Hunter

by Blaire Drake

  I was getting more and more confused by the minute. I didn't entirely understand why Isaiah was actually here, except to convince my father that he'd take care of me. And not in a good way. Everyone was too relaxed, too chilled over the whole situation, and that made me more uncomfortable than if everyone was waiting for something to happen.

  I felt like I was the only one waiting for it. I didn't like it.

  “I'll be right back,” I said, standing and hugging the bag to my front. Three pairs of eyes watched me as I walked into the house.

  Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I was paranoid.

  Maybe there was no 'maybe' about it. I felt a little paranoid. Like every corner I turned someone was waiting to kill me.

  See. This was why I wanted to go to New York before now. But no. Wait, they said. It's a silly idea, they said. Even Hunter, who agreed to take me, said to wait. I didn't want to wait. I was tired of waiting. I wanted to do something.

  I wanted to watch a bullet pierce my father's skin and the light leave his eyes.

  I wanted to punish him for trying to sell me, then kill me, and for stealing everything that belonged to me. It was a dark desire, morally wrong, but I didn't care. There was no such thing as morals in this world. If you had morals, you had a target on your back. It was that simple.

  “Addy?”

  “I just... I need a minute, okay?” I turned to Hunter.

  His piercing silver eyes locked onto mine. “What's wrong?”

  “This whole situation. Don't you think it's incredibly fucked?” I tightened my grip on the bag strap. “Two of my father's men have just decided to switch sides? Am I expected to believe it's this cut and dry? This fucking simple, huh?”

  “Maybe it is.” He shrugged. “Enzio isn't well liked. I can't say I'm surprised.”

  “Well I am.” My fingers hurt, I was holding the bag so tightly. “I don't think it's this simple. I don't trust Isaiah. I don't think he's telling the truth.”

  “Really? The getaway bag didn't clue me into that,” he said. Sarcasm dripped from every word, and he half-smirked.

  “Fuck you, Hunter. This isn't a joke. You don't know that he came alone. For all you know, he's lying, and just because he said he's alone doesn't mean he is.”

  “I know, I know. I'm not sure he is lying, though. I think he genuinely hates your father.”

  “That doesn't mean he's not here to kill me,” I argued.

  Hunter closed the distance between us and cupped my chin. “Do you really think I'd let him?”

  “You wouldn't have a choice if he killed you first.”

  “You've really thought this through, haven't you?”

  I nodded. “I'm not much use to myself if I haven't. If he's going to kill me, he's going to kill you first because he knows you'll protect me. And if he didn't come alone, then, well. We're both fucked, aren't we?”

  He tilted his head to the side, dropping his hand. “If you're really worried about this, why aren't you at the Pontarelli house? You'd be much safer there.”

  Because I know you can protect me alone better than all of them put together.

  “Gaige,” he said, half-correctly. “You don't want us near each other.”

  I shrugged one shoulder. “I guess.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you'll probably kill each other, and then you're no good to me?”

  “Right. Like he'd get the first shot in.”

  “And that right there is exactly why you're not there.”

  Hunter reached forward and took hold of the bag. He gently pried my fingers off of it, took it, and set it on the coffee table. “Adriana.” He rested his hands against my cheeks.

  He wanted me to listen. He always did that. Always had. Except now I was getting too used to the roughness of his palms against my skin, too used to how his fingers would brush my hairline and the way his thumb would ghost over my mouth every now and then.

  Too used to how he made my skin tingle each and every time he touched me.

  “I don't like Gaige Pontarelli. I'm not going to lie to you about that. But if being at the Pontarelli house means you'll be safer until we can figure out how to get rid of your dad, then that's where you need to be.” His eyes searched mine. “Even if it means I have to stay away from you.”

  My heart, the fickle bitch, clenched at the thought. I didn't want him to stay away. I'd missed him so badly it was as though I'd left a piece of my soul behind when we left. I'd just gotten him back, even if he was different than I remembered, but he was still my Hunter deep down.

