Hunte

by Warren, Rie

  “That was a close call, Tonto.”

  “Yeah. You look like hell.” He knocked a glass against mine.

  “Not funny.”

  “I forgot my bomb training, okay?”

  “Still not funny.”

  “I never was.”

  “True that.” I drained my whiskey then shook his hand hard. After tonight there was no doubt about it. He’d earned a healthy dose of my respect despite my earlier reservations. “What’d you blow up, anyway?”

  “Your Tahoe,” he said, with no inflection at all.

  He followed me as I stalked outside. I sniffed after the trail of smoke and found the hulking remains of my SUV in the vacant lot behind the clubhouse. He wasn’t kidding.

  “Moved it back here so as not to cause collateral damage, you know?” He lit a cigarette and added that to the stink of my charred truck.

  Collateral damage? Never mind my fucking Tahoe had just been smoked. Too bad I owed the fucker, and not just a punch in the head.

  When we reentered Retribution, Brodie ambled up. “Do you want a hand with that?”

  That was Vicente’s dead body. “No. Walker and I got this.”

  I dispatched Cole on a small errand to check on Mel and Jack then get back to me pronto, and Walker and I disposed of the body just like we always had. No muss, no fuss, and no trace to be found. We parted ways at the MC with Walker on the way back to my place.

  I located Boomer inside. The man didn’t look shook-up at all after the night’s events, but his severe blue gaze tracked me as I approached.

  “My truck is toast. You want to give me a lift to JB’s house?” I asked.

  His unyielding features relaxed as he realized what I was offering him. “Let me grab my keys.”

  Inside the huge GMC Topkick pickup, the inked-out windows reflected my likeness, but I wasn’t in the mood for too much introspection. “This is some serious metal.”

  “Chrome and Steele for you, I guess. Into engines anyway we can get them.” Boomer glanced at me, guiding the steering wheel with his wrist.

  I snorted. “Yeah. Too bad my truck is DOA.”

  “I’ll get it towed to the junkyard tomorrow. Walker really blew it up?”

  I swiped a hand across my mouth, hiding a smile. “Yeah, he did.”

  “Huh. That’s kind of funny.” His shoulders shook with quiet mirth.

  When he stopped in front of Jessica’s, he said, “I’ll wait here then ’til you send Rayce out.”

  “Right on. Thanks for tonight, man.”

  “Well, you’re one of ours, and so is JB. She’s a good one, you know?”

  I knew that down to the depths of my soul, and with the darkness she’d lifted from it.

  It was well past midnight when I walked inside. Rayce waited in the cozy little kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee. “I just came down. She can’t get warm, Hunter.”

  Rayce looked shaky herself.

  “She’s in shock. I’ll take care of her. You head on home now. Got you a ride since I don’t think you should be driving anymore tonight.” Opening the door, I walked her out to Boomer who leaned against the bulky, kick-your-ass truck.

  “I don’t need a ride.” Rayce immediately protested, shoving both hands through her blue-streaked hair. It stood up in tufts and her eyebrows curled down in a defiant frown.

  “Considering what happened tonight, I’m not about to let you go off on your own. So get in before I put you in myself.” Boomer’s voice came out in a chest-deep rumble.

  “Why should I?”

  Wiping his hands over his face, he finally showed the strain of the night and a sudden weakness, only for Rayce. “Because I’d like to see you home safe instead of staying up all night worrying about you.”

  I left the pair to it. Quietly padding upstairs in Jessica’s house, I slipped into her bedroom. Eyes like big black stones in her ghost-pale face, she sat on the very edge of her bed. Seeing me, she dropped the quilt from around her shoulders and rushed at me.

  I caught her in my arms. “Okay, sweetheart?” Guilt twisted inside me, tangled with relief, and finally, the most overwhelming love.

  Rayce was right. Jessica’s skin was cold, and she wore only a light robe. She must’ve showered—her hair was damp, the ends curling up, and she smelled like flowers.

  She drew back, her mouth pinched at the edges. “I was so worried about you!”

