Hunter #2
“How are you at climbing?” I ask, ignoring his question. Yanking him to his feet with me, I pull out my gun and make sure it’s loaded, mostly out of habit. There’s a spare magazine in the inner pocket of my jacket and in the holster itself.
“Why the hell are you carrying a gun?” he asks weakly. There’s no trace of red on his cheeks now; he’s paler than I’ve ever seen him.
“Not the time for questions, we need to move. Unless you want to get shot?”
“It wasn’t on today’s to-do list!” he says, a little hysteria entering his voice.
“Back door,” I prompt.
“Oh my God, what is happening right now?” he mutters to himself while leading me through the warm, cozy home. I wish I had more time to admire it, that things were different. A pointless road to travel.
We’re in the kitchen when the front door is kicked in. Matthew jolts in panic, and he grabs my side.
“Relax,” I soothe, closing the sliding door between us and the hallway.
“Keep going.” I don’t know how many there are, and I’d rather not stick around to find out.
If I were by myself or with someone who could handle themselves in this situation, then I might do it differently.
My only concern right now is getting Matthew somewhere safe.
He trips on his way to the door and fumbles with the doorknob. A man crashes into the kitchen behind us. When I fire, he yells in surprise, ducking his head. Another shot, and the attacker is dead on the floor, blood pooling under his head. At least it wasn’t on the carpet.
“What did you—”
“Don’t turn around,” I order. “Open the door, Matthew.”
“It—it’s open.”
“Go through it.”
“Right.”
When I reach the door, he makes the mistake of turning around and looking back into the kitchen. His eyes widen in horror. “You killed him.”
“Would you rather I let him shoot you?” There’s no back gate, and we can’t go back around the front. The best way is up and over. “Time to climb.” I’m especially glad that I didn’t park out the front, otherwise getting out of this situation would be a hell of a lot harder.
“Climb? You mean over the fence? Yeah, no fucking way. I’m not one of those fitness guys that can lift themselves up over anything. I play PlayStation on the weekends while there are reruns of Stargate on in the background.”
Cute. “Let me boost you. Hurry.” There’s a yell from inside—they must have found their friend—and it won’t be long before they come this way, looking for us.
Momentarily placing my gun on the ground beside us—the feeling of vulnerability sits uncomfortably—I lace my fingers and get on one knee. “Now, Matthew.”
He swears more than a few times as he braces himself with hands on my shoulders and then hikes himself up and over the wooden fence. Based on the curse and thud as he hits the ground on the other side, I doubt he landed gracefully. At least he’s alive and uninjured.
By the time I join him, he’s dusting himself off, and there are bits of grass in his hair.
“Are you alright?”
He looks at me like I’ve suddenly sprouted a second head. Perhaps two more. “Oh, yeah, peachy. And hey”—he spreads his arms a little—“there are no new holes in me, so that’s a win, isn’t it?”
“In this case, absolutely.” If these people are associated with the kind that Xavier attracts, then we’re both lucky to have gotten out of this so relatively unscathed. They were staking on the drive-by finishing the job quickly. That’s the only thing keeping us alive.
He briefly closes his eyes with a light shake of his head. “This is—nope, can’t think about it. Not thinking about it. I can’t—”
“Matthew.” A hand on the side of his neck stops him in his tracks, and the rambling words dry up. “I’ll keep you safe, I promise. And then I’ll try to explain as much as I can. I need you to trust me, okay?”
He nods shakily. “Yeah, okay.” There’s still no colour in his face, but his words don’t have the same waver as before. He’s gathering his composure with more grace than I was expecting.
“My car is a block that way. All we need to do is get to it, and then we’re safe, okay?
” It’s not quite that simple, and if they pursue us in the car, then we’re in a different kind of trouble, but that’s not information that will do him any good.
Small white lies, under the circumstances, will keep him alive.
Grasping his elbow, I nudge him in the right direction.
“This way. It won’t take long for them to figure out where we’ve gone. ”
Taking hold of his hand is the best way to ensure that he’s right by me, and it still allows me to hold my gun—concealed under my jacket—as we hurry towards my car.
Running will only draw attention to us but walking at a leisurely pace isn’t an option.
I need Matthew in my car and far away from here.
I glance behind me more than a few times, ensuring we aren’t being followed. Once we’re around the corner and out of sight of the fence line, I breathe a little easier.
“Which—which car is yours?” he asks. “I didn’t see it last night.”
No, though he saw a lot of other things I didn’t have any intention of showing him. Instead of answering, I lift my fob and unlock it. Matthew sees the blinking lights and circles around to the passenger seat.
Neither of us says a word as we jump in, and I speed off before even putting on my seat belt. He does his own with shaking hands and glances at where mine is still not done, brows furrowed.
“Do it up for me?” I ask, knowing it’s bothering him. I’m a little too preoccupied to care about personal safety. Furtive glances behind me and in the rearview mirror says we’re in the clear, but I know how quickly that can change.
Matthew leans over and slides the seat belt over my middle, careful to keep his head lowered so that I can still see.
I take my hand off the steering wheel only long enough for him to loop the fabric and click it into place.
Before he can settle back into his seat, I grab his hand and place it on my thigh.
He tenses, fingers digging in, and then relaxes, keeping it there.
“We’re in the clear.” Not a certainty, though my confidence is rising with every corner we take.
“Where are we going?”
“My home.” No one uninvited will get in there, and I can call my team in so that we can figure out our next move.
What a fucking mess.