HUNTED

by C. Luca

  His eyes hold mine. “Does massage help?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Give me your leg,” he says simply.

  Awkwardly, I shift and ease my damaged leg onto his lap, feeling self-conscious. A few days ago, I never would have even considered allowing him to massage it. But so much has changed in such a short amount of time.

  Kane begins to firmly run his fingers over my calf, applying pressure here and there. It hurts, but it also feels good at the same time. His touch is firm but also careful.

  I like that he genuinely doesn’t seem put off by my leg. My eyes focus on his tanned hands—hands that have touched me intimately.

  Nope, I can’t think like that.

  Bad, bad idea.

  Kane glances at me. “Does this happen a lot?”

  “The pain?”

  “The restless nights.” He studies me closely. “You spend a lot of nights pacing, don’t you.” It’s not a question.

  I shrug, brushing it off. “It’s my life.”

  He falls silent.

  “Have you killed a lot of people?” I ask without thinking and then grimace. “Sorry, that was rude. You don’t have to answer,” I quickly add.

  I wish I hadn’t said what I’d been thinking out loud. I’d been pondering how different our lives were, and I’d recalled how he’d killed those two men in my apartment without hesitation.

  He doesn’t seem offended by the question as his fingers press into my calf. “It’s a part of the job. In those situations, it’s either kill or be killed,” he says simply.

  I search his expression. “Does it bother you?” I ask softly.

  His fingers continue to massage, and he appears unbothered with the direction our conversation has taken. “In the beginning,” he admits, “but it didn’t take too long to compartmentalize those situations so that I could live with them. Either bad guys die, or the innocent do.”

  This might be my chance to learn more about his past, so I dare to ask, “Why do you do what you do?”

  His expression shuts down, and his hand stops moving. “Better?”

  It’s difficult to hide my disappointment, and I wish now that I hadn’t asked. “Much, thank you,” I say lightly, moving my leg off his lap.

  He rises to his feet. “Get some sleep, Tessa.”

  I watch him leave the room, quietly closing the door behind him. When I’m alone, my shoulders drop a little. My intention hadn’t been to chase him off, but I suppose his sudden exit gives me my answer. If the business wasn’t personal for him, he wouldn’t have closed down on me.

  Something happened to him, and now I want to know more than ever how Kane became the man that he is today.

  Fifteen

  Kane

  I gaze sightlessly at the laptops in front of me after sitting back down on the sofa. I listen intently for Tessa, wanting to make certain the pain in her leg has eased, and she doesn’t have to pace any further.

  All is silent coming from the general direction of her room. She’s likely in bed, and I release a relieved sigh. I feel like an ass for abruptly leaving like I had, but the last thing I wanted to do was explain why I began the business.

  It had been incredibly difficult to move on from the deaths of my parents and brother. My father hadn’t been as big a crime lord as Tessa’s, but he was high enough on the ladder to have a hit put out on him and his family.

  They came for us one night, guns blazing.

  I loved my parents, because even though they lived a life of crime, they were still so good to me and my brother. But it was Kevin that was on the forefront of my mind that night. I’d raced for his room, hoping to God that I could get to him in time so we could lock ourselves in the panic room. I’d been too late though, and when I’d entered his room, he was already dead.

  My chest tightens as I try to shake off the image of his little, five-year-old body lying in bed, riddled with bullets. He likely never knew what happened and had no fear, but I live with the memory daily. At eighteen, I took his death personally.

  Somehow that night, I dodged the group of men searching the house for me and ran from the property, sticking to the shadows. Then, I went into hiding, determined to make them pay one day.

  I did manage to have my revenge, but once that revenge had been dealt, I began to focus on making certain other innocents didn’t lose their lives like my little brother had. It’s one thing to go after adults, but children…

  Fuck. You just don’t do that.

  Only the soulless would end the life of a child.

  As I feel my mood darkening over memories I’ve learned to store away, I try to focus on Tessa.

  She brings light into my life with her innocence.

  My thoughts immediately switch to what we’d done in the bathroom…

  It’d been hard as hell to concentrate on anything today other than the way she’d writhed and moaned in my arms earlier.

  It’s replayed in my mind, over and over.

  Sometimes, I find myself kicking myself for not allowing things to play out further. Because when Tessa eventually has her new life, I’ll be wishing that I had so that I had the memory.

  I’ve always been drawn to her, more like obsessed, I amend. Being around her twenty-four/seven has been enjoyable and torturously tempting—once I’d gotten over my anger with her.

  I’m finding that she’s softhearted, with a hint of natural seductiveness. How the hell was I supposed to walk away from her in that bathroom when she was begging for things that she’s never experienced?

  My dick stirs at the memory of her naked body. I’ve never had a type or anything, but Tessa’s small breasts, and the little trimmed thatch of caramel-colored hair hiding her pink…

  Fuck…

  She’s so sexy.

  I’d like to show her plenty more of what I could do to make her come undone again, but it can’t happen. Being distracted while I’m keeping her safe could very well cost her life.

