Chapter Eight
Hunter
I level the gun at her head and peer into her eyes. Looking’s the easy part — she’s got eyes I could get lost in for days — but it’s the searching that’s hard. This life has taught me that there comes a moment when someone is facing the end of theirs that, if you look hard enough, you can see the truth in their eyes. Maybe it’s the soul prepping to leave the body, maybe it’s the brain dumping a flood of chemicals through the body to prepare it for the end, but whatever it is, it’ll show you the truth of their character if you’re looking for it.
I need to know just who it is that I’m dealing with, so I aim the gun at Emily and I put her in that situation, as hard as it is to do.
Her eyes dilate, go glassy, then glassier still.
Then wet.
Then she cries.
Thick, wet tears that build at the brims of her eyes and leave trails down her cheeks.
“Oh shit,” I mutter. “Oh fuck. Don’t do that.”
My hand shakes, just like my resolve, and I look away for a moment. This isn’t what I wanted. All I wanted was to know who she was and if I could trust her, not to make her cry.
A sob breaks her lips. “I’m sorry. All I wanted with all of this was to make sure that your baby is OK. He’s tiny and really cute and he seemed sick. I just wanted to help you. I don’t know anything else. Sophie doesn’t either. You have to believe me. Please. And if you don’t, if you’re going to kill anyone, just kill me and let her go. Sophie’s here because she’s my friend, and I asked her to be. She doesn’t deserve to be hurt.”
“Listen to her,” Sophie calls out from the kitchen, where she’s still bound to the chair. “Well, not about the killing part. If you shoot her, you’re going to have to shoot me, too, because I’ll fucking come for you when you least expect it and rip your eyes out with my fingernails. I’ve done it before. But listen to her about the baby stuff. Emily loves babies. She’s great with them, and she knows medicine, too. We were just trying to help.”
I barely hear Sophie’s entreaties. All I hear, all I see, is the weeping woman in front of me.
“Fuck, I didn’t mean to—”
A new sound cuts me off as Charlie adds his wails to the mix.
The baby’s cry pierces through the tense air, sharp and desperate. I lower the gun slightly, my heart clenching. I didn’t want this. I never wanted this.
“Goddamnit. Both of you, please, stop crying,” I say. “Fucking hell.”
I glance back at the couch where Charlie writhes, his tiny fists balled up with a fury that only a baby's cry can convey. The room feels suddenly too small, the air thick with tension and guilt. Emily’s tear-streaked face blurs in my vision, and I feel the weight of my mistake pressing down on me like a thousand stones.
Emily’s tears come thicker now, and she glances over towards the couch, where Charlie wails louder with each second
It doesn’t matter that I’ve got a gun in my hands, these two have disarmed me.
“Please,” Emily whispers, her voice trembling. “Let me help him.”
Sophie’s eyes meet mine from across the room, fierce determination mingling with fear. “If you care about that baby at all, let her do what she does best.”
My hand lowers the gun, almost involuntarily. This isn’t who I am; this isn’t how I wanted things to go. Trust is such a fragile thing, but right now, for Charlie’s sake, I need to grasp it.
“Alright,” I say hoarsely, taking a step back and lowering the gun to my side. “Help him. But know that if you try anything—”
“I won’t,” Emily assures me quickly, wiping her tears on her sleeve. She moves towards the crib with purposeful strides, her maternal instincts taking over as she scoops Charlie up into her arms.
Her touch seems to calm him instantly, and his cries soften into whimpers, and those whimpers turn into coos and giggles in what seems like the blink of an eye. In moments, the lucky little guy is looking at her like she’s the only thing in the world he can see and he’s damn happy about it.
Fuck, am I jealous of a baby? Maybe.
Humming a lullaby that seems to put Charlie into a trance, while also leaving me feeling more relaxed than I’ve felt since this nightmare started, Emily sits down on the couch while rocking the little guy in her arms. All traces of who she used to be — scared, weeping, a shaking woman on the verge of a total breakdown — are gone, replaced by someone with wet cheeks and a steely and kind heart. She’s not a plant, she’s not working for Moretti — because there’s no way in hell someone like Emily would get within a mile of Victor Moretti — she’s the real deal. An honest, caring person.
Shakily, she clears her throat and fixes me with a stern, glassy look. “I have a lot of questions for you, Mr… Nick. If that is your real name.”
“It is. Or you can call me ‘Hunter.’ One’s my real name, one’s my road name, and I’ll answer to either.”
