Hunter: A Snow White and the Huntsman Variation (Stud Ranch Standalone Romances Book 1)

by Stasia Black

  “Shut the fuck up!” Isobel spun back around and flew at her stepmother. Her hands wrapped around Catrina’s throat. She slammed the older woman down against the counter. “Shut up, shut up!” Rage like she’d never known burned so hot, Isobel could barely breathe.

  Poison. The woman was poison.

  Every day her insults chipped away at Isobel. First when she was just a little girl. All throughout adolescence. Even when her father was dying. Still every single day, Catrina never let up. And now to find out she was actively undermining her recovery, trying to trigger her old demons—!

  Isobel screamed and squeezed harder.

  Catrina smiled at her at first, even while she was choking. Like she was laughing at Isobel, even in this.

  But as Isobel kept squeezing, finally fear came into Catrina’s eyes. Catrina’s hands flailed, trying to latch onto Isobel’s wrists and pull her off.

  Isobel was stronger, though. She felt fucking triumphant. Catrina would never torment her again.

  But then she blinked.

  What was she—

  She looked down in horror at her hands.

  Her hands that were around another person’s throat.

  Choking the life out of her.

  Isobel let go of Catrina and stumbled backwards.

  Catrina fell to the floor, hoarsely gasping in huge gulps of air between coughing fits.

  Holy Jesus, what had she just done?

  Isobel looked at her hands in disbelief. Had she really almost just… Oh God. Oh God oh God oh God.

  “They’ll put you away for this,” Catrina gasped, still clutching her throat.

  Isobel turned and ran out of the kitchen.

  Run.

  She had to get out of here.

  Run.

  Right now.

  Catrina would call the police any minute. They’ll put you away. Catrina hated her. And Isobel had just given her stepmother the perfect opportunity to get rid of her for good.

  An attempted murder charge.

  Isobel felt sick as she fled upstairs to get her purse and car keys.

  She was about to pick up her phone to toss it in her purse when she stopped at the last second. It was easy for people to track phones, right?

  Shit, was she really thinking like that? Like a fugitive?

  She looked toward the ceiling. How had everything gotten fucked sideways so quickly? She shook her head and took a quick breath in, trying to steady herself. There was no time. No time for thinking. No time for anything.

  She jammed some clothes and shoes in a bag, grabbed her keys, and was almost out her door when she stopped.

  “Shit.”

  She turned around and ran back into the bathroom. She’d almost forgotten her anti-depressants. She grabbed the pill bottle from the medicine cabinet. Had she even taken them today? With as fucked up as her moods had been lately, the last thing she needed was to be screwing with her medication.

  She unscrewed the lid and poured one of the small pills into her hand. Not that it was helping much. She’d been so stable for years and then for it to all go down the shitter so drastically—

  She reached for a glass of water and as she did, she knocked the bottle of pills over, spilling them out on the counter.

  “Fuck!” She did not have time for this. Had Catrina already called the cops?

  But as she started scooping the little pills back into the bottle, she paused. Some of them didn’t look right.

  A bunch of the tablets had a little line down the middle where you could split them in half if you needed to. But about half of them didn’t have the line.

  “What the hell?”

  She reached down and flipped one of the non-lined pills over, thinking maybe they were just lined on one side.

  But nope, the lined ones were lined on both sides and others were smooth on both sides.

  Isobel’s eyes flipped back and forth between the two pills, nothing making sense for a long moment.

  But like downstairs, it eventually dawned on her and she swung in the direction of her door. The same killing fury as earlier made her fists shake all over again.

  “Bitch!” she screamed.

  It would have served Catrina right if Isobel hadn’t stopped earlier. She’d been fucking with Isobel’s medication in addition to adding the protein powder to her smoothies?

  Isobel’s hand shook as she swept all the pills back into the bottle. Had Catrina switched out half her meds with sugar pills so she’d only be taking half her regular dosage? Or were they something worse? Something meant to make her moods more volatile?

