by Chloe Walsh
"Yeah," I whispered, body burning with heat, as I wrapped my arms around his waist and tugged. I was tall for a woman, but this man made me feel tiny. He was just so tall, and strong and male. Craning my face up to look at his, I breathed, "I think I do."
"Seeing you tonight," he confessed, thumbs stroking my cheeks. "Lying on the ground, drenched in blood, with that bastard on top of you?" He clenched his jaw several times before he spoke again, "I've never been more goddamn scared in my life…. "He pressed a kiss to my cut and whispered, "And the only damn thing I could think was 'you're too late again'."
"Hunter." Unsure of what to say to comfort him, I pulled him closer to my body, unable to get close enough to the only place I wanted to be. "I'm okay." If I could crawl inside him right now, I would.
"Are you?" he asked in that direct way, blue eyes locked on mine, staring into the deepest part of my soul. "Because I'm not." He exhaled a shaky breath as he ran his hand through his hair. "It was like my world had ended right there in that kitchen," he admitted, voice torn and hoarse, before bowing his head. "And I keep thinking that when I go to sleep tonight, I'm gonna wake up in the morning and find you dead."
"That's not going to happen," I choked out. "I'm here. I'm real. We both are."
"I will keep you safe, sweetheart." he declared, hands cupping my face. Leaning closer, he stroked my nose with his. "Nothing's gonna touch you." When he looked at me again, there was a glint of unknown danger in those blue depths. "Never again," he promised, eyes glittering with treachery and darkness. "You have my word on that."
Heart racing, I could do nothing but reach up and cover his hands with mine.
The intimacy of this moment was too much.
It was all too much.
"I don’t want your word, Hunter," I whispered, entwining my fingers with his, as we stood in the street. "I just want you." A deep shudder rolled through my body and I had to take a moment. "What you did tonight?" I croaked out, finding my voice again. "What you did for me–"
"I did what needed to be done, HC," he cut me off by saying. "And I'm gonna keep doing what needs to be done. Taking care of business." I felt his thumb trail small circles across my cheekbone. "Making shit safe for you. Making you safe."
"What about you?" I blurted out. "Who's going to keep you safe?"
"I can take care of myself." He smiled, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes. "Been doing it for a long time now, sweetheart."
"Not anymore," I whispered. "Never again, in fact."
Hunter arched a brow. "What are you saying, HC?"
"I'm saying you have me."
And then I kissed him.
I heard the sound of tires screeching from somewhere nearby, but nothing could distract me from this moment – from him. Nothing could take me away from the man who had altered my world.
"Tomorrow," I whispered against his lips, making promises in the darkness. "I'll tell him tomorrow." I felt his body stiffen, and watched as his eyes clenched shut. "Don’t you believe me?"
"I believe you mean it tonight," he replied, voice hoarse, blue eyes piercing into mine.
"You'll see," I told him. It was like my heart had made the switch many months ago, right along the same time as my body, and my brain and pride were only catching up now. As for my conscience? It had been given its pink slip. Taking his hand in mine, I pulled it to my lips and kissed his raw knuckles. "I'm yours."
In a world full of uncertainty and pain, I knew I would go down in flames to keep this man safe. To be with him.
My heart demanded nothing less.
****
Chapter ten
Jordan
I watched, cold as the ice around my heart, as Hope strolled down Max Jones's porch steps, arm in arm with him.
This was it.
All the proof I needed.
I would never be enough for her.
I could never fill his shoes.
Straddling my bike, I unscrewed the cap on the half-empty fifth of Jack I'd bought on the way here and put the bottle to my lips.
I'd drank the first half of the bottle watching that bastard carry a body out of the Carter's house before burning off in his flashy wheels with Noah Messina.
Yeah, I might have fallen off the wagon in spectacular style, but I knew what I saw.
I knew what these people were capable of and it made me sick.
Fucking creatures.
Murderers.
He could take my wife, but I was going to take the bastard's freedom.
Silently, I raised my hand and toasted the woman who had taken the last bit of good in my life away.
With every mouthful of whiskey that slid down the back of my throat, I felt the final piece of my reason for surviving slip away.
Sex.
It was just sex.
When that burned out, what would she be left with?
A thug behind prison bars.
I wanted to hate her.
God, I wanted to hate her so badly, but the emotion wouldn’t come.
The only thing inside of me was love and pain and fear for her.
"Fuck love," I slurred to myself. "Fuck you!"
I was broken.
I needed to hate her.
She was lying to me, just like everyone else.
But the fear of losing her crippled me.
I watched him press my wife against the side of his truck.
And then they were kissing.
Frantically.
Bodies joined together.
Completely wrapped up in each other.
And I wanted to die.
Unable to stand another second of this torture, I tossed the bottle away and cranked my engine.
With bleary eyes and my head spinning, I tore off down the street, resolved.
My destination this time; the police station.
That bastard was going down.