  “Maybe that's the reason I'm not at the Pontarelli house,” I said quietly. “Because then you don't have to stay away.”

  “Adriana,” he whispered, drawing me closer to him. “You have to put your safety first. I'm replaceable. You're not.”

  I threw his arms off of my face and stepped back, bumping into the windowsill. “Maybe you are in your mind, but in my mind, you're not. Don't you get that, Hunter? You're irreplaceable to me. You always have been and you always will be. No one could ever take your place in my life, and I don't give a flying, monkey-screwing fuck what you say. I would rather put my life at risk to spend an hour with you than be safe and never see your smug goddamn face again!”

  His inhale was sharp. “You're emotional. You're not listening to reason.”

  “Just like yesterday then, huh? When I was too emotional to stop you from screwing my fucking brains out?”

  “Stop!” he yelled harshly, diving his hand into his hair. He met my eyes with his, and I shivered as the intensity of his gaze swept over me with the force of a category five hurricane. “I would rather live the rest of my life knowing you're alive and never seeing you again. You never stopped being everything to me, Addy. Fucking never. You just stopped being there, but you never stopped being here.” He punches his chest. “You were always there, and you always will be. Stop being so fucking stubborn and keep yourself hidden from that piece of shit, for the love of fucking God!”

  My heart thundered in my own chest, and annoyance bundled deep in my stomach. Call me stupid, and maybe I was, but there was no way I was going to live without him any longer. Above everything, he was my best friend, and I loved him unconditionally. Even when he was being a giant, sexy prick.

  “No.” I stood tall and stared him right in the eye. Determination flooded my veins as reality sunk deep into my body.

  It hit me then.

  My mother was the queen.

  That was my destiny.

  I was forever intended to be the head of this family. She knew somehow—I knew it in that moment. Like a whisper she'd given me beyond all doubt.

  “No.” Two letters, so small. “I won't hide from him anymore. I have nothing to hide from. Everything he has belongs to me. It's my fucking empire. My fucking business. My. Fucking. Family. It never will be his. Enzio Costella will never be a fucking Romano. They're my blood, and blood doesn't lie. The Romanos are mine.”

  Hunter walked toward me, but before he could touch me, I grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him against me.

  “And you will respect that choice, Carlo. I don't want to say it again, and I'll be fucked if I'm going to. You will respect my choice and you will do what I want you to. You say you don't play, well I'm done with the game, too. My life is not motherfucking Monopoly. Is that clear enough for you?”

  I didn't know where the words came from. They exploded out of me with the force of a bomb. They were uncontrollable and harsh, but I knew deep inside me that they were true.

  My life wasn't a game.

  My family wasn't a game.

  I wasn't going to be a pawn anymore.

  I was done playing. The fucking waltz my father had me playing was going to end—and the final one-two-three would be mine.

  Hunter reached up, his eyes hardening, and grasped my hand. The one that had wound itself inside the fabric of his shirt. “Understood. Boss.”

  I tugged him toward me, my lips curving up. “T
hat's Principessa to you, Cacciatore.”

  His hand wrapped around the back of my neck. “In that case, doubly understood, Principessa.”

  I glanced up and met his eyes. “Good.”

  Our lips were dangerously close when I heard, “Fucking hell. She's Alexandria two-point-oh.”

  I jerked back from Hunter and looked at Isaiah. I looked at his hands, but he wasn't holding any kind of weapon. In fact, he looked relieved. “I don't understand.”

  He grinned. “Dar.”

  Darien appeared from behind him, and in that moment, they looked like twins. He sighed and sadness glinted in his gaze. “Twenty-two years ago, when you were no more than a baby, your mother's reign over the family was questioned. She couldn't perform her full duties as head of the family with a baby. She needed to marry your father, and you know what she did, bambina?” He smiled. “She pinned your father to the wall, a gun to his neck, and demanded he married her.”

  “And he did,” Isaiah continued. “He had no choice. He married her in that moment, or she swore she'd shoot him. And despite this one's skills,” he cocked a thumb toward Hunter, “if you wanted to kill him, I'd have no doubt you'd have that gun out of that bag and to his head quicker than he could draw his.”

