“That’s bullshit,” Hunter said, cutting him off before he could continue sprouting a bunch of bullshit that he knew wasn’t right since one of the first things he did when he got out of jail was to look up the rules for house arrest in Florida.
Hunter knew from his search that he got free time to leave the house on certain days so that he could run errands. He was also supposed to get special release times so that he could conduct his business. He was supposed to-
“The terms of your house arrest don’t allow you to leave, because you are being allowed an assistant who can do those things for you,” the Prosecutor reminded him with a sneer. “Under normal circumstances, you would have been forced to complete your sentence in prison, but lucky for you, your attorney was able to negotiate your house arrest terms with the Judge. So, I would count myself lucky if I were you.”
“It’s a good deal,” Ryan said tightly, but only loud enough for him to hear.
Knowing that Ryan wouldn’t fuck him over or lie to him, Hunter reluctantly nodded his head. He also crossed his arms over his chest to stop himself from doing something that would piss Ryan off and make his job a hell of a lot harder.
“You will also have to complete weekly anger management sessions,” the Prosecutor announced, noticeably enjoying himself. “You are only allowed three visitors a week. You may hire a cook, gardener, maid, and any other service that you need without violating your weekly visitor’s policy,” the Prosecutor said, not sounding very happy about that concession.
“I’m all set here,” the technician said, as he stood up. “Your ankle monitor will alert you if you go past one hundred feet. Once that happens, you have forty-five seconds to get back within the perimeter or you’ll be in violation of your house arrest.”
“Great,” Hunter said dryly.
“This should answer any questions that you might have,” the technician said, handing him a brochure, “If it doesn’t, there’s a number on the back that you can call.”
“While your assistant is on the premises, she’s required to follow the same guidelines with the exception that she is allowed to come and go as she pleases,” the Prosecutor said loudly, no doubt trying to drop a hint to his new assistant on how to screw him over.
That was something that Hunter would never allow.
*-*-*-*
“I’m sorry, but what was that about house arrest?” Kylie asked, positive that she’d misheard the entire conversation.
At least, she hoped that she had.
“There’s nothing to worry about,” the Prosecutor that she’d met with during the interview yesterday said with such a blatantly false smile that it took everything in her not to roll her eyes and make this situation worse. “Mr. O’Mallery requires the assistance of a fulltime assistant and that’s where you come in. As long as you follow the rules set up for Mr. O’Mallery’s house arrest, you’ll be fine.”
Kylie doubted that, especially since she now knew that her new boss, the same one that she was required to live with, was mandated to complete court-ordered anger management sessions, which made it sound pretty bad. The best part, she couldn’t quit, not unless she wanted to fork over ten grand. Admittedly, when she’d signed the contract she hadn’t known about that stipulation, but Mr. O’Mallery’s lawyer had been nice enough to whisper the finer details of the contract to her and remind her that she was obligated to stick it out for the year or face a breach of contract clause that would rob her of ten grand.
Kylie really wished that she hadn’t signed that contract. Normally, well, within the past five years at least, she’d tried to find the bright side of things, but right now as she looked around the trashed house and the seriously angry man that looked close to tearing the Prosecutor apart with his bare hands, she was admittedly having a heck of a time finding anything positive about this situation.
“Please call my office if you have any problems, Miss Davis,” the Prosecutor said, and that should have comforted her, but it didn’t since she seriously doubted that he was really concerned about her well-being. The smug smile he sent her new boss, who was visibly seething with rage, only confirmed that suspicion.
“I’ll be in touch if you need anything,” Mr. O’Mallery’s lawyer said to her new boss before he sent what he probably thought was a comforting smile in her direction.
It wasn’t.
Not even close.
As Kylie watched everyone walk out the front door, she struggled to keep her feet planted where they were. It was only the fact that she couldn’t afford to lose ten-thousand dollars that kept her from doing what instinct demanded and run.
“I want this mess cleaned up by tomorrow morning,” was all her new boss said before he turned to walk away.
“What cleaning agency do you use?” Kylie asked, thankful that at least part of her brain was still functioning.
“A cleaning agency won’t be necessary,” Mr. O’Mallery drawled, as he neared a set of closed doors.
“It won’t?” Kylie asked in confusion as she slowly glanced around the room littered with trash, food, spilled alcohol, vomit, and things that would probably haunt her for years to come.
“No, I’m sure that you’re more than capable of having the house cleaned and put back together before tomorrow morning,” her new boss said with an evil smile that told her exactly what she should expect for the next twelve months.
Hell, pure hell.
Chapter 4
The first day of hell, Hunter told himself, and only three hundred and sixty-four more days to go. With that really fucking depressing thought, he threw his covers aside, sat up, and switched the alarm clock off before it had a chance to go off.
Rubbing his hands down his face, Hunter climbed out of bed and walked to the bathroom, noting the time and wishing that getting up at five every morning was a habit that he could break, but his years as a Marine had guaranteed that he’d be getting up every morning before five until the day he died. When he was a kid, he used to sleep well past noon no matter if it was a school day or the weekend, it never mattered, because no one had fucking cared enough to bother with him.
