Hunted (The Dirty Heroes Collection Book 13)

by Cassandra Faye

  “Wait!” Rushing over, I grab my bag from the floor and gesture toward the larger bedroom. “Let me show you which room we’ll use.”

  “Uh, okaaaay. You’re acting really strange, Jared. What’s up?” Harper gives me a weird look and I force a quick laugh before pointing at the deer heads.

  “I thought you didn’t want an audience?”

  Rolling her eyes, she scoops up her bag. “Good point. I can go ahead and get the sheets on the bed too.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” I answer, taking a deep breath to try and slow my racing heart.

  Fuck me. I’ve got to chill out or I’m going to give everything away.

  An hour later, and the fridge has finally chilled enough to move stuff from the cooler, which means we’ll be completely unpacked and ready to enjoy the weekend.

  “Here, babe.” I hand her the milk, and she puts it away, turning around to accept the yogurt I’ve already got waiting for her. Sitting on the floor of the kitchen by the cooler, our tiny version of a bucket brigade means we’ll be done soon, which means I can distract her with something else. Maybe a quick hike. As I hand off the rest of her yogurt, my eyes drift to the bedroom we’ll be in tonight.

  It’s the one Dad has always slept in, which makes me feel kind of weird, but it has the bigger bed. It wouldn’t exactly be a romantic weekend for us to cram onto one of the twin beds in the smaller room, and there’s no way in hell I’m sleeping in a separate bed just to stay out of ‘Dad’s room.’ Before we moved in together, I slept like shit on the nights she stayed at her place, and even though both of our parents weren’t fans of us getting an apartment together… it seems like we’ve weathered the worst of that.

  Pretty much.

  Staring at the door has me rethinking where I left my duffel bag. I debated tossing it in the closet, but that would have just made her curious enough to look inside it, so I’d left it against the wall on my side of the bed instead — which means it should be safe. Probably. At least I was able to rearrange my bag while Harper was changing so that even if she does look for something in it, it isn’t likely she’ll stumble across the only secret I’m actually keeping from her.

  Everything leading up to this trip has had me in knots. I hadn’t meant to keep the cabin itself a secret, but when I’d told her it didn’t have an address, she’d started teasing me about my family having a secret compound ‘off the grid.’ But while this place is definitely off the grid, it’s not exactly a secret, it’s just… for family. Regardless, the secrecy of the cabin kept Harper busy for the last few weeks, which meant she wasn’t digging into other things that would have ruined our whole weekend.

  The likelihood that Dad could find out about her being here is pretty low, and if she mentions it to him years from now it won’t even matter.

  “So, what are we doing for dinner tonight, oh king of the outdoors?” Harper asks, looking down at me with her hands on her hips and the fridge door closed. I’ve been so distracted by my thoughts, that I didn’t even realize I’d handed her the last items.

  Shaking off the haze in my brain, I flip the lid of the cooler closed again and push myself up from the floor. “Unfortunately, tonight is probably going to be sandwiches. I’ll head out early in the morning to try and grab us a deer.”

  “How early?” She gives me a look that says my reply of ‘dawn’ isn’t going to be a welcome one, and I chuckle.

  “You don’t need to come with me, babe. I’ll sneak out and hopefully have one hung up in the cellar before you’re up and about.”

  “That’s not fair, Jared. I’ll come with—”

  “It’s fine, babe. I promise. I know you don’t like to watch me kill something,” I say as I pull her against me, leaning down to breathe in the scent of her shampoo. “Even if you do enjoy the results.”

  “And what results are those?” she asks, tilting her head to the side so I can run my lips down her neck, dragging my tongue over the edge of her collarbone.

  “Good food,” I whisper, nipping her skin just so I can hear that sweet little gasp she makes. “A boyfriend who is a total manly man.”

  “Manly man?” she repeats on a laugh, and I can’t help but grin as I lift my head to capture her mouth in a kiss.

