Hunted: A Criminal Deeds Novel

by Kyle Autumn

  And then I wonder what that says about me.

  Honestly, I can’t think that too hard about it. Something painful has happened to him, and he’s well aware of what’s happened to me. Together, we’re fucked up, but together, we’re stronger somehow. Together, we’re more than the sum of our parts. Somehow, I’m softening him, and in his way, he’s hardening me. We’re making this work to our benefit, even if he doesn’t think he needs to soften. I’m thankful for this tiny tender moment even if it makes him want to push me away—literally.

  I wait for it when he’s done throwing the garbage of my bandages away. I wait for him to realize he’s being too soft. For him to put it together that he’s showing too much kindness, too much weakness.

  But it never comes.

  No pushes. No shoves. No knocking me down. No subsequent rough, punishing sex. Just him brushing past me to leave me alone in the bathroom.

  I take that in, appreciating it for what it is: change. He’s changed me, and I’ve changed him. Not in a way I expected him to change. Not in a way I demanded him to change. It just happened. Just like it did with me.

  A moment later, with a small smile gracing my lips, I spin around to find him. I find him right away though. He hasn’t gone far, and he’s facing me already like that’s as far as he went when he left. Then his mouth opens and I wait for whatever he has to say.

  “I said I’d help you get ready for this fight,” he says, his jaw working and clenching. Something brutal runs just beneath the surface of his skin. It’s fighting to come out, but he’s showing a modicum of control. “And I will.”

  “Thank you,” I tell him. “I need that.”

  “You need more than my help to train.” He adjusts his stance and crosses his arms over his chest. Muscles bulge as he wipes a thumb over his bottom lip. “You need me in the fight.”

  “What?” I ask, unable to even comprehend what he’s saying. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I’m going to help you win this.” He hits me with a forceful, powerful stare. “You think a gun is too easy for him, but I’m not. I don’t need a gun to kill him.” Then he cracks his knuckles and keeps his eyes on me as he says, “You just need me.”

  My mouth goes dry when I open it to respond. No words come out. Not until I finally find my voice and say the last thing I thought I’d say. “Okay.”

  “Okay?” he asks, raising an eyebrow like he’s not sure he heard me correctly.

  Gulping, I nod. “Yeah. Okay.”

  No thank-you. No appreciation. Just acceptance of help I need in order to survive. I’ve been on my own long enough to know that it won’t continue to work that way. I don’t want his gun, but I’ll take his help. This man in front of me can make Adam’s life a living hell. I’ve felt it in the way he fucks me. I’ve seen it in the way he looks at me. I’ve noticed it in the way electricity hums under his skin. He has some hate to work out. He has scars of his own, even if I can’t see them with my eyes. I know they’re there.

  And we’ll both be ready when the time comes to unleash them.

  19

  Zane

  After five grueling hours of training, I feel like she has some skills she can use. We need to outsmart Adam. We have to win this our way—in a way that might surprise him so he never sees it coming. I’m not sure what that way is yet, and I only have a day and a half to figure it out. Probably less time. I’ve never been lucky, and he’s never been patient. So the pressure is on.

  “One more time,” I demand, my hands in the air as I wait for hers to connect.

  She looks like she’s about to drop. I shouldn’t push her this hard if she wants a chance to survive, but if she doesn’t know what she’s up against, she’ll never make it. I’m sure she thinks she knows because he’s mutilated her within an inch of her life. But it’s not the same when she has a fighting chance to swing back. With the option to fight against him on the table, all bets are off. She needs the know-how, and I can show her.

  Digging deep, she raises her fists in front of her face. Her elbows are in tight, but her exhaustion shows. This is good practice for how awful she’s going to feel in a fight for her life. She can rest some tomorrow, but I’m not going easy on her to save her strength. She’ll get it through adrenaline and pure, sheer force of will. She’s a fighter. But I have to make her a decent one for this to work.

  When she throws the first punch, I can tell she’s really trying. The fierceness in her eyes, the determination in her stance—they all come together to create the picture of fortitude. But I’m not sure it’s enough.

