety, but all he could think about were a thousand different ways he wanted to rip this man apart.

  "You should come work for me. You've already killed off four of my best men, and it looks like Vinnie's going to have a little bit of trouble walking. I've got a few openings, what do you say?"

  A steady glare was his only response.

  "Suit yourself."

  "What about Vinnie?" Joe asked.

  Rick assessed the man on the ground still grabbing his knee. "Leave him here for now."

  They walked out into the ha
llway, Rick in front, Hunter in the middle, and Joe followed with his gun pressed against the center of Hunter's back.

  "So here we are," Rick announced. He entered the living room and flipped the light switch on, flooding the room with brightness.

  Hunter immediately flinched as his eyes adjusted.

  Cam sat on a chair, mouth taped, hands behind his back and his legs bound together. His eyes half closed, unfazed by the sudden brightness. His face showed the color of bruising on the left side, a patch of blood on the left side of his head, and a trail of blood along his right temple. He looked tired, drained, his hair drenched in sweat and stuck to his forehead.

  "Cam," Hunter snapped in a forceful tone through the tightness in his throat. He needed to control the simmering panic as he watched Cam withdraw into his protective shell.

  Cam swayed in the seat. His vision pegged to the floor, barely blinking, dazed in a trance, staring at nothing.

  Oh, God. I'm losing him.

  "Cam!" Hunter yelled past the unbearable tightness in his chest.

  Cam blinked and looked up, a blank expression on his face. He made eye contact with Hunter and blinked repeatedly. His eyes rounded, his nostril flared, he forced a muffled yell and tried to stand only to be stopped by his bound feet and the knife Mel held at his throat.

  "Sit still, you little shit," she said with a sneer.

  Cam had a crazed look on his face. Hunter breathed a sigh of relief, even if only for this little ray of hope that Cam was still with him. Cam stared at him, his wild eyes roamed Hunter's body from head to toe, pleading.

  "It's not my blood," Hunter said in a steady tone.

  Cam closed his eyes and sighed heavily.

  "Mel," Hunter said with a sneer.

  "Hunter."

  "Why?"

  "Do you seriously think I want to sit in that fucking office every day for the rest of my life just barely making a living for all those ungrateful assholes? Please. We've talked about it a hundred times. How there's something better out there. The difference is…I actually did something about it."

  Hunter clenched his jaw. He tried to stave off the anger that boiled under the surface—at the helplessness and for not having seen through the façade sooner.

  "Thing is, I know you like that shit…helping people and all that other crap. I was pushing to get you promoted. But noooo," she chastised in a sarcastic tone while wagging her finger. "You had to go after this one." She smacked the back of Cam's head. "I couldn't believe it when our friends told us you were with him last night, holding his hand while he was being interviewed."

  Friends…dirty cops.

  "We figured he'd probably be with you. So thank you. Now we finally have him."

  Cam cringed when Mel flicked the knife in his hair.

  Hunter's chest tightened. "If you hurt him—"

  "What are you going to do? Sic Jessie on me or something?" she said with a laugh.

  "Hun, don't tease. You didn't see the other room."

  "How about we get this wrapped up already?" Mel said.

  "Let's go," Rick said as Joe pushed Hunter toward the back porch. Rick walked over to Mel, gave her a gun and a peck on the cheek. "Use it if he acts up."

  Before Hunter turned to move, he looked at Cam. "I'm coming back for you."

  Cam closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them, he looked at Hunter with a softer expression in his eyes. Hunter could swear on everything that was sacred to him that Cam was telling him those three words he had been denied.

  Hunter's heart raced and his breath caught in his throat. There was no way in hell he was letting this end in any way other than the two of them getting out of there alive and together.

  He was pushed again. He turned to walk out to the back with Joe and Rick.

  He was coming back for Cam, now he just needed to figure out how.

  * * * *

  He's coming back.

  Cam closed his eyes and tried to calm his breathing. Hunter had never broken his word, and given the look in the man's eyes, Hunter would do everything he could to try to come back to him.

  Hunter had revived thoughts, dreams, and wishes Cam had taken a decade to bury. The thought of losing him and returning to a life pre-Hunter was unbearable. His brain had switched off after the gunshot. He was in survival mode, disconnected from everything around him, all the sounds, scents, every sensation. Nothing mattered if Hunter wasn't with him.

  Then he heard Hunter's voice in the midst of the darkness, one word, firm and strong. His name called—commanded—to return to this world. When he saw Hunter, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. Was it possible? There he was, alive and strong to renew his faith that maybe there was a chance they could come out of this together.

  "What the hell are you thinking about?" Mel asked, with her arms crossed, holding the gun in one hand and the knife in the other.

