Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
HUNTER
By the time I pulled up in front of my house, the tenuous hold I’d had on my temper had gotten a little stronger. I could still feel the rage bubbling inside me, but it was more of a simmer than a full, rolling boil.
Just as I killed the engine, the front door opened, backlighting Lincoln’s large figure as he stood in the doorway, arms crossed, feet shoulder-width apart.
He stayed in that position, standing sentry, until I ascended the porch steps. Only then did he step out and close the door behind him.
“She okay?” I asked, tilting my chin up at the front door.
“Out like a light. Has been since her head hit the pillow.”
I felt my lungs expand in the first breath of relief I’d felt all damn night. “Good. Thanks for staying with her,” I said as I started past him, reaching for the knob.
He spoke over my shoulder, and what he said froze me to the spot. “Wouldn’t have had to if your head hadn’t been up your ass.”
I slowly turned to look back at my boss, my brother, a man I held great respect for. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
He propped his hands on his hips as he glowered.
“You left her alone tonight.”
“I needed to take care of something,” I bit back, my ire rising at having to explain myself. If anyone could understand what I’d been feeling, it should have been Lincoln. “You were here to keep her safe.”
From his darkening expression, that had been the wrong thing to say.
“Usually, when a man orders that a woman who’s just been attacked will be staying with him in his house, he’s the one doing the protecting.
But instead of doing that, you abandoned her to go off on some insane mission for revenge that isn’t even yours to have. ”
I threw my arm out, pointing in the direction of the living room window. “You see the bruises on her throat?”
“Sure the hell did. But I have to ask, is she your woman?”
Fucking hell. “She’s my friend.”
His eyes widened and his chin jerked back, sarcasm dripping from his tone as he said, “Is that so? In that case, she would have been just fine staying with her sister and West.”
My molars ground together as one thought ran through my head: Over my dead body.
“You’re a smart man, Hunter. I wouldn’t have hired you all those years ago if I’d doubted that for even a second.
But the bullshit you pulled tonight, that was just plain stupid.
Stupid and fucking reckless. You not only put yourself in danger, but Marco too.
And you didn’t even stop to think about how what you were doing could affect the prosecution’s case when we finally do track this motherfucker down.
So I feel like I have to ask, is she safe with you?
Really and truly safe? Because if you can’t get your shit together, I’ll take her back with me and work something else out. ”
The muscles in my neck and back strained tight as everything Lincoln had just said hit home in a really painful way.
He was absolutely right. I’d fucked up, going off the way I had.
I was better than that, but I’d let emotion dictate my actions. That was something that had been trained out of me years ago. The Navy had seen to that, and even if they hadn’t, the SEALs certainly did. I should have known better.
Pulling in a steady breath through my nose, I released the fists my hands had been clenched in and flexed my fingers out.
“She’s safe with me,” I proclaimed. “You have my word. And the shit I pulled tonight won’t happen again.”
Lincoln took a few seconds to study me; that was just his way. The man was calm and cool under the tensest circumstances, and he never acted without thought. Finally, he nodded and released his stance. “All right then. I’ll leave you to it.”
I stood on the porch as he climbed into his own truck, remaining rooted to the spot until his taillights eventually disappeared.
With a heavy sigh, I twisted the knob and threw the door open, only to freeze on the spot the moment I stepped inside, because right there on my couch, fast asleep, was Serenity.
I’d been so laser focused earlier, that I hadn’t bothered to stop and think about what I was saying when I’d ordered that she would be staying with me. I hadn’t thought about the fact that I only had one bed in the entire house.
The tight ball she was holding herself in in her sleep was like a fist to the chest. She just looked so goddamn tiny and helpless.
I moved closer, pulling that jasmine scent into my lungs. The bruises on her throat looked even worse than they had when I first saw them in the back of the ambulance, so dark and ugly against her creamy alabaster skin.
She’d had one hell of a night, and instead of being able to sleep comfortably, there she was on a fucking couch. Christ, Lincoln was right. I was an asshole.
I moved through the house as silently as possible, locking everything up and turning off all of the lights except for a single standing lamp in the living room, next to the fireplace.
My leg gave a twinge when I crouched to pick Serenity up, but I gritted my teeth and worked through the pain. I’d had that goddamn prosthesis on for too long now, and I was starting to pay for it.
With her scent in my lungs and her weight in my arms, her soft curves molding against me, I carried her into my bedroom and gently placed her in my bed.
I watched as she rolled onto her side, giving me her back, and wrapped her arm around one of my pillows, pulling it flush against her on a deep inhale.
She snuggled into the mattress once I pulled the covers over her long, creamy legs, and the instant the dark navy sheet settled over her, I was hit with the sensation that she looked right, spread out in the middle of my bed like that. She belonged.
Christ, that wasn’t a thought I had any business entertaining.
With a weary sigh, I scrubbed my hands over my face and, as hard as it was, I turned away and softly pulled the door closed behind me, ignoring the voice in my head that screamed at me to just curl up beside her.
Once I was back in the living room, exhaustion from the night overcame me. I barely had the energy to strip down and remove my prosthesis and sleeve before stretching out on the sofa and throwing the blanket Serenity had been using over me.
The pillow beneath my head smelled just like her, and it was on that thought that I closed my eyes and drifted off.
For the first night in weeks, I didn’t have nightmares about fire and explosions and pain.