  “Harder,” I command.

  She throws another set of punches.

  “Harder!”

  She tries again.

  “Harder!” I shout at her.

  It hurts even my ears. But Adam won’t go easy on her, either. It just won’t happen. Which means I have to be tough on her. Tougher than even I want to be right now. When she’s suffering and in pain. I can’t stand the sight of it. If it’ll help though…

  Then we have to do it.

  “Don’t forget spatial awareness. Keep an eye on everything around you. Know where the exits are.”

  She doesn’t give me even the smallest hint that she heard me. With her game face on, she simply keeps punching.

  “Faster,” I tell her, pushing my palms forward to meet her fists and set the pace. “Faster. Go. GO!”

  She gives me literally everything she has before she collapses in a heap at my feet. “Stop,” she pleads, her voice cracking as it becomes watery with her tears. “We have to stop.” She sobs against my legs, crawling closer toward me.

  I don’t know what she’s doing, but I’m one hundred percent certain this never worked with Adam. It won’t work when he shows up to steal her back, either.

  “Get up.” My gruff command falls on deaf ears, so I repeat it more harshly this time. When she still doesn’t get up, I yell it. “Get the fuck up!”

  Slowly, she manages to unfold herself from my legs and push herself into a standing position. Exhaustion wafts off her in waves, and defeat has all but settled into her bones.

  “Do you want my help?” I grit out.

  Pitifully, she nods and whimpers.

  “This is my help.” I extend my arms out in front of me. “This is how I help you. If you don’t want it, you can go.” With one hand, I point to the door.

  And then some strange feeling puts my heart in a vise. Then the crank squeezes it tight.

  Is she about to leave? Will she take me seriously and get out of my house? I don’t know where she’ll go, and not knowing bothers me. I want her to be safe, and she’ll be safest with me. But I can’t go into this fight without knowing she’s ready.

  So my heart jumps into my throat when she assumes her fighting stance and prepares for the next onslaught.

  I try to fight the urge, but I just can’t. I need to show her how prepared she has to be, so I sweep my foot out and kick her legs out from underneath her. But I’m quick to catch her in my arms before she falls. She gasps anyway, her arms flailing to her sides as she falls into my embrace. Then she grips my shoulder, holding on for dear life.

  Trusting me to keep her safe.

  It’s a gut instinct. I recognize that. But my brain doesn’t want to accept that as the only reason why she has a death grip on me. Not when she’s looking at me like I’m the only thing that can save her from certain danger. Not when her nostrils flare and her eyes go wide and all I can see is naked fear and pure trust shining back at me.

  I want to hold on to those things. So I need her to fight. I need her to be ready.

  When I bring her back up to her feet, I want to tell her what that was all about. I want to explain that she has to be prepared for anything no matter how tired she is. No matter how much she wants to give up, I want to tell her that she can’t. She absolutely can’t.

  But none of that comes out of my mouth. Instead, when she’s standing again, I simply wait for her to back away from me
and assume the position again. She doesn’t though. She keeps that grip on me, her eyes on me, her trust in me. She stays too close—so close that her breath fans my face in a warm breeze. So close that I can feel her pulse beating rapidly beneath her skin.

  So close that all I have to do is lean down an inch and I can kiss her.

  So I do.

  And this time, neither one of us pushes the other away.

  20

  Hanna Lee

  I shouldn’t have the strength for another kiss. I shouldn’t have the strength for anything. I don’t, not really. I’m total exhaustion, pure and simple. He’s worked me to the bone, and if Adam decides that tomorrow is the day to come find me, I’m utterly fucking screwed.

  But something about the feel of his lips on mine this time gives me renewed life.

  When he presses closer, I stretch up onto my tiptoes to do the same. It has the added bonus of him scooping me up to relieve the pressure of having to keep myself upright. With his arm under my bottom, he holds me to him and carries me up the stairs as carefully as he can without untangling his tongue from mine. I hold on with one arm around his neck while he feels our way to his bedroom. Then, when we get there, he nips my lip with his teeth and I finally pull back in a gasp.