  What the fuck? Why?

  Was Catrina just a fucking psychopath who got off on tormenting people and Isobel had always been the closest, convenient target? Isobel’s adolescence had been hell. It started almost as soon as Catrina moved in after the wedding. The snide comments about Isobel’s looks just got more and more nasty as time went on. But only when no one was around.

  Isobel cried and ran to her dad about it in the beginning. Catrina of course denied everything. They sent Isobel to Dr. Rubenstein and he didn’t believe her either. He told her father it was normal for kids to ‘act out’ when significant changes were introduced in a household.

  Dad grew less and less tolerant of Isobel’s complaints and by the end of Catrina’s first year with them, Isobel knew it was useless to say anything. Which just made Catrina more vicious since she knew she could get away with it. Dad traveled a lot for his import/export business. He always told Isobel how all he wanted was for her and Catrina to get along. That was one of the reasons he had wanted to remarry in the first place. He wanted Isobel to have a female role model to look up to since Mom was gone.

  Too bad Catrina was a vicious hell-whore.

  Isobel stared at the pill bottle.

  It was evidence.

  For once she had evidence. It wasn’t just Catrina’s word against hers.

  Then she started laughing hysterically.

  Because no, that wasn’t true. This wasn’t any different than it had ever been. What did Isobel have? A bottle of some unknown pills? With her luck, Catrina would get her booked on assault and possession for whatever the hell was in this bottle. After all, there was nothing tying the pills to Catrina. Did Isobel think she’d find Catrina’s fingerprints on the bottle or something?

  Even if she did, that was hardly a smoking gun. Catrina could just say that she’d picked up the bottle from the pharmacy for her stepdaughter, so of course her fingerprints were on it.

  Isobel was well and truly fucked. She hiccupped, something between a laugh and a sob. Her hands shook as she pushed her hair out of her face.

  Back to the original plan. Get the hell out of here.

  And go where, exactly?

  Fuck knew. She’d figure that part out later.

  She ran to the other room and picked up the bag she’d haphazardly stuffed full of clothes and her purse. On a whim, she also grabbed her riding boots from her closet since the time she’d been happiest in her life was when she’d worked in the stables near their house in New Hampshire. She clutched it all to her chest as she ran down the stairs and out the back door.

  Catrina hadn’t been anywhere in sight, thank God.

  Isobel ran toward her little Toyota parked in their narrow garage. Her hands were trembling so badly, it took her three tries to get her key in the lock. She finally managed. She jumped in the car. A few seconds later, she had it in reverse and was peeling out onto the street.

  “Okay,” she whispered to herself as she wove through Manhattan’s night traffic. “Okay, you’re okay. You’re okay.”

  So what if she had no clue where she was going? Starting from the shit show she’d just left behind, things could only be looking up from here, right?

  Right?

  Chapter 2

  HUNTER

  “It’s good to see you out and about, Hunter,” Bubba said, looking Hunter over as he sat his beer in front of him.

  Hunter just n
odded without comment. He hated coming out to town for just this reason—that look of pity on everyone’s faces when they talked to him. Even after more than a year. Drinking at home alone was even more depressing, though, so here he was.

  Last week was the one year anniversary of Janine leaving him. What was the quote from that movie he loved—get busy living or get busy dying? It was from the Shawshank Redemption, a movie about being in prison. Which was what his house had felt like lately. He’d had enough of holing up there by himself. He was sick of the silence. He used to find the quiet of country living calming. Peaceful.

  But for the past year all he heard was the absence of her voice. Man, she’d always been complaining about something. The hot water ran out too quickly. She hated the mosquitos in the spring. The gravel driveway meant her car was perpetually dirty. Not that she had anywhere to go where a nice car would be noticed.

  It was funny how the things that drove you nuts about a person ended up being the things you missed most.

  Or maybe he was just a damn fool. Sentimental. Nostalgic.