  “I’m super manly.” Adding a caveman grunt to the end has her laughing, her bright smile lighting up her whole face, and I have to remind myself that I can’t rush the plan for the weekend. I love her so damn much, and I just have to hope she feels the same.

  “My king of the outdoors.” Harper kisses me and I pull her closer, wrapping my arms around her back as we taste each other, neither of us pushing for anything more than just this. She’s perfect. So damn down to earth, so fun, and I have no idea how she ended up this way when her family is the stereotypical uptight, traditional, rich asshats. More obsessed with their name and social standing than anything as real as the earth under their feet.

  But Harper is different. She’s kind, open-minded, and up for anything.

  Breaking the kiss, she smiles up at me, her warm brown eyes searching mine. “Okay, king, what’s the plan for the evening?”

  “Up to you, babe. We can go for a quick hike before we lose the light, or we could save our energy for the hike tomorrow and just stay in.”

  “Will you show me around your secret cabin?” she asks, grinning at me with a mischievous expression.

  “You’ve pretty much seen the entire thing. It’s not very big.”

  “Come on, show me around.” Harper grabs my hand, pulling me into the living room with her as she walks backward. “What did your dad add to the cabin? What makes it so secret and special? What do you guys normally do out here?”

  Sighing, I point at the door to the room we’ll be sleeping in. “That’s the room dad usually sleeps in, and Ollie and I always slept in this one.” Intertwining our fingers, I tug her over to the small bedroom beside the bathroom and open the door. The twin beds are bare, pushed against opposite walls, and an old, scarred desk is tucked under the window.

  “It’s so bare,” she says, letting go of my hand to walk further in.

  “What did you expect? Posters of boy bands?” Leaning against the doorframe, I chuckle when she shoots a look at me. “Hey, don’t judge me for my love of One Direction.”

  “Oh, really? Who was your favorite? Harry, Zayn?”

  “I’m definitely a Zayn Malik fan,” I answer, and she laughs.

  “Oh my God, are you being serious?” Harper asks, and I shrug, holding a straight face for about ten seconds before I crack.

  “It’s not my thing, but Addison was obsessed so I know more than I probably should about One Direction and all the drama involved.” Chuckling, I point at the desk. “Ollie and I carved our initials underneath that. I don’t know if Dad has ever noticed.”

  “Really?” Crouching down, she looks under it, reaching up to trace her fingers across the wood, and I’m distracted by her curves again. “This is cool. It’ll probably be here for generations.”

  “That’s the plan anyway,” I reply, shrugging a little as I remember sitting underneath it beside Ollie as we carved out the letters with our pocketknives, adding the year for good measure. “That desk has been here since before I was born for sure.”

  “I love it.” Standing up, she peeks out the window, and the warm gold of the setting sun turns strands of her brown hair into fire. “This place is really beautiful.”

  “Thanks.” Gesturing back into the living room, I beckon her. “Come on, let me show you the rest.”

  “How long would you guys normally spend out here?” she asks as she follows me.

  “Usually a week, sometimes a long weekend. This is the mud room.” Opening the door to the small space, I point at the large sink and the plastic mat on the floor in front of it. “This is where we wash up from outside, so we don’t track too much shit inside the house.”

  “Cool.”

  “And this is what my dad added to the house,” I say as I ignore the ba
ckdoor and punch in the code to the locked room to open it for Harper. Flicking on the light, I move aside so she can see inside. Her eyes go wide, but she walks in after a moment and I’m curious about how she’s going to react.

  “This is… a lot of weapons.”

  “Yeah.” The long, narrow room extends all the way to the edge of the cabin, but there’s no windows so that if someone were to wander onto our land and find it, they wouldn’t be able to see the real treasures of the place. “My family have always been hunters, and that means we’ve collected quite a few things.”

  “I thought the ones you had at home were the only ones you had,” she mumbles, and I hate that I can’t tell how she feels.

  “Well, kind of. Those are mine, but these belong to the family. Some of this shit is so old we couldn’t use it anyway, but we keep it because they’re basically heirlooms.” Moving inside I stop beside her where she’s staring at one of the bows. “You can touch them. You’re not going to hurt anything.”

