The Predator: Part One (The Predator Series Book 1)

by Brooke May

  “Now, get your butt up to your room and clean yourself up. Don’t want Satan’s Mistress to have a fit over your appearance twice in one day.”

  Long ago, I quit laughing at my mother’s nickname. Mainly now, I see that as the truth.

  Getting up, I hang my head. “Why? The record is set at five.” I tease, rounding the counter, kiss the cheek she offers me, and head up to my room to change … once again.

  XOXO

  I FLOP DOWN onto my bed with a huff. Dinner, like usual, was frustrating. Mother and Zoey were talking non-stop about everything from dresses to who received an invitation to the gala.

  The only time they acknowledged me was when they ask if I would be able to go dress shopping in a couple of weeks. To which I just gave a simple nod.

  My father is rarely home during the week and only every other weekend. He prefers his work in DC to spending any time with us. When I was little, he was warmer toward me, but as I got older, his form of fun was making me read law books that I didn’t understand and for him to come up with different issues a politician would face and have me solve them. I quickly learned to make myself scarce when he was around.

  While my mother and Zoey continued about the gala, I thought about what Fiona had said about that Chamberlain guy. His gaze did something to me that no other man’s ever had. They held freedom and a carnal wildness that I found intriguing and desirable. Part of me hopes to see him again, even if it is just a glance.

  After dinner, we all went our own ways. Meaning my mother and Zoey pranced off to who knows where, and I went to my room.

  I stare at the white abyss of my ceiling for who knows how long before I decide to change for the last time today and crawl into bed with one of the textbooks that I hide under my mattress to get ahead in one of my classes.

  When I fall asleep after I complete the chapter quiz, I dream of the ocean at night and the bright full moon glowing off the dark water, leaving me feeling more serene and peaceful than ever.

  Chapter Four

  I WAKE WITH A jolt as I do every morning right at five thirty. I’ve been this way since I started junior high and discovered that no one, aside from Fiona and the maid, Diane, was awake this early. It’s the only time during the day that I am free to roam the house without running into anyone.

  I waste no time making my bed and packing my bag for the morning. Getting my workout clothes on, I then pick out what music I will play for my class today. I choose something light and cheerful to highlight my newfound goals and determination. Before I leave my room, I grab my school bag and lock the door. I always lock up because Zoey knows no boundaries when it comes to other people’s spaces.

  “Gonna see that boy again today?” Fiona already has my breakfast of oatmeal and orange juice set out for me with a grapefruit and my water bottle waiting.

  I stuff the water bottle in my gym bag and start eating my breakfast. “I don’t think so, Fiona. I don’t think he was that interested in me. And chances are our encounter was a one-time thing.” She throws me a look of disagreement but doesn’t say a word. “Besides, I’m there to help little kids to dance, not pick up muscle-bound guys.”

  I finish my breakfast in silence, but I can tell from Fiona’s scrutinizing that she wants to say something. I’m glad she doesn’t. I’m just starting this whole new me. I don’t need to get a new guy mixed up in it and lose myself.

  When I’m done, I rinse my bowl and load the dishwasher. I don’t have to, but it is a small victory for me to help her out. I kiss Fiona’s cheek and head out the door to make the journey to the rec center in the pre-dawn light so I can get in a workout before my class starts.

  I could just stay here and do my workout in our home gym, but I prefer to do my own workout away from the assessing eyes of my mother and sister. Not that they are up at this time. But I’m sure they would find something to complain about if I used it, even though they only use the elliptical and the treadmill. The weights are probably covered in dust. And I lift. They think I’m too large already and feel that I run enough as it is.

  Being away is just a better option for all of us.

  I rattle like a maraca while my car warms up. Not that I mind, I enjoy the cold easing into my body and waking me up. That and my workouts are far better than caffeine is. When I can see through all my windows, I back out and make the long voyage on the icy roads to the center. I arrive just as a staff member is unlocking the front doors and the parking lot lights go off as the sun crests over the metropolitan skyline, bringing the beautiful orange and pink colors to the land of ice and snow.

  My breath forms in front of me in the early morning air as I get out and sling my bag over my shoulder. The building is toasty and quiet as I make my way to the weight room where there are also treadmills.

  I love coming in this early. I’m able to get a better workout without many people around. The center fills up pretty quickly around eight, and that makes it hard to find an open machine or set of weights. This early, I get the machine I want and can lift in peace.

  I turn on the lights as I enter the weight room and turn on the radio and “She Wolf” by Shakira starts playing. I drop my bag by the benches near the treadmills and start my stretches. I can’t help but look around every once in a while with the hope of getting a glimpse of Chamberlain.

  God, I’m pathetic.

  He was hitting on me like he does that all the time. That should repulse me; my mind draws on that thought again. But I find myself drawn in, wanting more of his hypnotic eyes and sensual voice. I tossed and turned in my sleep. His gaze, his stance, and his voice plagued my dreams. There is nothing gentle about a man like him. He’s probably the type who is used to one-night stands and not calling the girl back once he is done with her. Or even bothers to remember her name.

  Figures.

