Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2
T hree years later
Hunter
I know what you did.
I sat back in my chair, glaring at the text for the third time. From an unknown goddamn source. The crystal glass of whiskey remained in one hand, my cell phone in the other. Was this some kind of joke? I’d done a hell of a lot of things in my thirty-eight years. Enough to know I had dozens, if not hundreds, of enemies. But what I’d done had all been for the betterment of the human race.
Or so I liked to tell myself.
Me: Who the fuck is this?
I waited, still staring at the screen. The other party was using an iPhone, which should mean I’d see the blips when they were typing. Either the text had been sent in error, or they weren’t interested in responding. I debated typing another nasty comment, my thumb poised to do so, but decided against it.
What was the point in getting into a battle of wills with an asshole who insisted on playing games? I took a swig of my drink, no longer tasting the smooth liquor that was usually my favorite beverage. I’d needed a bracer since my brother was about to walk down the proverbial aisle into holy matrimony.
To my mind, there was nothing holy about the state of marriage.
If I had the name of the texting asshole, I could hunt them down within three days. While I no longer remained tight with my previous team, I had favors I could call in if necessary, an emergency number I hadn’t used to date. However, without a doubt the unknown personality could be revealed in less than twenty-four hours.
But I was no longer a special operative and definitely not on the government’s payroll as a hired gun. I was currently serving as a civilian in bum-fuck USA, working at a beautiful—yet boring—mountain resort. I even looked the part of a forgotten-in-time mountain man with a beard and mustache. That was what tourists were looking for, big and rough.
The quick knock couldn’t force me out of my moment of anger. “What?”
My brother Jagger walked in, immediately looking at the time. “Aren’t you grouchy as fuck. Thirty minutes until show-and-glow time. You did bring your tux with you, I assume.”
I nodded toward the couch in my office where I’d tossed the suit bag when I’d walked in.
“You know Shephard will be pissed if you’re late.”
Yeah, my oldest brother could be demanding as fuck. Then again, all three of us were that way.
“Go attend to being his best man. I’ll be there.” With fucking bells on, acting as if I was happy for them.
As soon as Jagger started to leave, I returned my attention to the text, highlighting the screen once again. There was a list of enemies I’d need to think about, but most wouldn’t bother sending a text. They’d crash my party, putting a bullet between my eyes.
“Is something wrong?”
I threw him another look. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“O-kay, if you say so, buddy. Twenty-nine minutes.”
“Fuck off.”
He laughed while I grimaced, clenching my jaw. Whoever had sent me such a happy greeting wasn’t interested in playing. Whatever. I wasn’t going to waste any additional time on the motherfucker. When I stood, I tossed the chair against the wall from the force used.
Before I had a chance to grab the tux and walk out, another text rolled in. The phone still in my hand, I slowly turned the screen so I could see it.
Someone who’s watching you. Waiting.
What the fuck were they waiting for, a personal invitation? Well, they’d need to get in line. When I did allow them time, the brief discussion would be followed by a bullet between their eyes.
“Women. Goddamn all of them.” Yes, I was now grumbling out loud. That’s how much she pissed me off.
The woman in question threw me a look before I stormed to another part of the kitchen. One with less… heat. Grimacing, I slammed my hands onto one of the steel tables, jarring plates and silverware stacked and ready for the night’s festivities.
Yes, the woman was insanely talented. In the two months since she’d arrived, she’d brought verve back to every menu. People raved about her food. They came from other cities just for dinner. Some booked a room so they could enjoy more than a single meal. Our sales were up. Our complaints were down.
I should be happy.
Fuck, no.
Esme Dreyfuss drove me batshit crazy. She always had a better way, refusing to acknowledge my position. She was also incredibly eccentric and beautiful. The combination was deadly for a man like me. Even from where I was standing, I could see the sprinkle of freckles covering the bridge of her nose. I’d been thinking for six long weeks about stealing a kiss from her cherry red lips just to see if they tasted as sweet as they looked.
For all I knew, she’d inject me with poison the moment I did something so ‘atrocious,’ as she would say. Her bold curves called out the dominating man in me, but it was her eyes that kept me in a mindlock. They were silver-gray, like a moon shadowed by an upcoming storm. Soulful, yet haunted. She was a smart woman, with the ire of a venomous snake and a thick armor made of steel.
That was why I couldn’t stand her. She’d stood up to me ten times over. No one did that shit.
Being in charge of the dining portion of the goddamn resort once owned by my parents had never been on my bucket list. I was here as a courtesy to my ailing father, roped into staying for a whole fucking year.
I was a licensed, trained killer. Not some babysitter of a prima donna chef.
“Why are you in such a cranky mood on your brother’s wedding day?” Bella stood with her arms folded, glaring at me with one eyebrow raised. “Please don’t tell me it’s because it’s Valentine’s Day weekend.”
Love. It was in the air.
There were red and pink streamers and balloons, cakes decorated with cutesy little hearts, and roses on every table.
“I hate that shit too. There’s no such thing as true love.” As soon as I muttered the words, the woman laughed. Bella was my other brother’s bossy, bratty, and beautiful girlfriend. His words. Somehow, she had my grouchy brother wrapped around her little finger. He acted like he was floating on air lately. Then there was Shephard, the brother getting married. On today of all days.
The couple was as happy as could be, smooching anytime they got a chance.
However, neither their repulsive, lovey-dovey behavior nor the fact that I was a groomsman in my brother’s wedding was the reason for my rotten mood.
My new pain-in-the-ass chef held that distinction.
