Chapter Twenty-Four
Hunter
I should know better.
That’s the first thought that blasts through my mind when I wake up beside Emily, the two of us knotted together like tangled vines. Her soft breath tickles my neck, and for a moment, I allow myself to bask in the warmth of her body against mine. But reality crashes down like a tidal wave, drowning out the fleeting contentment.
I should know better than to let myself get this close. To anyone. Especially her.
Carefully, I extricate myself from Emily's sleeping form, trying not to disturb her. She stirs slightly, a small frown creasing her forehead, but doesn't wake. I stand beside the bed, watching her for a long moment. She looks so peaceful, so innocent, so undeserving of being ensnared in my life and all the dangers involved in it — dangers she doesn’t even know about.
But even as I look down at her and know that she’s better off without me, I feel as happier than I’ve ever felt in my life. In this empty house that isn’t mine, with the baby that isn’t mine peacefully asleep in the next room, with a woman who doesn’t know the half of who I am, I’ve built something close to a home.
A fucking home.
A laugh — short, quickly silenced — breaks from my lips at the thought.
Me, the guy who’s spent most his life wandering, a happily unattached nomad who swore he’d never settle down, now has a home.
I go to the kitchen and start making coffee. It’s almost dawn, Charlie will be up soon, and when he wakes up, Emily will probably end up waking, too. I have to be ready. Which means coffee’s essential.
As the coffee maker burbles away, I look back into the living room. My eyes are drawn to Emily, to the smile on her face, the dimples that rise on her cheeks, her hair that I just want to stroke and hold — and tug while I fuck her from behind — and realize that, even though I should know better, there’s no stopping it now. I’m hooked on her.
Which means, if I can’t stop this, I have to do better. Be prepared, step up as a soldier, and do what I do best — make things safe for her.
But how?
I pour a cup of coffee and stare into the black.
I’ve got guns, training, and killer instinct, but I’ve also got a baby, and now a woman I care about. There’s only so much I can do and so many places I can be at once. Things may be progressing with the club, soon I may have a Twisted Devils cut on my shoulder, even if it’s as a prospect, but I have no idea how much longer Havoc and Mayhem will keep stringing me along, or how dangerous or insane the jobs they give me might become.
I need help.
Fortunately, although I’m an irresponsible, family-less bastard who often prefers to go his own way, it doesn’t mean I don’t have friends. Or, at least, people who like me enough that they’d risk their lives helping me out against an angry drug boss and his trained killers.
I make the easiest call first. It rings once, gives me a message that this number is out of a cell phone service area, and then an angry voice barks, ‘Leave a message.’
Which is what I do. “This is Hunter. I’m in Ironwood Falls, Oregon. It’s an SOS situation. Come when you can.”
The next call is harder.
It rings, then a cheery voice answers. “Hunter, long time. What’s wrong now?”
“How do you know something’s wrong, Diesel?”
“Why else would you call me?” He says. He doesn’t sound put-off by it, just curious.
“To… talk…” I say, hating how forced it sounds. “Fuck it. Yeah, I’ve got a situation.”
“Good, I’m glad you’re not trying to patronize me by putting up a front. I hate that. Tell me what’s up, brother.”
“Well… I’m a dad, now.”
“Holy fuck. What? How much did I fucking miss? Who’s the lucky lady? You have a lot of explaining to do, man.”
My eyes drift to Emily at the words ‘lucky lady,’ and then go back to my coffee. I have to focus, not get wrapped up in distractions, no matter how pleasant.
“The kid’s not mine. And there is no lucky lady.”
“Did you adopt? And no lucky lady… does that mean…?”
“It means my brother’s dead, and the kid is actually my nephew,” I say, keeping my voice down, so as not to wake up Emily. “Both Tyler and Kate are dead. Killed by men who work for some drug boss named Victor Moretti. He and his gang were trying to force Tyler into running product for them or something. I don’t know, I didn’t get a fucking briefing, just walked into my brother’s home to find him and his wife dead, the place on fire, and Charlie screaming his lungs out from his crib. So I’m his dad now. I’m all the kid’s got…”
“Oh fuck, man, what do you need from me? Do you want to talk? I was about to go out and break some guy’s legs for a collection job, but I got time. Busting kneecaps can wait.”