  I snapped my eyes from Isaiah to Hunter. His hand was at his hip, and I elbowed him before snatching the very same pistol he'd just tried to grip. I aimed it at his breastbone, and he held his arms up to the sound of both Darien and Isaiah's raucous laughter.

  “You won't shoot it,” Hunter says with a quiet laugh.

  “Won't I?” My words were like stone, and he stilled as my finger tightened over the trigger. “Maybe I'm not like you. Maybe I'm stronger.”

  Hunter reached out and wrapped his fingers around the barrel of the gun. “So do it.”

  A gunshot fired.

  I lied.

  Several fired.

  My heart stopped.

  My world shattered like a glass.

  Blood and tears streamed.

  Hunter knocked the gun from my hand and pulled me to the ground. I gasped as my chest hit the carpet, but he reached forward and pressed a finger to his lips as several other shots rang out.

  “Get up and run,” he ordered, tugging at me. He snatched up the pistol and tugged me behind me. “Fuck, Is, run!” he yelled, shoving me.

  I understood.

  I grabbed the bag and ran.

  I ran like fucking hell down the hall.

  Hunter followed, his arm outstretched, bullets firing from his gun.

  “Dar—Isaiah,” I breathed.

  “I don't know. Just fucking run!” his voice was so loud it echoed, louder than the shots that echoed off the walls.

  I whimpered as I saw a bullet ricochet off the hallway wall, millimeters from where I'd just been standing. Hunter's arm flew out and slammed into me. I barely stayed on my feet long enough to pull the 9mm out of my bag and shoot it.

  I watched as the bullet pierced the chest of a man in black and he dropped to the floor.

  “Addy,” Hunter rasped, “Can we get out?”

  I looked around. We'd backed into my room. “Yes.”

  “Then get us the fuck out.”

  I grabbed his arm and pulled him to the window. I shot at the door when I heard Darien yell, followed by a gunshot. My heart tightened, but Hunter shoved the glass pane open before I could yell my annoyance.

  He jumped out onto the garage roof and held his hand out for me. I had no choice, so I grasped the rucksack tightly and followed him out. I stopped to shut the window after me, and he said nothing as he jumped off the rood and tucked his gun into his hip.

  I put my own pistol back inside the bag, clicking the safety on before I did, and jumped into his arms.

  He caught me, lowering me to the ground softer than I would have expected, and placed a helmet on top of my head quickly.

  Oh fuck me.

  Chapter Twelve - Hunter

  She looked terrified.

  The bravado and determination she'd shown just minutes ago had quickly morphed into a 'fucking run' instinct that radiated from her with her fear. Her bright blue eyes were wide with shock, as though she couldn't believe what was happening.

  I gripped her hand tightly. I'd parked my bike just away from the house for a reason, and this was it.

  I didn't trust Isaiah either.

  “What about—”

  “He'll be fine,” I said to her, taking the bag she'd been holding so tightly for so long and hooking the straps over her arms. I hoped I wasn't lying to her. “Get on behind me.”

  A noise that resembled a tortured cat eeked out of her mouth.

  “No offense, Adriana, but the bike is less likely to kill you than the fuckers in there.” I got on and patted the seat behind me.

  “Fine.” She wasn't happy about it, but when another gunshot shattered a window somewhere, she leaped onto the back and wrapped her arms around my waist. “A car is safer!” she yelled when I kick-started the bike.

  “And slower! Hold on tight.”

  She screamed as I revved the bike to full power and we took off. Her grip around my waist was almost suffocating, and if this weren't a life or fucking death situation, I'd be thinking about the way her tits were pressing against my back.

  Fuck, maybe I was. A little. Even in the face of potential death, I was still a guy, and she was still insanely fucking sexy.

  The gates were open when we reached the edge of the community, and although I couldn't hear anyone following us, I wasn't dumb enough to think we were anywhere near safe. The bike wasn't exactly the quietest or most inconspicuous vehicle. They'd know instantly who'd taken her and what to look for.