  “Me? What about you?” Pulling her with me, I sat in the middle of the bed. When I had her on my lap, I touched her all over, making sure she was there, she was all right. “I thought my heart would stop, Jessica. When Vicente . . . when he threatened you, I thought I’d die.” I lay down with her, drawing the covers over us, warming her with my body heat.

  “Me too, about you.” Her head lifted, her eyes shimmering. “Don’t you do that to me again, Hunter.”

  “Fuck.” I kissed her hard and fast. “I don’t intend to.”

  “Are Jack and Mel okay, baby?” Smoothing her hands down my arms, she lifted my swollen knuckles to her lips.

  “Yeah. It’s good. They’re untouched. He . . . he didn’t go after them.” I choked through the emotion, wrapping her in my embrace and holding onto her. I gave her my heat and she her softness.

  “It’s over. Really over now?” Jessica pressed closer.

  “Done. Forever. Did he hurt you?” I pulled away enough to make sure her cheek wasn’t swollen and the scratch on her throat from the knife was no more than that.

  “He could have. I’m not sure he would have. He . . . they . . . caught up to me when I was driving home. Blocked my car, front and back. He said he knew you.”

  Jessica’s heart raced under my fingertips when I touched her breast. “Did. He. Hurt. You.” The words sliced out of my throat.

  “Only when you were watching.” Her face crumpled. “He didn’t want to hurt me, just you.”

  Her sobs started fast and hard, and she scrabbled for any purchase she could find on my body. Her legs around mine, her arms clasping my back, her tears against my throat. I held on. I held on and I rocked her and I thanked the motherfucking Lord she was in one piece—alive and whole—and so was I.

  “I will never let you be put in harm’s way again. I’ll kill him again if I have to.” The muted rage rose up, mangling my voice. “I’d kill anyone who hurt you.”

  “It’s done. It’s done.” Jessica’s breath shuddered. “I couldn’t stand watching them beat you like that.”

  I felt her tears although she held perfectly still in my arms, all the wracking sobs released.

  “They’re just bruises. I’ll heal.” You heal me.

  Jessica leaned up, and I wiped her face dry. She gently kissed my forehead and the swelling cuts on my face, lastly my lips. “I should clean you up.”

  “Later.” Pulling her down with me, I shifted under the covers and held her fast against my chest. “As long as you can stand my ugly mug for a little longer.”

  “I can stand it forever, Hunter.”

  “Good. Because I think that’s about how long I want to hold you.”

  We didn’t fall asleep. We didn’t talk much either. Hands were too busy touching, reaffirming. Hearts were too busy filling with the rapid burst of unexpected love. Wounds of the past were mending, but there was a new one.

  “I killed a man in front of you,” I whispered hoarsely sometime later as we lay, still clothed against each other.

  “I know.”

  “How can you look at me like that?”

  “Like what?”

  I cupped her face. “Like you love me, despite everything.”

  She undressed me carefully and slid the robe from her shoulders. She led me. She didn’t shy away from my bruises but kissed each one with the gentlest care all the while stoking the intense, never satisfied heat between us until I sweated, swore, panted, and felt like I was coming apart in her hands and beneath her lips.

  She guided me, she showed me.

  “Because I need you. I want you
, And most of all”—she gasped as I entered her with a strong stroke—“I love you.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  A FEW WEEKS LATER, close to Christmas, I set the ball in motion and wondered if I’d made the right decision or a gargantuan mistake.

  Jack was excited—both for Santa and for me. The only Christmas I’d spent with him he’d been too young to remember. I also told him I had a secret to share with him soon, and he was a sucker for that shit.

  I’d bought a new fucking SUV, identical to the old one, CIA-tinted windows and all. I’d been given full Vice Lieutenant status with the MPPD care of Chief Tilden after a final physical and mental workup. The mental workup included confessional time, Tilden as my stout priest. Inside a closed room, I laid it all on the line, no holds barred and very off-the-record, start to finish, the entirety of my life. He’d listened to me, nodding now and again, never commenting.

  At the end, Tilden stood. “Do you know what you want, Hunter?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He turned to his desk and sealed my record in a red envelope he buried into the bottom drawer of his desk. With a turn of the key, he closed one chapter of my life.