“Talk? You think I called to talk?”
“That is what people do when they call someone, right? Talk to me. Tell me what you’re feeling.”
“Feeling? I haven’t had time to—”
“Damn it, Nick, you can’t just shove this shit down. Your brother fucking died, man, and so did his wife, and you’re now raising a little baby? If I was in your shoes, I’d be so angry, and so, so fucking afraid—”
I cut him off. Not because he isn’t right, because he is — every time I look at Charlie there’s a part of me, buried deep, that screams about how I’m responsible for the smallest, most fragile little life I’ve ever seen, and I have to do everything in my power to shelter it from every danger in the world. The slightest slip-up could snuff him out, and that idea scares the life out of me.
“Diesel, please.”
“Yeah, Nick?”
“Not now. You’re right that I haven’t talked with anyone, but that’s because there hasn’t been any time, not to mention anyone to talk to, either,” I say, which isn’t entirely true. There’s someone I could talk to, and she’s asleep peacefully on my couch. She’d listen, I’m sure, and she might even say something comforting… before she ran for the door because I’m a single-dad raising his dead brother’s son and being hunted by hired killers. Some grand fucking catch I am. No, she can’t find out. “I called because I need someone I can trust to help watch my back. Moretti’s men are after me, and they’re close.”
“You call Tank?”
“Left him a message. Figure he’s out in the wilderness somewhere and will get back to me when he’s in cell range.”
“Sounds about right for him. Last time I talked to him, he mentioned something about some job in Alaska.”
“So it’ll be a fucking while. Great.”
“But you got me. Soon as I go break this guy’s kneecaps, I’ll be on my way. You got somewhere I can stay?”
“Got an entire house, as long as you don’t mind rooming with me and a baby.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time. See you soon, brother.”
He hangs up, and I'm left staring at my phone, a mixture of relief and anxiety churning in my gut. Diesel's coming. That's good. He's a solid guy, handy in a fight, and someone I trust with my life. But bringing him here also means bringing the danger closer to Emily and Charlie. It's a calculated risk, but one I have to take.
I hear a soft whimper from the other room. Charlie's awake. I hurry to the nursery, hoping to get to him before his cries wake Emily. As I enter the room, I see his little face scrunched up, ready to wail. I scoop him up, cradling him against my chest.
"Hey, little man," I whisper. "Uncle Hunter's got you."
The words feel strange on my tongue. Uncle Hunter. Or, really, dad. I'm still not used to any of it. Charlie settles against me, his tiny fist gripping my shirt. I rock him gently, pacing the room.
"We're gonna be okay," I murmur, more to myself than to Charlie. "We've got help coming. We'll figure this out."
I hope.
Because my life has never more resembled a house of cards than it does in this moment. Every second, Moretti and his men get closer, and the people I care about get closer to death.
Charlie gurgles softly, and I look down at his innocent face. He does not know the peril he's in, how close death lurks. Neither does Emily. She’s still fast asleep on the couch. Part of me wants her to wake up, to see her smile and feel her touch. But the larger part knows it's better if she stays asleep, oblivious to the danger surrounding us. I've faced dangerous situations before, but never with so much at stake.
One wrong move, one moment of carelessness, and it could all come crashing down.
Unless I stop it.
I make a final phone call.
“Hunter? It’s early. What is it?”
“No more small jobs. No more fucking around with Ninja Turtles. I want in.”
Charlie burps and giggles.
“Was that you?”
I shake my head, even though I’m on the damn phone. “No. That was my baby. It’s morning, and he’s gassy, but that’s not the point. I’m done with the small jobs. With the errands. I want your backing to join the MC, so whatever I have to do, you figure it out and I’ll do it.”
“One big job? You sure you know what you’re asking?”
“One big job. And I’ve never been more sure in my life.”
A pause, then a sigh, as if he’s hesitating, as if I don’t know what I’m asking. But I’m well aware of what I’m asking, and why I’m asking, too — I’m holding my reason in my arms.
“OK, Hunter. We’ll be in touch soon, and you had better be ready. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”