  I just can’t do this with him tonight.

  I can’t do the rough, brutal act with the weight of my exhaustion blanketing over me. I can’t go through the motions of accepting the beast in him to make him happy. I can’t survive another world-shaking orgasm. My heart won’t make it to the other side. And my body needs rest. So I shake my head and rest it against his collarbone.

  He goes deathly still beneath me, standing in the middle of his room like a statue. I unwrap my arm from around his neck and slide down his body, succumbing to the fact that I’ve disappointed him and might incur wrath because of it. If I make a break for it, I might get two steps away before he catches me. But I don’t even have the strength to fight any longer. Whatever he feels the need to do now, he can do.

  All he does is turn me around to face the bed and push me toward it. I’m not sure if that’s a sign of what’s to come, if it’s his way of showing me that what he wants goes, and if he wants to fuck me in that bed, he will. It feels like it’s leaning that way when he raises my lead-filled arms above my head and strips me of my sweaty long-sleeved shirt. Then he pulls my yoga pants down my legs, yanking when they need a good tug to come unstuck.

  But when he pulls my side of the covers back and gestures for me to get in, I do. I go willingly and wait for him, wondering where this is headed.

  He slides under the blankets on his side, now only in his boxers. Then he shuts the light on his side table off and uses his arm to guide me to lie down. I do, my heart racing as I wonder what kind of punishment I’ll get for refusing him.

  None of that comes though.

  He whispers in my ear, “If you’re tired, you should go to sleep.” Then he slides a hand over my stomach and curls me against him. “We’ve got more training tomorrow.”

  Inside, I weep at the idea of using up more energy in the morning. I have nothing left in the tank. Absolutely nothing. He has to know that. And if I do more tomorrow, I won’t be ready when Adam decides to show up. I just won’t.

  I’m not sure where it comes from, but a tear-filled, watery, “Thank you,” leaves my lips. It breaks the dam and all the tears follow. Those screams and moans I’ve been leaving inside fill the room, and soon, all I can hear are my wails. They pierce my ears, so they must be awful for him, but I can’t fucking take it anymore.

  Every day that passes is one more day closer to my ultimate capture. Even with Zane on my side, I don’t think I can win. I almost don’t even want to try anymore. I can’t hand myself back over to Adam, but I could do something else. Something else to end this pain and suffering. Something else to make this all end.

  The hand on my face stops those thoughts in their tracks. Then Zane’s growled, “Don’t thank me. Just win,” makes my heart stutter back to life.

  In the dark, I can’t see him. But it means he can’t see me, either. He can’t see how mangled my body is. He can’t see the scars all over my arms, my legs, my torso… All he can do is feel. Feel my body. Feel my intentions.

  Feel me.

  And suddenly, that’s all I want right now. For him to feel everything I have. Inside and out.

  Even with nothing left in the tank. Even with my previous refusal. Something about him—his confidence in me, his demand that I finish this once and for all—draws me to him. To his lips. To his neck. To his chest.

  To his cock.

  This could be the only night I have left. There’s a timer on my head, but I don’t know when it’ll go off. If I don’t take advantage of whatever time I have left, I’ll be full of regrets when it ends. So I push him to his back and get on top of him.

  “Let me take,” I mutter as I rise to straddle him.

  I don’t see it, but I feel him nod. His acceptance of my demand flows through the grip his has on my hips. It’s not quite as tight as it was earlier, but it doesn’t need to be. I’m not going anywhere. I won’t run from the way he fucks me. But I will control the pace tonight.

  I’ll take what I want. When I want it. And how.

  Once I’ve pulled his boxers down enough, I line myself up over his cock. When I slide down, it stings. My body isn’t ready for this. My mind wants him. My spirit wants him. Even something in my heart wants him. But my own body knows what’s coming and doesn’t want the intrusion.