  Then, there’s the fact that she’s so young. I already know a casual screw will hurt her, because she doesn’t have enough life experience to know to walk away from it when the danger is past. She’ll want more.

  Me too, to be honest, but I would still walk away.

  Even so, what happened today has changed things no matter how much I want to pretend that it hadn’t. She’s had a taste of pleasure, and she’s naturally going to want more, and I’m going to want to give it to her.

  It’s going to be up to me to keep things professional, but I’m already losing the damned battle. I don’t know how the hell I’m going to dredge up more resolve to withstand the temptation.

  Sixteen

  Tessa

  The next morning, I pretend everything is normal as I follow my usual routine. By the time I shower—without any eight-legged visitors—and begin my morning pacing of the trailer to loosen my knee, Kane is sitting on the sofa, preoccupied with the laptops.

  Does he ever sleep?

  The only time I’ve actually witnessed him rest is when I’d insisted after he’d been shot.

  Kane looks up at me, nothing in his expression giving away what had happened yesterday. “Morning.”

  “Morning. Eggs and bacon?” I ask, walking to the kitchen and then slowly walking back into the living room. After my walking, I typically start in on breakfast for us.

  “We’re out of bacon. I’m going to run to the grocery store down the road in a little bit,” he informs me.

  I pause my pacing and look at him hopefully. “Can I come with you?” I ask, but Kane is already shaking his head.

  “You’re not here, remember?” he lightly reminds.

  I sigh, unable to hide my disappointment.

  His hazel eyes urge me to have patience. “This won’t be forever, Tessa.”

  I give him a small smile and resume walking in the direction of the kitchen. He can continue reassuring me all he wants, but the truth is, this could last a very long time.

  Deciding I need a d
istraction before my mood can plummet further, I walk over to a cupboard and pull out a pan to make scrambled eggs. While I begin the process of making breakfast, Kane continues to focus on his computers, the soft sound of his fingertips tapping the keyboards reaching my ears.

  I am extremely thankful to be alive, but some fresh air would be nice. Not the fresh air that you get from an open window, but the kind you can breathe in while outside.

  Compared to the loft, this place is miniscule, but again, I remind myself that I should be grateful.

  It doesn’t take long to make the eggs, and soon, Kane and I are sitting at the kitchen table while we eat.

  “You should make a list of anything you want or need,” he suggests.

  I nod as I chew. “I’m surprised you’re willing to leave me on my own,” I can’t help but comment.

  His gaze settles into mine as he reaches for his glass of orange juice. “Sean will keep an eye on the place while I’m gone. If anything happens, he’ll be here in a heartbeat.”

  I scoop up more fluffy eggs with my fork. “Am I ever going to meet this mysterious Sean?” I ask with interest.

  He gives me a look. “You better hope you don’t.”

  Right. The only time we’d ever meet is if the bad guys arrive on our doorstep.

  “I know this is hard, Tessa.”

  I glance at him to find him watching me intently. I set down my fork with a sigh. “It’s true what they say, you don’t know what you have until it’s taken away.”

  His hazel eyes soften. “I understand why you did it.”

  “You do?” I ask, my eyes searching his.

  “Besides the accident, you hadn’t come face to face with the reality of your situation.”

  I nod in agreement. “It didn’t feel real.” I grimace. “It sure feels real now.”

  “We’ll get through it,” he assures.

  I gaze at him. When this is over, Kane’s likely going to fade back into the shadows, and I’m dreading it.

  He rises to his feet with his empty plate and glass, taking them to the sink. “I’ll go get you a pen and paper for that list.”

  * * *

  An hour later, Kane drives off to get groceries, and I am left all alone in the small home.

  Immediately, I head for my bedroom and move the lamp off the nightstand before dragging the table to the only window in the room. I sit down on the nightstand and open the blinds a smidge so I can peek between them.

  Kane caught me doing this once, and he’d sternly told me to stay away from the windows and to keep the blinds firmly closed.

  Well, he’s not here now, and I’m so incredibly bored. Anything new to break up the repetitious days has become almost exciting to me.

  Besides, there’s no way anyone can see me. Not only that, but who would be suspicious of this home anyway? As far as neighbors are concerned, it’s just Kane living here.

  My attention shifts to the mobile home directly across the street from ours.

  It’s similar to the one we’re currently staying in, except that one is painted blue with white trim. It also has a cute, little patio that the front steps lead to before you enter the home. There’s even a basket of geraniums hanging from a hook by the door, giving off the appearance that a woman lives there.

  Nice touch to ward off suspicion, I can’t help but think.

  I note that blinds cover the bedroom windows, but not the large, living room window. From this far away, I can’t see inside the home, and I’m disappointed. I’ve never been the snooping type, but boredom can really get to a person.

  It’s also always silent across the street.

  I wonder what Sean is like. Is he Kane’s friend as well? Or is it all business between them?

  Down the road, I see a child playing in a sprinkler in someone’s front yard. I don’t see the mother, but that isn’t why my heart constricts. What if there is collateral damage?