“That didn’t answer my question.” Bella wasn’t going to give up until I gave her a logical reason.
I grunted like some barbarian instead of providing one.
“Let me guess,” she said, a sly smile crossing her face. “Would your bad mood have something to do with my best friend, your new chef?”
“No!” I issued the single word too sharply.
“Uh-huh. What beef do you have with her?”
“Why? Are you in the resort’s kitchen?”
“Because Denise, the bride-to-be, asked me to check on… things. Did she overhear the two of you fighting?” Now Bella had both eyebrows lifted.
“We weren’t fighting. We were having a professional disagreement on how I wanted the reception handled. As you might be aware, Esme is highly spirited, which our guests adore, but she can be hard-headed as well. Given I’m the boss, what I decide goes. Period. End of story.”
Bella’s smile continued to increase. “Have you shared your feelings with her?” She leaned in, her expression turning mischievous. “And I’m not talking about your need for dominance in the resort.”
I cocked my head, giving her the same look I’d given Esme minutes before.
“She’s infuriating,” I admitted.
“She’s the best chef this resort has ever seen. Admit it.” Bella pointed her long finger in my direction.
“She’s a pain in my…”
“I sense a love story here. You fight. She fights back. You call her names. She does the same. A perfect match.”
Bull. Fucking. Shit. The fact that my new chef was beautiful as sin couldn’t enter into the equation. She pricked my skin.
Sadly, just thinking about her was like rocket fuel leading straight to my cock.
Jagger peeked his head in through the swinging door, almost getting his face bashed in doing so. Foxhead Resort was rocking, given the damn holiday. Every room and every restaurant in the resort was booked for a solid week. “My sweet little Bella. What are you doing in here?”
“Trying to remind your brother this is supposed to be a happy day.”
“I’m fine.” My insistence was met with a roll of Bella’s eyes.
I hated it when my brother snorted like he knew better. “You have five minutes to change, dude. Shephard will kick your butt if you’re two seconds late.”
“You mean Denise will kick it,” Bella piped in.
“As I said. Women. Can’t live with them and can’t fucking live with them.” My moods had gotten worse the last couple of weeks. Maybe it was the sixth sense rolling around in my head. Or the damn nightmares I’d had. The same kind I’d warned my brother about during his darkest phase. Yeah, I’d told him to seek help in dealing with his demons, but I wasn’t the kind of man to take my own advice.
“Get dressed, brother. Bella is right. This is a celebration,” Jagger told me, his expression as amused as the one Bella had given me.
Bella grinned before walking out of the kitchen, leaving me to take a deep breath.
The door leading from another one of the dining rooms was slammed open, Esme muttering something to the waitress following closely behind.
“Make certain the sternos are flaming when I give you the cue. The wedding ceremony should take fifteen minutes, tops. The food needs to be out the moment the guests move into the ballroom. Do you understand?” Esme’s request was more like a demand.
“Yes, chef,” the waitress muttered, her harried look a reflection of her despondency.
“Good. I think we’re almost ready.” Esme clapped her hands, lifting her head. The moment she noticed I’d dared to remain inside her kitchen, she cocked her pretty head and grimaced.
There was such extreme electricity between us anytime we were in the same room that I was shocked the entire area hadn’t burst into flames.
Even the sous chef moved out of the way as Esme advanced. She was a force to be reckoned with, her quirky ways something a person would either consider annoying or adorable. Since I found her brash and intolerable, I was leaning toward the hate side of the equation.
For some unknown reason other than that Shephard’s soon-to-be wife was still relatively new to town, Esme was a bridesmaid. I was used to seeing the annoying chef in black pants and a chef’s coat. While it had been one hell of a long time since I’d savored either the company or touch of a woman, the dress chosen for the celebration snagged every bit of my attention.
She appeared as if poured into the dress, the fiery crimson color accentuating the fire in her eyes, the thin material hugging every inch of her voluptuous curves. I’d need to be completely dead not to appreciate such beauty.
Of course she noticed my lasting gaze, amused at my actions. I didn’t need a lesson in dealing with a difficult woman to tell what she was thinking. This bozo thinks he’s going to rip off my thong.
Well, that was the furthest thing from my mind.
Okay, to be honest with myself and no one else, I had thought too many times about sliding my hand down the front of her trousers, flicking the tip of my finger across her sweet clit. Call me barbaric in my thinking, but it had been long enough since I’d been with a woman that I had no ability to think any differently.
That didn’t mean I would act on my desires. Nope. Not this man.
“You didn’t secure the extra staff we needed for today. Did you?” Since day two, Esme had been accusatory when making suggestions. Most employers would fire her sweet ass on day three, but her spunk had awakened something inside of me. For good or bad, she’d wormed her way into the world of Foxhead Resort and Winery.
“There were none available. It is fucking Valentine’s Day weekend.”
“What do you have against the holiday?”
“Try everything. Love is bullshit.”
“At least we agree on something,” Esme huffed. “I’m going to need your assistance for the reception if we’re going to pull this off. And we will make the event a success. Do you hear me?”
There were about a dozen things I wanted to spout off to the arrogant woman and likely should. I was a fucking Navy SEAL, for God’s sake. In my career, I’d gotten used to barking orders instead of taking them.
“Fine,” I snapped. “But you’ll owe me.”
“Fine. Be careful what you ask for.”
“ Dolore al culo. ”
She winked before heading to the door leading to the lobby. “I’ve been called a pain in the ass more times than I can count. Cowboy.”
Great. She knew Italian as well. Cowboy? Jesus Christ.
The woman was going to be the death of me.