  “Welcome to the force, Lieutenant Detective Hunter Angelo.”

  I’d clasped his hand. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. Wait until you see who I partner you with.” He’d pulled on his rumpled jacket, dismissing me. “Angelo, huh? That’ll take some getting used to. An angel you are not.”

  “So I’ve been told, sir.” I’d matched his grin with mine.

  I was coming clean, being real. Hunter Angelo all the way.

  Of course I’d left out that last little endgame about Vicente’s raid on Retribution MC when talking to Tilden. I didn’t really need a murder one charge. The goings on that night remained strictly off the official record, and all parties involved kept lips sealed shut. Word had been sent to Op T-Z that Vicente Valderas no longer posed a threat—his identifying dental records and fingerprints accompanying the photo of a corpse would have to make do in the stead of other verification or an autopsy.

  Walker planned to make tracks soon. He had no intentions of leaving Operation T-Zone. He didn’t have kids or any ties or even a homeland. I’d felt the same recently enough to understand.

  That had all changed the instant I’d laid eyes on JB, Miss Barnes, Jessica.

  I barged into the MC and threw off my jacket. Cold air clung to me, but my face was flushed, and I knew my eyes were brighter than ever when Cole sent an intrigued look at me. It only took a few moments to gather the chosen few into a tight circle around a small table.

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” Brodie groaned loudly. “I hope this shit ain’t more about rogue MC assholes wanting to take you out.”

  Boomer cuffed him upside the head. “Give the man a chance to speak.”

  “I need a favor from y’all,” I said.

  “Goddamn knew it,” Brodie muttered over his beer.

  That time when Boomer hit him, beer sloshed over his hands. In danger of a ruckus breaking out before I even made my case, I laid my hands on the table and spoke very clearly.

  By the time I finished, Brodie looked at me with his mouth hanging open. “Wait. You mean you haven’t even asked her yet?”

  “No. That’s bad, huh?” Shit.

  “I will say this.” The blond man leaned back with a wink. “You’ve got some brass motherfucking balls.”

  Boomer huddled in next to me. “I think we’ve got just the right person for the job.” He glanced at Tuck who gave two thumbs up. “What else do you need us to do?

  ****

  The following Saturday afternoon, everyone showed up at Retribution MC. The First Ladies of Redemption wore dresses that were more black and lace than pastel and polka dots. The men spiffed up in their Sunday best, or at least clean leathers and decent shirts. They milled around, talking quietly, waiting for the big arrival. Fuck, so did I, the nerves about eating me alive. I waited at the open door, scanning the road every five seconds, listening for the rumble of motorcycle pipes.

  I wore a new suit. It was black, the dress shirt white, the tie slim and charcoal gray. Frankie had whipped it up at a moment’s notice. My shoes were stiff, and the soles squeaked on the floor as I paced back and forth.

  Cole appeared. “Whiskey.”

  I drank it with a thankful grunt.

  “Where the hell is she already?” Jesus. I felt like a heart attack was coming on. “Am I sweating?”

  “Nah. You’re fucking solid. Big cojones. She’ll be here.”

  “This tie’s choking me,” I complained.

  The loud thunder of bikes roared along the road toward the Retribution MC clubhouse. I shoved my head out the door. They gunned into the parking lot by twos and threes, escorting my woman on her Ducati.

  Holy Christ.

  I wished I’d seen them collect her. Fuck. I wished I’d been there when Rayce ambushed her with the dress. I could just imagine Jessica’s inventive swear words, wondering just what the hell was going on.

  Her hair rippled in the wind. Her short motorcycle jacket molded to her breasts. The high black leather boots ended below her knees. I dragged my gaze away and slid into the shadows, waiting for Boomer, Brodie, and Rayce to escort her in.

  Jessica entered, raking her hands through her long loose curls that captured the candlelight just as her heart had captured mine.

  Rayce came at me first. “You fuck this up, your ass is grass.”

  Boomer and Brodie made a hasty departure as soon as they delivered Jessica to me. They knew when the getting gone was good.