  I could never live with myself if someone were to die because of me—especially a child. Then, there’s the faceless neighbors on either side of this trailer. The one to the right has brown siding, and a large pine tree seems to divide our property from theirs. There isn’t much in their backyard, and the grass looks dry and overgrown.

  To our left is a green mobile home that looks well-maintained and has bird feeders perched near the living room window. I’d heard someone mowing the other day but hadn’t been able to peek out the window, because Kane watches me like a hawk.

  I can’t put faces to any of the people that surround us, but I worry about them and how my being here puts everyone in this community at risk.

  The weight of that knowledge is heavy.

  I should have never tried to contact my father, and I hate that my thoughtless action could affect strangers that I don’t even know. Yes, I long to reconnect with my father, he’s my only family. But I was selfish, and I see that now. The rules were in place for a reason. Yet, I was determined to break them, because I didn’t believe the consequences would be that great.

  These past few weeks have really opened my eyes to my reality. Nor am I the same paranoid woman that was always on edge. This experience has changed me.

  I know now that those that watch me are there to keep me safe, not to suffocate or restrict me.

  The sound of my new phone going off startles me, and I jerk away from the blinds.

  Inside the duffel bag that Kane had prepared for me was a new phone. Since we’re basically living together, there’s been no reason to use it, so I’ve left it on top of the dresser. I’ve made certain to charge it every other day so that it’s available if needed.

  I rise to my feet and walk to the dresser, picking up the phone. When I open the screen, I see that I have a text message from Kane. Stop looking out the damn window.

  A scowl comes over my face as I stare at the text.

  I’d barely touched the blinds, but the mysterious Sean must be sitting in his living room watching the windows over here.

  There’s a part of me that is annoyed that I can’t seem to do anything anymore, while the logical half knows that this is all for my own good. Kane and Sean certainly know more about what I should and shouldn’t be doing than I do.

  Wisely, I decide not to respond to the text, and I set the phone back on the dresser.

  Then, with a resigned sigh, I go about dragging the nightstand back to its prior position near the bed and make certain the blinds are firmly closed.

  I look around the room with boredom, not quite sure what I want to do next. Typically, I sit in the living room and watch Kane until he grows distracted with having an audience.

  Maybe I’ll go clean the bathroom.

  Perhaps rearrange the refrigerator, too. Kane just puts things wherever, but organizing it daily gives me something to do.

  A derisive sound escapes the back of my throat.

  And I thought my old life in Salt Lake City was depressing.

  Seventeen

  Tessa

  I sleep in late the following day, and instead of getting up, I linger in bed for a while despite my knee and leg aching.

  Even with the small air conditioning unit, it’s still quite warm, and I’d pulled off the light bedsheet during the night. I’m just clad in a tank and panties, and I lie there, gazing up at the ceiling.

  I am in no mood to meet the day.

  To be honest, I wish I could just sleep through it and skip to tomorrow.

  Somewhere down the street, I hear a dog begin to bark. And further in the distance, someone is already mowing their lawn. Judging by the bright sunlight trying to filter in between the blinds, it’s late morning.

  Minutes pass by, and I sigh softly. I really should get up, because if I don’t, my knee will be worse than usual. Even so, it takes another ten minutes before I drag myself out of bed and into the bathroom for my daily shower.

  By the time I exit the bathroom, I smell something delicious. Kane must be making breakfast, and I feel momentarily guilty that I hadn’t g
otten up sooner. It’s not like we’d divided housework or anything, but I usually do the cooking because I like to.

  When I enter the kitchen, Kane has just finished setting the table. He’d made pancakes, and there’s a large bowl of fresh fruit, and two glasses of orange juice.

  “Sorry I slept in,” I say lightly as I walk to the cupboard to pull out a jar of peanut butter.

  “I don’t expect you to make breakfast every morning, Tessa.”

  I take a seat, flashing him a smile as I open the peanut butter and dip a spoon inside. “This looks great,” I tell him as I spread the creamy peanut butter on top of my pancakes.

  Kane settles into the other chair across from me. “You haven’t tasted them yet,” he cautions.

  His warning brings a grin to my face. “Anything you make is good, and you know it.” I reach for the syrup and drizzle it all over the peanut butter while Kane avoids looking at my plate.

  I hide my amusement as I pick up my fork and dig in. Yes, I have an addiction with peanut butter. I will eat it on anything. Kane, on the other hand, has a natural dislike for it.

  For a long moment, we’re both quiet as we eat. The pancakes are indeed delicious, and half my plate is empty by the time I decide to make conversation. I cave to the temptation of wanting to learn more about him and ask, “Are you friends with your coworkers?” I’ve been wondering this since Sean tattled on me yesterday.

  Kane doesn’t seem bothered by the question. “We’re too busy to form friendships.”

  I study him, wishing I could read him like he seems to read me. He has no family, no friends. He must be a very lonely man.

  Kane notices the way I’m watching him. “I’m a loner at heart and enjoy it,” he says firmly.

  I think he’s lying, but I smartly keep that thought to myself.

  “What’s on the agenda today?” he asks, leaning back in his chair after pushing aside his empty plate.

  I give him a dry look.