  I needed to get us to a rental place and switch for a car.

  The only problem was getting to the rental place.

  Adriana pressed her face into my back as we sped through the city, weaving in and out of traffic. I glanced in my mirror and saw another bike behind us. It looked to be following the same path I was, and red flags popped up instantly in my mind.

  I clenched my jaw. Shit. I really didn't want to risk shooting blindly—especially not with Addy behind me, and it wasn't like I could get her in front of me to drive.

  She was right. We should have gotten a car.

  Too late now.

  “Don't panic, okay?” I said back to her, reaching inside my jacket.

  “For what?” she shrieked, clearly panicking.

  “This.” I reached behind me, used the mirror to aim, and shot.

  “Fuck, Hunter!”

  I didn't hit the guy on the bike, but I was close enough that he swerved and almost lost control of his bike. Too many cars got between us for me to take another shot, so I tucked the gun into Adriana's hand at my stomach and focused on driving.

  I needed to get us somewhere safe. And quickly.

  Unfortunately, I couldn't go much quicker than I was, and there was a red light coming up.

  Fuck it. It was probably the best law I was gonna break today. In my life, if I was honest with myself.

  I had no idea where we were going. I wasn't familiar with California at all, and I couldn't exactly pull out my phone and map a route to somewhere safe, mostly because I had no fucking idea where 'safe' was.

  Where the fuck was 'safe?'

  I drove. I didn't know where I was going or what was going to happen, but I knew I needed to get as far as away from Calabasas as possible. Somewhere busy. Somewhere we could hide out for the shortest amount of time—where even Enzio's fuckhead idiots wouldn't dare touch her.

  We whizzed past a sign that told me we'd traveled so far that we were only five miles outside of downtown Los Angeles.

  That answered my question.

  I got into the right lane and turned off. When we came to stop at a light, I took the gun from Adriana and tucked it back into my jacket. Driving around downtown L.A with a gun in her hand struck me as a pretty stupid idea, and I wasn't in the habit of stupid ideas. Unless you co
unted not shooting the girl currently on the back of my bike—and I didn't.

  “Look out for a rental place,” I said behind her as the lights changed.

  I vaguely heard her “Okay,” as I revved the bike and wound in and out of the cars. The traffic was so insane it made New York City seem like an empty highway to nowhere. This was both good and bad for us. Bad because we seemed to stop more than we moved, but good because there were so many bikes that we'd be hard to pick out.

  Thank god for the plain black bag Adriana had.

  It felt like an hour had passed by the time we finally made it into the center and drove past a rental store. I pulled up outside it, but I hadn't even killed the engine when I heard Adriana protest.

  “No. Three blocks away, on Century Boulevard,” she said, her hands twitching on my abs. “The Pontarelli's run it. I need to get a message to them if they don't already know.”

  My stomach clenched at the name—or maybe it was just the way she gripped my t-shirt and her nails lightly scratched me—but I nodded and pushed off again, seamlessly flowing back into the traffic. I understood, but I didn't like it.

  At least I understood, I reasoned with myself. I didn't have to. I could have refused until she ordered me to, but I wasn't going to take orders from her.

  I didn't care if her blood outranked mine.

  I didn't take orders from a woman.

  Unless that order was to bend her over and fuck her mercilessly.

  I was all about that kind of order.

  I pulled up outside the Pontarelli rental place a few minutes later, and Adriana could barely wait to step off the bike. She practically jumped off it and wrenched the helmet from her head. My lips twitched at the birds nest it had almost become, and she glared at me with her gorgeous eyes as she patted it down.

  I climbed off the bike, pulled the keys, and stepped in front of her. She had one crazy lock of hair she'd missed, so I ran my fingers through the dark strands, calming them until they fell in line with the rest of her hair.

  I loved it when she had her hair free like this. She looked powerful, almost. Beautiful—undoubtedly. But powerful. Her hair framed her face so loosely and softly that it lent a special kind of shine to her eyes.