  Cam looked at her with a glare that would rival Hunter's. His nostrils flared with each intake of breath.

  She bent over to look him in the eye. "What? Did I piss you off?"

  Cam leaned back slightly, clenched his teeth then lunged forward and head-butted Mel's face.

  "You. Son. Of. A. Bitch!" She dropped both the knife and gun to the floor to grasp her face as blood seeped out between her fingers.

  Cam took advantage of her disorientation and kicked her with his bound legs. Mel fell back against the sofa table then to the ground, unconscious.

  Cam threw himself onto the floor and tried to grab the knife with his bound hands. He felt the knife, gripped the thicker base, and tried to angle the serrated edge to cut the tape. He flinched when the knife cut his skin. Shit. He tried to look over his shoulder, in the reflection of the stainless steel appliances, anything to try to see what he was doing. Finally, he freed his hands with minimal damage, ripped the tape off his mouth and immediately began to cut through the tape binding his legs.

  Mel stirred.

  His heart hammered against his chest as he steadied his hands and focused on cutting the tape as fast as he could. Finally free, he reached for the gun and knife moments before Mel stood from the floor, ready to attack.

  Keeping his distance from her, he held up the gun and pointed it at her.

  A decade ago, he had killed a man by accident. Now, almost ten years later, he was staring down the line of sight of a gun consciously aimed at a woman.

  Life was a bitch with a cruel sense of humor.

  * * * *

  It seemed like an eternity since Hunter had woken to what sounded like a muffled scream, when in reality, only a few minutes had passed. He stood on his back porch, his hands bound in front of him with Joe's gun pointed at point blank range.

  "Since you plan on killing me anyway, why don't you tell me why?" he asked Rick.

  "I thought that was obvious. You're a pain in my ass."

  Hunter sighed heavily. "I'm not an idiot, I figured that one out. Why Cam? Why all this for him?"

  Rick held Hunter's gaze. "Kid was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Fucked with the wrong guy…literally."

  Hunter tried to contain his anger. "You wanted to keep him quiet, so you put him in prison."

  "Wasn't my doing. I take care of my own shit. Although I'm pissed the fucker tried to give me a nose bleed," Rick said, casually pressing the bridge of his nose.

  Hunter thought of the man's words, he immediately recalled a prior case. "I noticed you're a lefty. Was Preston something you had to take care of?"

  Rick laughed. "Do you seriously think I'm going to start copping to shit? I know better than to say anything that's going to get my ass in the sling. Preston was an ass with a big mouth. But everyone knew that," he finished with a cynical shrug.

  Joe looked off to the side of the house and backed away.

  "What?"

  "Sorry, boss. I thought I heard something."

  When Joe neared again, Hunter reached out and grabbed Joe's head with his bound hands then thrust his knee into his
face. Joe dropped the gun to grab his broken nose and lost his balance on the porch steps, tripping backward onto the grass.

  Rick instantly withdrew a gun from his back and fired a shot at Hunter, grazing his arm. The adrenaline rush pushed him past the burn as he elbowed Rick in the face just in time to misguide his second gunshot upward to hit the edge of the roof. Rick immediately took two steps back. "Son of a bitch!" he yelled as he trained his gun on Hunter again.

  Hunter didn't give him a chance to release another round, he quickly stepped forward swung his arms in a defensive move and disarmed Rick.

  Rick immediately recovered and threw a punch, which landed on Hunter's cheek. The fucker was not slowing down in spite of a broken nose and Hunter couldn't keep this up much longer. Joe pulled his way up the steps and reached for the gun.

  "Police, don't move!" Two men dressed in black, wearing vests, guns aimed, appeared from the side of the house.

  About fucking time.

  His heart raced and his breathing was labored.

  Hunter heard a gunshot from inside. His head whipped around, and he launched back into the house, leaving the officers to handle the two men.

  He bolted inside then froze when he saw Mel on the ground, dead. Her face was covered in blood, but the blood spilling from the side of her temple seemed to have been what finished her off.

  Aidan stood by Cam and reached for the gun he held, still aimed at where Mel would have been standing. He noticed Aidan grabbed the gun by the barrel. It's not hot. Hunter released a sigh of relief. Cam would have battled with himself if he had taken the shot, regardless of the circumstances.

  "It's okay, Cam, just let it go," Aidan coaxed as he held the gun shaking in Cam's grip.

  "Cam," Hunter said, in a soft tone.

  Cam was dazed, non-responsive. His cut arms were held straight out, holding the gun to aim at a target that was no longer there.

  "Cam," he said in a stronger tone. He neared Cam as panic began to set in. He looked at Aidan who still held his hand firmly on the gun's barrel.