****
Chapter Eleven
Hope
Dressed in one of Hunter's t-shirts, I sat on the bed I had run from less than twenty-four hours earlier, thumbs twiddling and knees bopping along to the rhythm of my haywire nerves.
I kept thinking that my time was running out.
How close I had come to being raped tonight?
It did something to me – to my mind.
I felt warped.
Like I had very suddenly been exposed to a part of this world I wanted no part of.
And then I kept thinking it wasn’t over.
That it was going to happen again.
That I was going to be raped and killed.
To be honest, I wasn’t sure which one was worse; the thought of being violated like that, or having the life forced out of my body.
When Hunter stepped out of the adjoining ensuite a little while later, dripping with water, a towel wrapped around his narrow hips, and his blond hair slicked back from his face, my heart sprang to life in my chest.
The fear threatening to consume me seemed to quieten when he was near. His mere presence forced the anxiety knotting my stomach to slither back to the hole it had crept out of.
I wanted this man and it didn’t seem to matter how or why.
I just did.
Somewhere deep down in my soul, he called out to me and, no matter how much I tried to block him out, his call still broke through.
There was no other place in the world I wanted to be in this moment than right here with him.
There was no logic to my actions, no good could come of this arrangement, and still I yearned... I ached.
That's why I needed to have him inside me.
Just him.
I needed him to replace the broken thoughts in my head, the thunderous pain in my heart.
I needed him to chase my demons away.
"Can't sleep, sweetheart?" Hunter asked as he walked over to his dresser and pulled open a drawer. I watched him slip on a pair of snug black boxer shorts. He turned to face me then, the embodiment of masculine virility.
The s
ight of him caused a sigh to escape my lips and I pressed my aching cheek to my shoulder.
The intensity, the yearning, the passion… I felt it all for this man.
It didn’t matter what we'd done tonight, or the secrets weighing heavily on our shoulders.
I still wanted him.
"No," I whispered, breathing hard and fast. "I was waiting for you."
His brows furrowed. "Hope, I didn’t bring you here for that, baby."
"I know," I croaked out, feeling the familiar rush of heat flood my body. "But I need that…" Swallowing deeply, I added, "I need you."
I watched him watch me, and no warning my brain was giving me was enough to stop my heart from hammering in my chest, screaming out for him, demanding I claim him as mine.
I wanted him to catch me because I was falling for him and I wasn’t going to be able to break my fall. I didn’t want to be brave. I didn’t want to be clever or smart. I wanted to fall helplessly in love with this man and not feel shame for it. The only place I felt like I could be who I truly was inside, was when I was in his arms.
Everything about this man was so foreign to me.
I was completely intrigued by it all.
Like how deftly he handled fire arms – as if he'd been doing it for years.
He was the definition of the apex predator, and I his willing victim.
"Why me, Hunter?" I asked, tone low, voice raspy.
He arched a brow in confusion. "Why you?"
"Yeah," I breathed, nodding slowly, never taking my eyes off his. "Why do you love me?"
"Because you're my best friend," his response was immediate and unwavering. "And I've never felt… a connection to another person like the connection I feel with you."
"Really?" I croaked out.
"I love you, Hope," he replied, soothing me with his certainty. "I think I've loved you since that very first day in Ireland." He shook his head, as if thinking back to that morning in Cork. "The minute you walked into Noah's hotel room after all hell had broken loose. You were all pissy and had smoke steaming out of your ears." He smirked at the memory. "I looked into your eyes that day and saw the girl inside. The one that reached me at a deeper level than anyone else. The girl hiding behind the mask of pretense. The girl that was screaming out for someone to save her." Hunter shrugged helplessly, giving me a rare glimpse of the vulnerability inside the man. "I saw you then, and I see you now."
I got it.
Understood his words.
I felt them too.
Right down in the deepest part of my heart.
"I'm not going back to him." Hunter opened his mouth to say something, but I quickly cut him off. "I mean it, Hunter." He needed to hear my truth. "I'm done with the lies and the hiding, and I am so over being that scared little girl you saw in Ireland," I whispered, trembling like an ivy leaf, as I watched him walk towards me. "I know you can't hear it tonight, but one of these days I'm going to tell you all about the crazy love I have in my heart for you."
Vulnerable and exposed, I stood up and pulled his t-shirt over my head. Clutching the fabric in my hands, I forced myself to look up at him.
To see and be seen.
My heart hammered in my chest, my blood bubbled in my veins, my air caught in my throat, but I did it.
I made myself face him.
I made myself find the courage to stand before him naked, giving him a piece of me no other had before.
I was so ready to shed this skin I'd been wearing my whole life; this cloak of lies that hid the real me.
"Because you deserve my truth," I strangled out, heart raging like a storm. "You deserve to hear all about the countless ways I love you."
Hunter reached a hand under my chin, tipping it upwards so he had a front row view into the deepest parts of my soul. "You're so fucking beautiful," he whispered, eyes burning into mine. "It's painful."