  “Where’s the string?” Harper asks, running her fingers along the wood of a recurve bow on a rack.

  “Can’t leave it strung or it’ll weaken the wood. If we want to use it, we have to restring it before we go out. Want me to show you how?” I pick up the one she’s looking at, but she shakes her head.

  “I’m good. I’ve just never seen this many guns or bows in one place.”

  Chuckling, I look around the room and I have to agree with her. The left wall is covered in wooden dowels to support all the bows, and the right has racks of rifles and two handmade units underneath with drawers. Inside those are handguns, ammo, string, and a lot of knives. “I guess it does look like we could open a store or something, but it’s generations of stuff. A lot of it used to be in the cellar, but Dad wanted to keep it more secure and store everything the right way. Keep it in good shape, you know?”

  “That makes sense.” Turning around, her eyes linger on the rifles before skirting the cabinets. “So, you know how to use all this?”

  “Yeah. Dad has been bringing me out here a long time, and it kind of runs in the family. Doesn’t matter what we pick up, we’re just… good.”

  “Good?” Harper repeats, finally meeting my gaze, and I feel even more nervous because I can’t tell how she feels about all this.

  “Um, good shots. Just a weird talent with us,” I try to explain, running a hand through my hair. “Doesn’t really matter which weapon we use, we just… always hit the target. I think it’s why we have so many different types.”

  “That’s impressive.”

  “Thanks.” Moving closer to her, I reach for her hand and I’m relieved when she lets me take it, squeezing back. “I promise we’re not crazy, doomsday preppers. Hunting is just a tradition in our family, and it works because we’re good at it.”

  “Have you ever done any competitions?”

  “Dad wouldn’t let us,” I answer, and she looks at me again, a furrow appearing between her brows.

  “What? Why not?”

  “I don’t know. He’s just weird about it.” Shrugging, I look around the room, the smell of it bringing back so many memories. “Dad always told us that these weren’t toys, that they’re for hunting, not playing with. When I was a kid he got pissed when I did an archery thing in Cub Scouts. I did really well even though I’d never used a bow before, but he ended up pulling me out after that happened. That’s when he started bringing me up here.”

  “I had no idea your dad was so intense about this stuff.”

  You have no idea.

  “It’s not a big deal, I promise. Want to see something really cool?” I ask, changing the subject as I let go of her hand to walk to the end of the room. Harper doesn’t answer, but she follows me as I crouch down in front of the old chest and open it. Unwrapping the old bow from the cloth, I lift it out carefully. “This is the oldest thing in here. My dad doesn’t even know who exactly owned it, but it’s definitely over a hundred years old.”

  “Wow, it’s beautiful.” Leaning closer, Harper gently brushes her fingers over the delicate carvings in the wood. The little stags leap and run through intricate patterns and I’m as drawn in by them as the first time Dad showed it to me.

  “Yeah. There was a commitment to craftsmanship a long time ago, you know? People put their heart and soul into these things.” Adjusting my hold on the bow, I stand up and lift it like I’m going to fire, and it feels good. Right. Like it was meant for my hand. The well-worn area of the grip fits perfectly, and the wood feels surprisingly warm as I imagine an arrow in my hand, the woods all around me.

  Hunt.

  I can almost feel the arrow notching in place as I mime the movement, my fingers tingling as I remember the last time Dad and I hunted out here. The buck had appeared through the trees, moving carefully through the underbrush, but in the still silence I’d been able to hear every rustle of leaves. Dad had touched my elbow, signaling he wanted me to take the shot, and I’d raised my bow quietly, drawn back the string, and—

  “Jared!” Harper grabs my shoulder, turning me toward her, and for a second I’m annoyed that she ruined my shot, but then I realize I’m staring at the wall of the storage room.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Babe, I said your name like three times. You kind of zoned out there for a minute. Are you okay?” she asks, and I can see sincere concern on her face.