  I finally find a man who brings out feelings in me that I have never felt before, and he is a player, a jerk, and all-around no good. With that in mind, I walk over, turn the radio up, and return to the treadmill to start my warm-up run.

  I lose myself in the steady pounding of my feet as I run for three miles. Then I work my way around to all the lifting machines, spending equal amounts of time at all of them before I end with the free weights, where I do burpees for five-minute reps, and then go back to free lifting before I stretch again. My heart sags a little when I grab my bag and leave the room with no sign of Chamberlain.

  Just like I thought.

  I put too much into seeing him again. Just as I did when I was little, I invested too much hope only to be disappointed. I arrive at the room we use and get everything ready for the class with my remaining free time. Some of the girls show up early, excited to get started, so I set them up to help one another stretch while I finish setting up the stations for them to rotate through and pull the stereo out to get the music started.

  I’m glad that I was able to draw in a crowd for my class; I just wish a couple of boys had been interested in learning. We could have done some fun lifts then. I’ve been doing this for two years now. My students love me, and their parents appreciate their daughters getting an opportunity they might not normally get all while being in a safe place. Maybe I could talk to some of the parents to see if they had a son who would be willing to participate.

  My class finally fills up at a quarter after eight, and we begin while some of the parents wait outside, watching through the window between the studio room and the hallway. Today, it doesn’t seem to bother any of the girls. I’ve told them that someday they could be performing and would have to do it in front of a crowd, so they should get used to an audience. It helps; plus, I accidentally mess up on something that is easy to help them relax. I’m hoping to get a recital together for them to show their loved ones how well they are doing.

  Halfway through class, I notice a couple of the older girls, the ones getting ready to go to school full time, whispering to themselves and pointing toward the window while releasing giggles.

  “Gir
ls?” Their attention snaps to me, and their little heads jerk up to focus. “Can we please stay on task? We are almost done.” I wear a smile but hold a firm tone. They return to their spots and take their positions, mirroring my first position for the chainse turn. “Ready?” Nine little heads nod with excitement as we begin our turn in slow motion. They are just beginning, while older girls in my other class have more experience. I can go full speed with them. With these little ones, I take my time.

  I move around to all the ones who need help with their posture before coming back to the front to do the turn again with them. When we finish, I smile at all of them. “You girls are doing beautifully. I’m so very proud of you.” I praise and turn to the parents who are watching with a warm smile.

  My hands still in front of me and my smile vanishes when I lock on a set of eyes that don’t belong to any of the parents.

  The dead weight of my arms drops to my sides as Chamberlain’s blue eyes pierce into my soul. No one is paying us any mind as the girls do more turns for their parents. Our gaze is locked, making my mouth and lips go dry. Slowly, I swallow then wet my lips with my tongue. Chamberlain’s arms are braced above his head by the window flexing, and his eyes drop to my mouth as his own opens slightly.

  “Miss Cunningham!” One of the girls calls my attention, breaking the spell. It must have done the same for Chamberlain because he quickly shakes his head and stalks off.

  Frowning in confusion, I recover and return my focus to my class. “How about a few more turns and then we do our stretches? After that, we will be done.” I smile sweetly at their excitement and get back to work.

  After class, I move my things back to the closet and greet the next dance instructor. I button my coat and head to the front of the building. It will feel good to cool down after being in there for four and a half hours.

  I’m shuffling for my keys when a voice pulls my head up. “Well, hello there, lil’ bit.” I glance to my right, finding the guy I flipped over my back yesterday.

  “My name is K.C.,” I say defensively and then change my tone. I owe him an apology. “I’m sorry for what I did yesterday, you … frightened me.”

  He laughs, extending his hand. “Scott, nice to meet you, K.C. And don’t worry about it. Even if it was embarrassing to have a little thing like you throw me over your shoulder, it was a good laugh. No harm.” I nod just as his phone chimes, indicating he has a message. He looks down at it and shakes his head. “It was nice meeting the girl who has my buddy in knots after a quick look and a few words. See ya around, K.C.” He waves and jogs off back into the interior of the center before I can question him.

  In knots?

  “Yeah, you … too.” I give a weak wave, confused.

  What did he mean by that?

  Certainly, I’m not the type of girl who could have any man in knots.

  For the second time in as many days, I leave the rec center confused. Trying my best to shake it off, I head to the university for my classes.

  XOXO

  FOR THE REST of the week, I occasionally see Chamberlain and Scott around the center, but never speak to either of them. When I pass them, Chamberlain just stares while Scott offers me a nice smile and a nod, nothing more. I want to talk to Chamberlain, but I don’t even know what to say. My tongue ties and sweat pools everywhere when I think about it.

  I’ve learned from one of the volunteers that some guys from a local fighter’s gym are here temporarily until their gym remodel is finished.

  Chamberlain and Scott are two of them, which explains a lot. In the two years since I started coming here, I’ve never seen any guys as built as they are.