Instead, I dreamed of a honey-haired woman with inquisitive hazel eyes and the most beautiful laugh I’d ever heard.
Serenity
I woke up with a jolt, the sound of Cyrus Whitlock’s voice and the feel of his hands on my throat yanking me from my sleep.
I pulled in a startled breath and shot up, my muddled brain taking a few beats to reengage and remember. I got away. Cyrus wasn’t here. He couldn’t get to me. Because I was at Hunter’s house.
On that thought, I looked around, my brow knitting in confusion at my surroundings. When I’d fallen asleep, I’d been on Hunter’s couch, but that certainly wasn’t where I’d woken up.
I tried to find something that might indicate where I was, but there didn’t seem to be many personal items lying around, so it was hard to be sure. The most telling thing, however, was the fact that the room was full of Hunter’s masculine, intoxicating scent.
It was also surprisingly clean and well put together, given that it was the room of a bachelor.
I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting, maybe a cross between frat boy and middle-aged male living alone, meaning sparsely decorated and messy, but that wasn’t the case at all.
The furniture was bold and solidly built, stained a nice, dark color that matched Hunter’s personality perfectly. The dark blue sheets I was lying between were soft and warm, and the bedspread on top matched perfectly.
There were beautiful bay windows that had wooden blinds, currently closed against the faint light glowing outside, and above the bed hung a black and white photo that had been blown up and framed.
I twisted and scooted across the mattress on my knees to get a better look, and sure enough, it was a picture of Hope Valley, taken, it looked like, from an overlook or cliff somewhere high up in the mountains.
Beside the dresser and a single nightstand, the only other furniture in the room, was a well-worn leather chair and small side table tucked under the windows beside a single bookshelf that was crammed with books.
Curiosity got the best of me, and I threw my legs over the side of the bed, padding quietly to the shelf to get a look.
On the table by the chair was a tattered thriller paperback with a receipt tucked between the pages as a bookmark.
The book looked like it had been read multiple times.
As a matter of fact, all the books on the shelf looked well-loved and worn, meaning not only was Hunter an avid reader, but he reread the ones he favored over and over again.
Nature called just then, pulling me from my snooping. Not knowing the time or where Hunter was, I tiptoed to the door and slowly pulled it open so as not to make any noise.
When I didn’t see him anywhere in the hall, I quickly shuffled across to the bathroom I’d used the night before and closed myself inside.
A quick glance in the mirror had me flinching.
The bruises on my throat were even worse this morning than they had been the night before—I didn’t have a clue how it was possible for them to have grown even darker overnight, but somehow, they had.
Another thing working against me was my hair. Going to sleep with it wet had been a mistake, because when I pulled the clip out and let the length tumble down my back, it was full of wild, unruly waves.
I tamed it the best I could, then brushed my teeth and washed my face, making sure not to skip the moisturizer this time, before I left the bathroom in search of coffee.
I rounded the corner into the living room and came to a dead stop at the sight of Hunter asleep on the couch.
The breath stalled in my lungs and my mouth dried up as my eyes scanned his body.
He was currently stretched out on his back, the flimsy blanket I’d been using the night before was thrown over his lower body, leaving him bare from the waist up.
Rippled planes of muscle started at his chest and trailed all the way down his abdomen before disappearing beneath the blanket.
He had one arm folded across his stomach, and the other was tossed carelessly over his head, bent at the elbow in a way that accentuated his thick bicep and corded forearm.
He was a freaking Adonis. His likeness should have been carved from marble and put in a museum somewhere.
I licked my lips as my eyes dipped lower, taking in those sexy-as-hell muscles that formed a V at his hips, like a damn arrow pointing to the promised land.
But that was where my perusal ended, because I noticed something propped against the coffee table in front of the couch that made me pause.
I tiptoed closer for a better look and sucked in a breath when I finally realized what it was.
All of a sudden, so many things about Hunter started to make sense, from the slight hitch in his gait to the shadows that lingered in his eyes.
I could only imagine what had happened to cause the loss of his leg.
It couldn’t have been something from his childhood, because he’d been in the military for years. My gut told me that this was the cause of his retirement from the SEALs, and that knowledge made me incredibly sad.
“You know, it won’t jump up and kick you,” he said, giving me a little start.
My gaze ripped off the prosthetic leg and shot up to his icy blues, glassy with sleep and somewhat guarded as he lay there, studying my expression.
“Then you got ripped off,” I said, unsure of where the words were coming from, but unable to stop them nonetheless. “I heard the newfangled ones will even dance a little jig for you.”
His eyes widened for just a second before a bark of flabbergasted laugher burst from his throat.
“Gotta say, Wildcat, I didn’t expect that kind of reaction. Usually when people find out I’m missing half a leg, I either get pity or unbridled curiosity. A time or two there was even a bit of disgust.”
For crying out loud, people really were the worst sometimes.
I shrugged. “Do you want my pity?”
His gaze went hard as he sat up and twisted, throwing his legs over the side and tossing the blanket back to give me a clear view.
Sure enough, the left one had been amputated a couple inches below the knee.
When I lifted my gaze back to his, he was waiting, scrutinizing to see if there was disgust. He wasn’t going to get that kind of reaction from me.
“Not even a little.”
“Do you want me to ask you a bunch of invasive, personal questions?”
He hooked a single eyebrow up. “Can it wait until after coffee?”