  “I’m fine. I was just thinking about the last time Dad and I were here,” I answer, flashing a smile as I lean down to put the bow away. “Sorry I spaced out.”

  “No problem. That pose was kind of hot anyway.” Harper’s voice has that flirtatious edge that always gets me going, and I have some very good ideas for how I want to spend the evening now.

  “I’m so glad you liked it,” I reply, running my fingers over the carvings on the bow before I cover it again and close the chest. “Come on, let’s watch a movie.”

  “You have a TV here?” Leading the way out of the storage room, Harper glances back over her shoulder at me. “This is definitely glamping.”

  “You’re absolutely right,” I concede with a laugh, pausing at the entrance to look back at the room, my gaze lingering on the chest before I force myself to turn off the light and shut the door. “But how else was my dad supposed to keep us entertained if it was pouring rain?”

  “Ghost stories?” she suggests, and I laugh as we head back into the living room.

  “I’m sure there’s a few scary movies if that’s what you’re in the mood for.”

  “I’m in the mood for a lot of things,” Harper replies with a wicked grin, and all I want to do is grab her and toss her on the bed — but I hold back, pushing the urge down.

  “Like charades?” I joke, and she drops onto the couch and tosses one of her shoes at me from the floor. Catching it, I grin. “Okay, no charades. Yahtzee? Chutes and ladders? Checkers?”

  “Would you shut up and get over here?”

  “Whatever you say, babe,” I reply, dropping her shoe to run and jump onto the couch, pinning her underneath me. Her laughter has me changing my mind from kissing her to tickling her just to hear more.

  “Oh my God! Jared! Stop it!” Her shouts are stilted, broken up by her hysterical cackling as I find the spot on the inside of her hip that always sends her into another fit of laughter. “Stop, stop, stop!”

  Planting my hand beside her waist to hold me up, I grin down at her. “This isn’t what you had in mind?”

  “Not at all,” she says, her face still flushed as she grabs my shirt and pulls me into a kiss.

  I’d planned to watch a movie with her, teasing her until she was begging for me before I took her to bed, but… we can always watch the movie after. Or tomorrow.

  Since I came earlier, I know I’ll have plenty of stamina to drive her crazy, to make her come over and over before we both crash.

  4

  Jared

  The pink tinge in the sky is beautiful, and I pause for a moment to look up at the way the cl
ouds seem to glow with the sunrise, bouncing back vibrant oranges and pale golds amidst the pink hue. The dusky purple of night is disappearing to the west, and I take a deep breath of the cool air as I enjoy the birds and the sound of the wind moving through the trees.

  I almost wish I’d given in to the urge to wake Harper up, just so she could see the land like this, but it was too early, and I’d promised she could sleep in.

  And taking her hunting out here would have been too far.

  That thought keeps tugging at me. Like I’m doing something wrong by having her here, but I know Dad would understand — will understand.

  Movement catches my eye, and I look down the ridge to see a deer moving through the trees, picking its way over the rocks sticking out of the ground around the dry creek bed. Everything gets sharper as I focus on the buck, watching carefully to make sure it’s old enough. Technically, I shouldn’t be hunting at all this time of year, but Dad has always said that when we’re hunting on our land, to stock our fridge, the rules don’t matter.

  But I’m using a bow just in case.

  Pulling an arrow, I notch it without having to look. This part of hunting has always felt second-nature, as easy as breathing, and I only glance down at the ground in front of me for a second as I move toward the deer.

  The buck raises its head and I freeze. It’s a big one with a good spread on the antlers, even though they’re still coated in velvet at this time of year — but it’s perfect. It will definitely fill the freezer, and I’ll have more than enough to share with friends when we get home.

  It leans down again and I move slowly forward. I’d ignored the doe I saw first because I knew she could still be tending to some fawns, but I hadn’t worried about it. There’s something about these woods, our woods, that mean we always find what we need. Of course, if I told Harper that she’d probably laugh it off or weave it into her conspiracy theory about our ‘secret’ cabin… but some things just can’t be explained.