  Rayce helped Jessica off with the jacket as my woman glared at me. “What’s going on? I’m ambushed. Dressed. Poked. Prodded. Made up. And dragged here for what?”

  I had no words except, “My God, woman.”

  She blazed before me, gowned in a ruffled moonlight blue satin dress. The train in the back was offset by the thigh-high hemline in the front. Her freckled tits mounded above an unbelievably hot corset construction with laces I’d never figure out.

  “Will you marry me?” I asked as soon as my voice worked again.

  “What?” She balked. “Here?”

  “Untraditional. I know.” I gathered her hands in mine as the entire room of people audibly held their breaths. “It’s the same place where bad shit went down. But it’s home to so many.”

  I’d though we could reclaim the clubhouse, and I could claim Jessica once and for all. Now I wasn’t so sure. She looked skittish.

  “If you want we can do this again in a real church instead of the MC church. For you, and your parents, Jack . . .” I ducked my head, making such a fucking mess of things. Jack wasn’t here. Neither were her folks. I didn’t want her to be new stepmommy or daughter or sister or anything other than greedily, completely mine for one day. “We’ve got to do it legal anyway, go for a marriage license and all that, but I just wanted this—today—to be about us. I’m selfish when it comes to you.”

  “You’d marry me twice?” Her eyes rounded, and she stepped closer.

  “I’d marry you a million times, sweetheart.” I touched her tenderly where the dress met her shoulders. “So consider this a spiritual wedding.”

  “Got the spirits right here!” Some wiseass shouted from near the bar, holding up a bottle of Jack.

  Jessica glared at him with a shout of her own, “Hush up now. My man is proposing to me and I intend to fully enjoy it.”

  The loud laughter around the room faded, and she smiled at me, bright and open but with something sinful lurking inside. “Did you choose the dress?”

  Hell yeah I did. It was sexy as fuck, possibly not one bit bridal, but totally JB.

  “I picked it out. Rayce approved.” If I was going down, I was bringing Jessica’s BFF with me. “I have nothing to give you, you know.”

  “Just your heart.” Jessica smoothed the hair from my brow. “Do you love me, Hunter?”

  “To the en
d.”

  “You trust me? With all of you?”

  I bent on one knee, producing the ring I’d been saving for her. The big diamond glinted but not as much as her eyes. “Always. And here and now, if you’ll have me.”

  “Absolutely. Yes, Hunter. Yes!” Her finger trembled and her tears stood out on inky black lashes when I slid the first ring home.

  Roars of congratulations filled the room and we hadn’t even married yet.

  “Oh, shit. There’s no one to walk you down the aisle.”

  More than a dozen eager MC dudes shot their hands in the air. That wasn’t going to happen. They’d probably have her out the door in five seconds flat and across one of their motorcycles.

  “Sure you do.” Rayce tucked her arm through Jessica’s. “Maid of dishonor and all.”

  “You mean honor.”

  She flicked her fingers at me. “Whatever. Let’s get this wedding on!”

  I stood at the altar aka the band stage while Tuck took the pulpit, a handsomely carved tall stand. I recognized Brodie’s hand in the work.

  Not much surprised me anymore but when Boomer had said he had the right man for the job of marrying Jessica and me, he’d meant Tuck, the grandfather of the club. That had blown me away. Diehard hippie, MC rough rider, and a preacher? What next? I clearly hadn’t investigated him deeply enough.

  He’d patted his belly and said, “The Lord moves in mysterious ways.”

  Cole was at my side as best man, but Walker took a place to the side, tall and somber for a change although a smile quirked his mouth.

  Then I stopped thinking. I stopped breathing.

  Strong and sure, soft and beautiful, Jessica walked down the aisle toward me. Her gown rustled, the deep blue color accenting her pearly skin. The cut of the dress did a thousand things to my body, but it was her smile—sweet and proud—that made me catch my breath.

  I held my hand out to her, and when Rayce transferred it into mine, I brought her palm to my lips.

  Tucker pulled out a well-worn, leather-bound Bible, and this shit is real. So real it stole every last thought but that of Jessica away.

  I listened to Tucker’s formal words and his small personal comments. The dearly beloved, the worship each other, the to have and to hold.