His parents had been too busy with their fucked-up marriage to notice him and his teachers were always relieved when he didn’t show up for school. Hunter did what he wanted, when he wanted until he was seventeen and convinced his parents that they’d all be better off if he left home. He’d appreciated the fact that they’d pretended to care and even put in a little effort to try and convince him that they wanted him to stay. But, in the end, they’d simply agreed that there was no real future for him at home and signed the papers so that he could join the Marines.
It was probably the smartest and dumbest thing that he’d ever done in his life, but it made him the man that he was today. Unfortunately, it hadn’t helped with his temper. If anything, his years in the Marines seemed to have honed his anger into something that he could use to push himself harder and faster so that nothing and no one could fucking touch him.
At times, Hunter felt invincible, and other times like now, when he’d fucked up his life once again, he felt like the biggest fucking loser alive. Pushing away those negative thoughts, because he knew that they wouldn’t do anything but hold him back, he grabbed a pair of gym shorts, socks, and his running shoes and got dressed.
Five minutes later, he was in the home gym that he’d set up last week, running on the treadmill and going numb as he pushed himself through his routine. He ran five miles on the treadmill, lifted weights for thirty minutes, and drank a protein shake he’d grabbed from the mini-fridge as he headed back to his room. After a hot shower, he changed his clothes, headed downstairs and frowned when he spotted the cute little thing that he was stuck with dragging a large black trash bag towards the front door.
Hunter noted that her hair was a mess and that her clothes were wrinkled and stained with God only knows what as she continued to drag that bag down the hallway through the surprisingly clean foyer. There was still damage to the walls
, but he hadn’t really expected miracles. Actually, he hadn’t expected much at all. He’d figured that she’d throw a fit, bitch and whine, and say the hell with this job and split.
Okay, so if he was actually going to be honest with himself, he’d admit that he’d completely forgotten about her and his asinine orders for her to clean the house. Hunter stood on the stairs for another minute wondering if he should tell her that the cleaning crew that he’d hired before he’d decided to throw his farewell to freedom party would be here in less than two hours to clean the house from top to bottom and fix any damage the assholes that he’d invited into his house had caused last night.
As he watched her struggling to drag that overfilled trash bag to the door that had to weigh more than she did, he simply shrugged and headed towards his office, reminding himself that he really didn’t fucking care if she’d wasted her entire night cleaning up after him.
*-*-*-*
She could not afford a ten-thousand dollar fine…
She could not afford a ten-thousand dollar fine…
She could not afford a ten-thousand dollar fine, Kylie kept chanting in her head as she watched the cleaning crew that her new boss had apparently hired to clean after the party set to work to fix the damage to the walls as several of the staff took a mop to the floor that she’d already scrubbed while others polished the doors, stairs, and trim that she’d spent the entire night cleaning. She was exhausted, hungry, and filthy and it was all for nothing, she realized with a pathetic groan as she walked past the workers who apparently didn’t think much of her cleaning job and headed for the front door.
Feeling numb, Kylie opened the door, walked outside and kept going until she found herself sitting behind the steering wheel of her car, tempted to say the hell with it, drive away and take her chances with his lawyer, but she knew that she couldn’t go, thanks to that ten-thousand dollar fine that she’d been thinking about all night. That contract couldn’t be legal, could it? God, she hoped not, because she really wasn’t sure that she could do this. When he’d first told her to clean the disgusting mess that was his house, Kylie told herself that it was part of the job and something that she was just going to have to suck it up. For the money that they were paying her, she could handle a little grunt work and miss a night of sleep.
She’d mentally prepared herself for the job ahead, telling herself that she could handle anything that he threw at her. That was until Kylie realized that he’d been screwing with her. He’d given her a job to do that he’d already hired professionals to handle and he’d done it without blinking an eye.
The man was cold-hearted, she realized, as she started the car, put it in drive and found herself driving in the opposite direction of his house. She should go back, thank him for this wonderful opportunity before she explained as politely as humanly possible, of course, that she had an aversion to assholes and would really appreciate it if he released her from her contract without putting a huge dent in her savings account. But something told her that he would just find something pointless for her to do, like clean the floors with a toothbrush or iron his socks and underwear.
The sad part was that Kylie would do it because she didn’t have a choice. She couldn’t afford that fine, but more importantly, she didn’t have anywhere else to go right now. It would take her weeks to find a new job and, in the meantime, she’d either have to sleep in her car or spend what was left of her savings after she paid the fine on a cheap motel room and live off ramen noodles.
Why hadn’t she taken that job in Providence when they’d offered it to her?
Because she hated the cold, it was too expensive to live there, and of course, she refused to ever set foot in Rhode Island again, she reminded herself as she took a right at the end of the street. As she drove down the street towards the supermarket that she’d spotted on her way here yesterday, Kylie considered getting herself fired, but she couldn’t risk a black mark on her resume.
