Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
The door to Hunter’s room swung open just as I lifted my hand to knock. A chick I had seen at the bar several times before sauntered out. She looked me up and down with a dismissive attitude.
“Where’s Hunter?”
“Hunter's down the hall having a shower,” she replied.
“I’ll wait.”
“I wouldn’t bother. We’ve got plans for later,” she advised me while staring at her nails.
She naively believed her dismissal would get to me, but it didn’t. It wasn’t the first time I’d had to interrupt him with a woman in his room, and it wouldn’t be the last. Most of the women mistook me for someone who reacted irrationally to jealousy. If I let any of these women get under my skin, I didn’t deserve my role with the Reapers.
“That’s fine. I’m still gonna wait.”
“Suit yourself,” she huffed. “Oh and if you’re here for a ride, you're gonna have to give him a minute or two to recover. I wore the man down last night.”
As if I didn’t already have enough on my plate with Dirk the ass munch, but now I had to deal with one of Hunter’s many conquests. Especially one who didn’t know how to read a room.
“You sure he's worn down and not just bored with your ass?”
“You bitch!” she shrieked, stepping forward into the hall to take a swing at me. A tanned arm going around her waist was the only thing that held her back.
“I wouldn't do that if I were you, Amber,” Hunter warned her. “Harleigh here will knock you into next week. You might even lose an extension or two.”
Involuntarily, I scanned his muscular tattooed body and paused just above where he cinched the towel sitting low on his hips. The cut of his muscles pointed down towards his towel.
What I wouldn’t do to be able to trail my fingers further down…
The gravity of the situation snapped me out of my fantasy. Because of his state of undress and his wet hair, he had come from where the showers were located. It was one thing hearing he was showering because of their all nighter, but it was another having it flaunted in your face.
“I don't use extensions,” she argued, completely missing the point.
“Really? You might want to get that checked out cause all the other guys you fucked downstairs said your hair fell out everywhere in their beds. They’re all so tired of waking up with them wrapped around their nut sacks that they just stopped hooking up with you.”
Lolita's (I refused to learn her name) hands flew up to her head as if to hold the rest of her hair in her scalp as she hurried down the hall. Hunter barked out a laugh as she tried to open the exit with her elbow, as if her hair would all fall out when she removed her hands. As soon as she got the door opened and left, he turned his attentions to me.
“Just for the record, I didn't fuck her.”
“I don't care if you did,” I lied, even though a part of me screamed inside. “I'm here cause we've got a job.”
Hunter and I hadn't brought up what happened between us, and it was killing me. It was as if it meant nothing, so I didn’t want to be the one to ask because I couldn’t stand another moment of rejection from him. For years I didn't go there, even though I wanted to. I just didn't think he felt the same way, and I didn't want a casual fuck to mess with our friendship.
“Let me get some clothes on.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Still didn't fuck her.”
“Still don't care,” I huffed.
“Me thinks doth protest too much.”
“Whatever Romeo. Go put some pants on to cover your third leg and let’s get going. Erik wants to debrief us in Church.”
He brought his hands to his chest, covering his heart emphatically, then said, “I knew you cared.”
“Stop stalling and get dressed!” I yelled, averting my eyes. “Hurry up or Erik will serve your balls on a platter as prairie oysters for the next BBQ.”
No wonder he had so many bitches lined up for a ride. Now I knew what they meant by the phrase save a horse ride a cowboy. Hunter might not actually be a cowboy, but he was hung like a horse.
For those of you out there new to our world, our church sessions might be on Sunday, but it was nothing like it. Our discussions were so far over on the other side of the spectrum, we probably looked like Satan worshipers.
Just for clarification, we weren’t.
How we made our living might skirt the line of being unholy, but we most definitely didn’t want to go to hell and strike up a conversation with him. If he actually existed, he and his sulphur marinated ass could get fucked for all I cared.
Honestly, and this was just my opinion, his persona was constructed so human beings could have someone to blame for all the evil they took part in.
Convicted cannibalistic serial killer? Not your fault, cause he was whispering sweet nothings in your ear.
Pedophilic Catholic priest? Poor baby. It must have been a demonic possession and if they hadn’t abolished exorcisms, you would have been okay.
The only times I had ever gone to church were for a wedding or funeral. Even then, it wasn’t a normal type of service. There were people I knew who found solace in the institution, but it just wasn’t the thing for me. I didn’t see the point of having someone preach to me when I had already read a couple versions of the Bible, and even half of the one hundred and fourteen suras of the Quran translated to English. I was pretty sure I got the gist of it.
Sometimes I considered showing up for a deep theological discussion might be good for the brain, but somehow I didn’t think they would appreciate my theories or what I did in my spare time.
Ten commandments and all that.