"Don’t let me go, okay?" I begged, clinging onto his shoulders for dear life. "Please don’t let this be for nothing." Swallowing deeply, I added, "I'm leaving my marriage for you. I'm leaving everything behind for you –"
His lips landed hard on mine then, his kiss a silent promise that I didn’t need to fear what was to come, because he was here, right here with me, standing beside me, ready to take the world and its mother down to keep us safe.
Broken and torn, I clung to his broad shoulders as we fell onto his bed, immersing myself in every vivid sensation and feeling that came with being in the arms of a man like him.
Hunter's hands roamed over my skin with such undiluted love and passion that I felt stripped down to the core. Every inch of my body shook; desire and emotion reducing me to a shuddering mess.
"I don’t want to hurt you," he groaned when his big body landed heavily down on mine, pressing me deeper into the mattress. "Never you."
"The only way you can hurt me is if you leave me," I whispered, wrapping my legs around his hips. Cradling his face between my hands, I pressed a kiss to his swollen lips and said, "Now show me how much you love me."
****
Chapter Twelve
Lucky
For the longest time, I sat on the edge of my bed and just watched her.
The moonlight pouring through my bedroom window allowed me to study the way her long dark lashes fanned her cheekbones as she slept, and her plump, full lips slightly parted as she exhaled every whimpered breath.
Her left eyelid blackened with every hour that passed.
And the scar on her face?
I'd spent half my life behind bars and I'd never seen anything so goddamn brutal.
Fucking butcher had scalped her to the goddamn bone.
Her face wasn’t the only part of her damaged either.
Her fragile wrists were bruised from the force he'd used on her.
There was a boot-sized bruise on her stomach, ugly and discolored.
As for her legs?
That fucking animal's fingerprints were carved into the flesh of her inner thighs.
From where he'd tried to pry them open.
My cell vibrated on my nightstand, just as I had anticipated.
Part of staying alive was predicting the other person's move, and up until tonight, I had been pretty fucking good at predicting trouble.
Not wanting to wake Hope, I slid out of bed, grabbed my phone, and padded into kitchen.
I stared at the words Blocked Caller on the screen before swiping my finger across it and putting it to my ear.
"Lucky Casarazzi," a smooth voice filled my ears. "My granddaughter's personal bodyguard."
I rolled my eyes at the endearment.
I had been around enough psychopaths to know that David Henderson wouldn’t stop.
What I had done tonight, killing that bastard, was the beginning.
My actions would excite the bastard.
I knew enough about the creep to know that his life's mission was to destroy Hope's father.
Targeting Hope was his mistake.
His last mistake.
"David Henderson," I replied in a slow drawl. "Your granddaughter's next deceased family member."
He chuckled down the line.
"Did you enjoy the show?" I added lazily.
My question threw him.
Like I knew it would.
Like I said; the key to survival was anticipating the opposition's move.
This wasn’t my first rodeo.
And a man as deranged as David would never have passed up the opportunity to watch his revenge pan out.
I figured that out before I ever stepped foot inside Thirteenth Street tonight.
The black Rover parked up the street was a rookie mistake on his part.
"Smart boy," he finally said.
"Can't say the same for you, I'm afraid," I shot back. "Fucking with my woman?" Reaching into the cupboard, I pulled out a pack of smokes. "Bad move, old man."
"Your woman?" David repeated, his tone one of wry amusement. "What happened to the addict husband?"
Placing a smoke between my lips, I flicked my lighter and sparked up. "She upgraded."
"Yes. She certainly did," he laughed.
"You know, this could've panned out so much better for you," I stated, taking a drag from my cigarette. "You were out. A free man. You could have lived the rest of your miserable life in relative peace." Exhaling a cloud of smoke, I hopped onto my kitchen island and said, "But now?" Flicking the ash off my smoke, I added, "Now, you're gonna spend your last days watching your back. That unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach? The one you're feeling right now? That feeling will haunt you. And that regret churning around inside your cold, black heart? The one that's telling you it's too late to turn back? Telling you that you sealed your fate tonight? That feeling is right."
"You honestly think you can scare me, boy?" he snarled, tone harder now, clearly rattled. "My own son tried to take me down," he added, laughing cruelly. "Do you know what happened? He failed. I've seen and heard it all before."
"You haven't seen nothing like me yet," I chuckled, my words laced with promise. "Or the shit-storm I'm gonna rain down on you."
"Is that a threat?"
"More of a friendly forewarning," I replied "And here's another; enjoy the time you've got left, Davy-boy, because I'm coming for you."
With that, I ended the call and tossed my cell down on the counter beside me.
Goddamn, I had never felt the need for vengeance more than I did in this very moment.
I knew what had to happen.
David Henderson had to die.
I wasn’t naïve enough to believe I could bring him down single-handed.
I couldn’t do this alone; the man had his fingers stuck in too many cookie jars.
This world was littered with dirty cops and corrupt courtrooms, and David Henderson was on a first name basis with every last one.
Intelligent play was the only play in this game of cat and mouse.
That was the only way to beat him.
To flush him out, I would have to become a ghost.
In order to do that, I needed a pack.