  What he probably really missed was her body warm beside his in the bed at night. The way he could roll over and kiss the nape of her neck, and, no matter how ornery she’d been that day, her body would go all soft. How she’d open her legs and grasp his ass and pull him into her.

  Even when they were both furious with each other, they could still communicate that way. By the end, it seemed like the only thing they had left. Stony silences all evening would give way to furious lovemaking at night. Biting and clawing as she brought him to the brink. Clinging to him for the briefest moment of their mutual climax like there was some hope, some future for them.

  And then pulling away the second it was done, sometimes going to sleep on the couch like she couldn’t stand his touch a second longer.

  He’d never understood her. But he hadn’t been able to ask her why she did it—why she kept coming to bed each night only to wrench herself away right afterwards. At first he thought it was because she loved him. But eventually he realized it was to punish him. Yet another reminder that he might have his ring on her finger but she’d never truly be his.

  Hunter’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out to check who was calling. There was never a night off when you were the only large animal veterinarian within two counties.

  Mom flashed across the screen. Hunter’s face soured. Jesus, if there was anyone worse than people in town staring at him with pity it was Mom with her cheer-Hunter-up routine. She meant well. He knew she did. But he could only handle so much enforced cheer a week and he’d already spent most of Sunday at her and Pops’ house. He let the call ring out since she’d know being sent to voicemail after a couple rings meant he’d rejected her call.

  When it finally stopped buzzing, he shook his head. Jesus, coming out tonight wasn’t helping anything. He’d still been fixating on Janine as much as he ever did at home. And these bar stools were damn uncomfortable.

  He set his beer back on the bar and turned sideways on his stool so he could reach into his back pocket to grab his wallet when he saw the door to the bar open.

  And in walked the most stunning woman. She had long black hair that was pulled back in a slick ponytail. Her face was flawless. Porcelain skin, big blue eyes. Heart-shaped face, pink lips.

  Unlike most of the women in the bar, she wasn’t dressed like she was looking to get noticed. She was wearing a dark t-shirt and jeans—not too tight but just enough to show she had curves in all the right places. Also unlike everyone else in the bar, Hunter didn’t recognize her. Unusual in a town the size of Hawthorne, which was barely a blip on the map.

  Apparently everyone else found her just as interesting because half the bar had turned to stare at her.

  Shit. Hunter knew that feeling. Hunter hated that feeling.

  He turned back to the bar and took another sip of his abandoned beer. He was just about to reach for his wallet again when the woman sat down on the barstool beside him.

  He froze, hands on his mug of beer. Had she seen him and come down to sit by him specifically or had she just randomly chosen an empty seat at the bar?

  He watched her out of his periphery and she didn’t so much as glance his way. Yeah, wishful thinking, jackass.

  Still, he didn’t go for his wallet again.

  The woman glanced up and down the bar. Bubba was bartending tonight, along with Jeff. Jeff was at the other end of the bar, making an ass of himself like usual while Cherry and Lacey hung on his every word. Cherry was leaned half over the bar top, her cleavage so low he bet Jeff could see her belly button.

  The newcomer smiled and shook her head a little at the scene, like it amused her in some way. Bubba finally finished mixing drinks and handing them off to Mary who was waitressing tonight and then came over to the woman.

  Bubba was as much an institution as his bar. A big man with a belly to match, he had a long gray beard and a ride or die tattoo on his knuckles that pretty much said it all.

  The woman didn’t look intimidated by him though. She just smiled back at him when he turned to her and asked, “What can I get you, beautiful?”

  She hesitated a moment, like she was about to order something but then reconsidered. She tilted her head sideways, showing off the long curve of her neck. “What do you have on tap?”

  Bubba listed off several beers and she chose a dark IPA.

  Hunter sipped at his beer and pretended to be minding his own business while Bubba served her up a big glass of dark beer. She took a long sip, licking the foam off her lips at the end.

  Hunter swallowed hard and averted his eyes.

  “Ah, that hits the spot,” she said after another long sip. “Is the kitchen still open?”