“Hunter?” Something curious flickers in her voice. “How’d you get that name? Do you hunt… people?”
Her eyes land heavily on my gun.
Shit, does she think I’m a serial killer?
“In case you’re confused, dude, she thinks you’re really sus, and she’s right,” Sophie calls from the kitchen.
“Sus?” I say.
“Short for ‘suspicious.’ It’s something people younger than ‘old’ say,” Sophie retorts.
“I’m not that old,” I answer, feeling my back tighten, though whether that’s from the indignity of Sophie’s statements or the fact that I’ve been sleeping only a handful of hours for the last few days and, when I do sleep, it’s on floors and couches and, yeah, maybe time is starting to catch up with me because I live a fucking hard life, is another matter entirely. “I got the name ‘Hunter’ from my dad. We went hunting together once, sort of a father-son bonding thing. But I wasn’t a good shot back then, missed everything I aimed at, and my dad was a piece of shit who decided he’d give me that name to make fun of me. I kept it as motivation to remind myself to never let abusive assholes like him keep me down… even if I don’t care about hunting that much. There’s no fun in going after animals that can’t fight back.”
“And Charlie is your son?” Emily says.
“He’s the only family I’ve got.”
“Where’s his mother?”
“Dead,” I say, plainly. She flinches.
“Why are you and a baby carrying a bunch of weapons and sleeping in vacant houses?” Emily says.
I pause, considering just how much to tell her. She’s saved Charlie’s life and I have the nagging, annoying feeling that she might just be a decent person who I can trust. Which means she’s entitled to a small portion of the truth. I owe her that. But how much can I tell her without putting her in danger?
“Charlie was in a dangerous situation and I had to get him out of there. There wasn’t time for anything except for grabbing him and getting on the road,” I say, my eyes settling on his face. His pudgy cheeks are flushed with his recent emotions and, possibly, with fever. A warmth that I can’t fight enters my voice while looking at him. “All I could think about is getting him out of there and making sure he’s safe. He’s my priority.”
Along with revenge.
But I don’t need to tell Emily and Sophie about my burning desire to find Victor Moretti and the men he sent to murder my brother and his wife and tear them apart piece by piece while they weep and beg for mercy.
“He’s your priority?” She says.
“I’d die before I’d let anything bad happen to him,” I say.
She pauses a moment, looking from me to him, and then back to me. “I believe you. At least, I believe you believe you’re doing the right thing for Charlie. But you’re not.”
“What do you mean?”
“How long do you plan to keep on running, Nick?”
I release a sigh. I want to say that I’ll do whatever it takes, that I’ll go as far as I have to in order to make sure that Charlie is safe. But even I can see that even these last few days of being on the move have taken their toll on him; he’s a baby, and I can’t let any desires or concerns supersede that. Whatever I decide, I have to keep in mind that there’s only so much Charlie can give.
“What are you getting at?”
“This isn’t good for him, and it isn’t good for you, either. You both need stability, a place to rest and recuperate, a plan that doesn’t involve running from shadows all the time. You can’t go on like this forever. If you keep on this way, you’re going to burn out — or worse, get caught by whatever it is you’re trying to get away from.”
Emily’s words hit hard, and I know she’s right. The constant movement is draining every ounce of energy I have. My body aches, and every day, I feel myself wearing down, and I know it won’t be much longer before I’m of no use to Charlie as a guardian. This life isn’t doing Charlie any good either. He needs a safe environment to grow up in, not a life on the run.
“Do you have a plan?” she presses gently. “A long-term plan?”
“I...” I hesitate. My plan has always been to get revenge on Moretti and his men, but that doesn’t exactly provide the stability or safety Charlie needs. “I don’t know,” I admit finally. “I’ve been so focused on keeping us one step ahead of… what I need to keep ahead from… that I haven’t thought too far ahead.”
“Well, maybe it’s time you did,” Emily says softly, rocking Charlie, who has now dozed off in her arms. He looks so calm, so peaceful; I’ve never seen him like this before. “You’re not alone anymore, Nick. You have Charlie and... maybe you don’t have to do this by yourself.”
Her eyes meet mine, and there’s an unspoken offer there — help, support, an ally in this chaos I’ve found myself in.
But letting her in would mean opening us both up to so much risk.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying you need to slow down, stop for a while, let Charlie rest and recover from everything he’s been through, at least. If you stay in town, you won’t be taking care of Charlie alone. You’ll have help. You’ll have me.”