  I still come in early and do my workout before my class, but I never see anyone in there that early. From time to time, after my class, I pass the workout room to find a bunch of girls my age, some older, in there watching. I peek in as well to find Chamberlain and Scott lifting. Chamberlain is unaware of the audience he has gained while Scott seems to eat it up. The first time I noticed it, it caught me by surprise. I always thought most guys who looked like them were narcissistic and would take every chance they could to show off and impress female attention.

  As much as I try to remind myself that I don’t have feelings bubbling up for him, my body doesn’t listen. I want to walk up to him and talk, but a small, timid part keeps me from doing just that.

  So much for the new K.C.

  I know, deep down, I’m not the type of girl who could handle a one-night stand or no-strings deal that other girls have no problem with. I want love.

  Thursday evening is the one day a week that my class is later. My classes at the university run late, and I instruct older girls, ones closer to my age. That forces me to park in the back lot, which means I have to walk through the rear of the center to get to the back doors. Usually, I get lucky and find a spot out front but not tonight.

  The pool is located back here, but I never use it. I’m not much of a swimmer for exercise, only for fun. The rest of the rooms back here are usually dark by now when I do have to park in the back. Tonight, a single bright light shines from a room across the hall with loud music blaring something I can’t understand.

  My steps slow as I lean my head forward to get a look on the inside. I don’t want to disturb anyone, but I’m curious. Since the rooms are usually dark when I come back here, I’ve never seen what they look like.

  The sound of fast, hard punches fills the air as I get closer. The room is much larger than I thought it would be. A huge padded mat used for all sorts of things from wrestling to gymnastics dominates the space, while the far wall and left wall have punching bags of all sizes and weights lining it.

  And at one of those bags is Chamberlain while Scott holds it steady it from the punches being thrown at it.

  A small gasp escapes me as I stand stock-still watching him move. His back is just as sculpted as his front. Tight muscles roll as he launches forward, releasing another blow to the bag and causing Scott to fall back a step. I’ve gone unnoticed from the volume of their music.

  “Jesus, man!” Scott yells at him.

  Chamberlain grunts an apology then takes another swing. I look at my right and see the door is slightly ajar.

  “I know this chick has you all fucked up, but you don’t need to take your frustration out on me.” Chamberlain takes another swing, causing Scott to fall backward again, but this time, he falls as the punching bag knocks into him. “Fuck!” He jumps up. “I’m done! Either do something about this or find another partner.” Scott walks over to a bench and sits down.

  “What should I do about it?” Chamberlain’s deep voice breaks through the air like lightning straight to my heart and down deep. My knees tremble while the rest of my body tightens.

  “Well …” Scott wipes his face off with a towel and throws another one to Chamberlain. “You could try talking to her, but if you’re too nervous, just go fuck Amber and be done with it.”

  Now, that sounds like the type of guys I thought they were. “Fuck you, Scott.” Chamberlain’s growl causes me to release a sigh of relief that I didn’t know I was holding. “Amber is a shitty lay.”

  Well, so much for that.

  My phone decides at that moment to chime loudly from my bag, drawing my attention and the two men I’m watching to my bag.

  Oh, no!

  I quickly grab it and see that it is Fiona warning me to get home as soon as I can for dinner. I reply quickly and look up to find both of them staring at me. Scott is grinning while Chamberlain looks lost.

  I’m not entirely sure what to do. Should I wave, say hi? I’m not sure. So I flee the building and sprint, carefully, to my car. I don’t wait long for it to heat up before I take off.

  God, I’m such an embarrassment. Even to myself.

  Chapter Five

  THE NEXT MORNING, I get to the rec center a little later than I normally do. To be honest, I didn’t want to come. I’d much rather suffer any setback with my mother by working out at home than fa
ce my embarrassment near Chamberlain. But habits are hard for me to break.

  The morning isn’t nearly as cold, and in my rush, I forgot to throw on a pair of sweat pants over my shorts as I sprinted out of the house. I drove cautiously to the center but dashed in to the workout room when I got there. To my surprise, the lights are already on and AC/DC’s “Back in Black” is blaring through the speakers.

  Glancing around, I find no one in here and shrug it off. I was an hour late, so one of the staff members must have been in here preparing to open up.

  I set about doing my normal morning routine with my stretches. I’m just starting on the treadmill, which faces the entrance, when the air changes drastically in the room.

  Guns N’ Roses “Welcome to the Jungle” starts up on the radio just as Chamberlain strides into the room. He looks as deadly as he has every time I’ve seen him before. I am gifted with a few uninterrupted moments to gaze at him before he sees me. I know he knows someone else is in here because of the sounds I’m creating with my run.

  He is truly a work of art. He is muscular but not overly so. Like when you see some professional body-builders whose heads dwarf in size compared to their biceps. He’s lean in the center, tall, and stacked in his upper body and arms. It makes me wonder if a man built like him knows how to be delicate with a woman.

  My face flushes at the thought of him being delicate with me. His deep blues fixate on me, discovering my gaze and causing me to briefly stumble.

  While my eyes stay focused on his, I can still see his chest rising and falling evenly. His posture screams alert, focused, and ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. Suddenly, running and trying to breathe is too hard to do. I break eye contact and try to focus on the steady thud of my feet for the rest of my run.