  Not until he puts a hand out to stop me from forcing him into me. “We don’t have to—”

  “I want to,” I say over him. Because I do. I just need a little time. His careful, courteous answer has my body coming around though. “Slowly.”

  When I lower myself again, it’s a little better this time. My body accepts more of him, and when I feel his thumb against my clit, it becomes even easier. He rubs in slow, lazy circles, proving to me that he’s not simply the brusque, fast-paced man he tries to be all the time. He lets me grip his abs and dig my nails in as I find a slow pace I’m comfortable with. He keeps rubbing me until I’m so wet that he slides in and out of me with ease. With comfort. With pleasure.

  But the building ecstasy is almost too much for me to handle.

  I start panting, moaning, squeezing his skin tighter. With one hand, he grips one of mine. The other caresses my clit in even circles until I fall over the edge and clamp down on his cock. His name tumbles from my lips a second later. That makes him lose the fight of holding on, and he thrusts up into me as he rides his release out.

  Only a moment after that, I fall against his chest, sweaty, sated, and a puddle of fatigue. His hand lands on my back, right where Adam etched his possession on me, and I’m too tired to move away from him. He stays inside me, softening as I fall asleep. Soon, he does too, curled around me, his heavy hand not leaving my skin for a moment, marking me with his heat in a brand-new way.

  This could be my last night on Earth, but it’s one I’ll never forget.

  Even after I die.

  21

  Zane

  The last thing I want to do in the morning is break our contact. We managed to stay in the same position all night. Now, I may not be a guy who looks for signs, but I’ve never slept better than I do with her. I’ve never felt better than I do with her. Even when I lose control, she somehow reels me back in. Keeps me sane. Helps me find my cool.

  If Adam doesn’t kill us before she finds out what I was really doing in the bar that night, she’ll kill me for it herself.

  I’m training her up to do just that.

  She’ll decide she does need my gun after all and shoot me right in my cold heart. The one that’s coming back to life thanks to her. Ahh, the irony. Wouldn’t that be poetic?

  I come back to the land of the living just in time to die. Perfect.

  It figures. After what happened the one other time I allowed a woman this far into my life, I sho
uld know better. I’m supposed to know better than to do it again. But here I am.

  This woman is in my bed.

  This woman is in my head.

  This woman is in my heart.

  And she’s going to toss me away just like Sasha did when she finds out who I really am and what I do.

  I somehow extricate myself from our tangled limbs and get out of bed. She doesn’t stir, and I’m thankful for that. The poor woman needs some peace. The calm before the storm. I’ll let her sleep while I go run my last perimeter check. But then it’s game on. Back to training. Back to getting her mind right so she can think like Adam would. Better than Adam would.

  It’s a good thing I’ve known the man for as long as I have. That I’ve worked with him for years. That she picked me in that bar even though I’m the last one she should have chosen. I was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Though I’ve turned out to be the sheep in devil’s clothing. At least I want to think so.

  I slip some shorts on and head out back. It’s so quiet this time of morning, which is half of why I love it out here. It’s peaceful, but it allows me to hear what’s going on around my property. Nothing much right now, it seems, which gives me more hope than I deserve.

  Just like Hanna Lee does.

  Willow.

  Fuck. I still don’t know what the name thing is about. Or where that money is. If there ever was that money.

  With grass under my feet as I examine my property, I think about this. She guarded that bag, but now, I’m not even sure where it went. I’ve been so focused on keeping her safe and building up her fighting skills that the money has slipped my mind. It stopped being about that the moment she told me to take her home. I was a goner when she tightened her little fists around my collar and dragged my face to hers.

  But Adam didn’t hesitate to remind me what’s at stake here. Two million dollars. An amount of money she couldn’t possibly have had on her person when I picked her up. Or in her car. Unless Adam conveniently left out the fact that they’ve already found the money. Yet she hasn’t mentioned it once. If it were in her car, she would have wanted to go back to get it. She wouldn’t have just left it there. And she’s never once mentioned that she needed to go to her car for anything.