Sighing heavily, she tried to look on the bright side of things. At least there was one less day that she had to spend in that house. That was something at least, Kylie told herself as she pulled into the large parking lot of the busy grocery store. She’d survived the night, and with any luck, she’d survive the next 364 days, because there was no way that she was going to allow herself to quit, not after everything she’d done to get here.
In the meantime, she was just going to have to suck it up, try to make the best of things and make this work. She could do it. Hell, she’d been through a lot worse and she’d survived. She’d survived being married to a sociopath for two years, so what was one year working for an asshole?
At least this job promised to be interesting, Kylie told herself with a sigh and a nod, because everything was going to be fine. She’d work her butt off, keep her mouth shut, and in a year, she would move on. She wasn’t happy about it, but she reminded herself that things would work out for her one day. She just had to bide her time, work towards her goals, and stay focused.
Everything would be okay, Kylie told herself, using the same mantra that she’d been using all her life. It had gotten her through worse situations than this. Nothing could be as bad as what she’d survived. Feeling her heart begin to race and her palms getting sweaty just thinking about all the things that she’d worked so hard to forget, Kylie closed her eyes, slowed her breathing and reminded herself that she was free. She had a safe place to stay, a good job, and the knowledge that her life would never be the hell that it had once been.
Chapter 5
He was already bored out of his fucking mind, Hunter realized, as he sat at the large oak desk that Ryan had arranged for him and stared out the double glass doors that overlooked the large in-ground pool that had been the deciding factor for buying this house. Sighing, Hunter tossed his pen on the desk and leaned back in his chair so that he could shift his attention to the ceiling. He needed something to do besides staring at walls all day, he realized, wracking his brain as he tried to think of something to do that wouldn’t bore him to fucking tears.
There was a reason why he’d never bothered buying a house before now, because he couldn’t tolerate feeling boxed in. At least with a hotel he could pack his shit up and leave when it felt like the walls were closing in, but with a house…
Shaking his head in disgust, he pushed his chair back and got to his feet. He needed a distraction before he lost his fucking mind. There was plenty of work that needed his attention, but right now, he couldn’t focus on any of that. He needed to move.
Besides, he needed to know how tight his leash was now.
With that in mind, Hunter walked over to the ugly pea green duffle bag that he’d been living out of since he’d left the Marines and searched until he found what he was looking for. Shaking the orange spray can that he used when he went on jobs to mark security concerns, he headed out the front door.
A high-pitched beep sounded when he was ten feet from the end of his driveway, signaling the first side of the invisible fence that was supposed to keep him locked away for the next twelve months. Grinding his jaw, he stepped back until the unit on his leg stopped beeping and marked the spot with a large “X.”
Walking towards the side of the large yard, Hunter marked intervals of ten feet until another beep had him placing a new mark and headed towards the back of his property, continuing to mark intervals at every ten feet. The next beep came before he made it to the woods that lined the back of his property. Turning to his right, he walked a straight line until he came to the other side of his property. From there he turned to the right and repeated the action until he came to the original line that marked off the front yard.
When he was done, Hunter tossed the can aside, looked around him, and nodded. He was definitely going to lose his fucking mind here. There was absolutely no doubt about it, he absently thought as he watched a small four-door sedan covered in dents and rust pull into his driveway.
It took him a few seconds to figure out who it was, and when he d
id, he couldn’t help but chuckle. She actually came back. He wasn’t sure if he should give her points for bravery or question her sanity for willingly coming back here when he would have fucking split the second the opportunity presented itself. She was definitely a glutton for punishment, Hunter decided, as he studied her for a moment, debating on what he was going to do with her.
He didn’t really need her for anything, but since she was here…
*-*-*-*
“Miss Daniels,” the deep voice that she was beginning to loathe drawled from right behind her.
Tightening her arms around her bag, her shoulders dropped in defeat. So much for getting a shower and a few hours of sleep in before facing her new boss, who just happened to be a criminal. Kylie wanted to ask him what he did, but then again, she was actually afraid that he might tell her and the answer would force her to do something stupid like flee.
So, she was going to keep her mouth shut no matter how badly she wanted to ask about his house arrest, and God, did she want to ask him. She’d Google his name later on her phone after she had some food in her stomach and a little sleep so that she was less likely to freak out over whatever she found.
But, for now…
“It’s Miss Davis,” Kylie reminded him, slapping a smile on her face as she turned around to face him. “Is there something that I can help you with, Mr. O’Mallery?” she asked, noting that he was taller than her, but then again, most people were, she thought as she discreetly took in the man that she was going to be working for.
He was also large, incredibly handsome, with short brown hair cut in a messy military style that only made him look more dangerous, a small scar along his temple, intense green eyes that were glaring at her and…
She decided that it would be in her best interest to stop staring at him now.
“Yes,” Hunter said, folding obscenely large arms over an equally large chest that had her once again forcing her mind away from that whole anger management issue that he seemed to have going for him. “I’m going to need you to run a few errands,” he said, sounding bored.
Devastated (Anger Management Book 1) Page 3