  “Till ten,” Bubba answered. “What can I get for ya?”

  She was quiet a moment, then blurted, “I’d kill for a burger,” like it was a confession she was admitting to a priest.

  “My kind of lady. Beer and burgers. Coming right up.” Bubba turned and walked to the end of the bar where it connected to the kitchen to put in her order. Hunter couldn’t help his eyes seeking her out again as she sank back on her stool, taking another long sip from her beer.

  But then his vision was blocked by Larry leaning on the bar between Hunter and the woman. Larry was in his late forties and had been a teacher at the high school before he got fired for showing up to school drunk.

  “I agree with Bubba,” Larry slurred, obviously drunk. He smelled like a damn brewery. “It’s sexy seeing a woman who knows how she likes her beer. With plenty of head.”

  Son of a—

  “I’m Lawrence.”

  There was no response from the woman. Hunter imagined her giving Larry a cold, “fuck off, I’m not interested” face.

  “So you’re new in town,” Larry persisted, shouldering between Hunter and the woman even more.

  “This is a small town. Everyone knows everyone. So when a bombshell like you walks in…” Larry paused, “…well, it’s hard not to notice. Hard being the operative word, if you get what I mean.”

  All right, that was enough.

  But the woman seemed fully capable of standing up for herself.

  “Whoa whoa whoa,” Hunter heard her say. He still couldn’t see because of Larry blocking his vision, but from the way Larry was leaning in, he had to be crowding the woman.

  Her firm voice was clear. “I’m not interested. You need to back up. Now.”

  Larry’s body moved sharply like she might have shoved him, but he had a firm grip on the bar top and he barely budged.

  “What?” Larry said, a nasty tone entering his voice. “I’m just being friendly, don’t be a—”

  Hunter had had it.

  “She said she’s not interested.” Hunter yanked the back of Larry’s collar, choking him and knocking him off balance until he stumbled backward and landed on his ass.

  Hunter was already on his feet, standing between the red-faced Larry and the woma
n still sitting on the stool behind him.

  “Get the hell out of here before I call Marie,” Hunter threatened.

  Larry blanched and struggled to get to his feet.

  “And call a cab or I’ll call her anyway.”

  Larry nodded and stumbled off toward his table.

  Larry was mostly harmless but there was nothing Hunter hated more than men who disrespected women.

  He turned around to apologize to the woman and her eyes jerked up almost guiltily. Had she been checking out his ass? Hunter bit back a smile.

  “Sorry about him.”

  She just waved a hand and took a long pull of her beer. Too big a swig, it turned out, because she was immediately choking and spraying beer all over the bar top.

  Hunter jumped forward and pounded her back several times. “Are you okay?”

  She coughed again but nodded, grabbing a napkin to wipe her mouth and then, discretely, the bar top.

  “I’m fine,” she gasped when she could finally breathe through her windpipe again. She took another sip of beer to soothe the last of her coughing fit. Then she winced. “I don’t suppose you could ignore the part where I was just the bar’s own personal beer geyser? I haven’t been let out in polite society for a while and apparently I’m rusty at it.” She smiled self-deprecatingly and Hunter couldn’t think of the last time he’d seen anyone more charming or lovely.

  “So,” she said when the silence had gone on long enough to be awkward. Shit. Talking. He was supposed to be talking here. He should say something witty. Engaging.

  He had nothing.

  “Is Marie his wife?” she asked.

  It took him a second to realize what she was asking and he finally shook his head with a smirk. “Larry wishes. No, she’s the sheriff.”

  “Oh.” She looked a little surprised. “I take it Lawrence has had a few run ins with the law?”

  Hunter gave an eye roll. “I think he spent more nights in the drunk tank last year than he did at home. Marie got so tired of hauling his ass in she started playing death metal all night on full blast at the station, which, from what I understand, is hell when you’ve got a hangover.” He smiled. “Most nights Larry gets himself home now before getting too sloppy.”