Chapter 12 Hunter - Two Years Ago
Two Years Ago
“I thought they wanted pretty faces to secure private funding? If that’s the case, why are you here?”
Ryan rolls his eyes and flips me off, tugging at the stiff collar of his shirt. “Fuck you, Remington.”
I laugh as we enter the ballroom already in full swing—lavish decor, pompous assholes who have more money than they know what to do with—which is why a few of us were tapped to schmooze and talk them into opening their pocketbooks.
“Bet I can bring in more than you,” Ryan challenges, grabbing a flute of champagne.
“You’re on, fucker.” I ditched my glasses and actually styled my hair tonight. Not half bad, if I say so myself, and by the way I’m already garnering looks from older ladies adorned in enough diamonds to feed the hungry for at least a month, I’d say I’ve got a shot.
I slide into a cluster of women and flash my best smile. “I was told I had to attend to talk to old grumpy men. I wasn’t aware such lovely young ladies would be in attendance.”
Inwardly, I preen as they break out in a gaggle of giggles, oohing and aahing over my attention. I may not have game with women my age—case in point: Bunny—but I can charm women my mother’s age and older all night. My parents drilled manners into me.
Women my age? They want disrespect dressed as danger, not a good guy who’d do anything for them.
An hour later I’ve got nearly a hundred grand pledged, three invitations to hotel rooms, and a very precarious situation with an elderly—and I mean she’s pushing ninety, at least—woman and her voyeur husband.
Good for them keeping the spark alive, but holy shit, I feel like I need a shower.
Her bony hands were trying to cop a feel as they tried to talk me into it for a ridiculous-sized check for the department.
I’m good with flashing a smile and flirting a little, but I’m not a freaking male escort.
“Fuck, I’d have done it,” Ryan says, signaling the bartender for something stronger than champagne. “If they wrote the check to me and not the department.” He laughs.
I lean on the bar, scanning the penguin suits and sequins. “What a world. If they all wrote a check that wouldn’t even dent their accounts, we could clean up the whole island.”
Ryan’s attention drifts to a blonde. I snag the bourbon he ordered and go back to hunting my next victim… I mean…
No. “Victim” fits.
A chuckle sounds from my left, and I look over to see a set of amused hazel eyes. “Department got you working for funds? They always send the pretty ones.”
He looks familiar. “Yeah. Do I know you?”
“Anderson Brooks. Used to work Narcotics in San Diego.”
Recognition clicks. “You were on that case a few years back—the one NYPD tried to keep quiet. With the club, right?”
He drains the amber-colored liquid in his glass. “The club should still be kept quiet. Good to know news traveled to the Metro PD.”
Aww shit, I don’t wanna get in trouble for opening my big fucking mouth.
Brooks must read my expression and laughs. “Don’t worry, kid. You won’t get in trouble. I’ve heard about you—Remington, right?”
Shock spears clean through me. How?
“Relax.” He waves for another drink. “Jesus, you’re green. You’re doing good work. Your reputation precedes you.”
“Thank… you?” I fumble for words, a whirlwind of thoughts jetting through my mind, all relating to how and why a detective of his caliber would have heard of me.
“Don’t let them work you like a dog.” Whatever he’s about to say next dies in his throat as a bombshell in a red dress sidles up to him, looping her arm through his.
“What about dogs?” she purrs, eyes sweeping over me, crimson lips tilting up at one corner. “Have you found a puppy?”
“Watch it, baby girl.” He tucks her into his side and kisses her neck. Suddenly, I feel like I should be anywhere else. They look two seconds from tearing each other’s clothes off. “Remington, this is my wife, Carmela. Cara, this is Hunter Remington, an up-and-coming me in the making.”
Again, I’m speechless. Anderson Brooks calling me the next him—without ever working together—is an honor.
Carmela offers her hand and I kiss the back lightly. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”
“Well, aren’t you charming?” she coos. Then, to her husband, she says, “I’m ready when you are, smooth guy. I’ve done enough ass-kissing to last all year.”
Brooks laughs, unwinding his arm from her waist to reach out and slide me a card. “If you ever relocate to California, give me a call.”
After we shake hands, he and his wife disappear into the crowd. Ryan finally turns around as they disappear, and I have to laugh at my good luck. Fuck securing more funding for the department, I might have just secured myself a great job opportunity.
“Who was that?” he asks, hunting for the drink I stole.
“Don’t worry your pretty little—” The crowd parts just enough for me to catch a glimpse of a familiar little rabbit making her way to the bar. “What the fuck?”
“What now?” Ryan follows my stare. “Is that Jones?”
It sure the fuck is.
He snorts. “What the fuck is she wearing?”
I don’t answer. I’m already moving. Her luscious locks are swept into a carefully sculpted updo with a few tendrils framing her face. The gown is shimmering, icy pink, painted on and ready to split if she makes any sudden moves.
Bunny hates pink.
I cage her from behind, breathing into her ear. “What the hell are you wearing, Little Rabbit?”
She whirls, eyes wide, terror stark on that beautiful face. “Hunter? What are you doing here?” Wildly, her gaze skitters over the room. She shoves my chest, creating a little distance between us.
“They sent Jacobs, me, and a few others to work. Did they ask you too? And I repeat,” my gaze rakes down her body, “what the heck are you wearing?”
“You have to go.” Panic threads her voice. Her chest heaves as she grabs my arm, tugging me toward the exit. “You can’t be here.”
Confused, I dig in and catch her wrist, drawing her into me. “Hey. What’s going on? Are you okay?”
She’s acting frightened, and a thick sense of dread fills my senses. I’ve never seen this woman afraid of anything. Tears shine in her mossy gaze, her bottom lip trembling as she tries to speak.
“I’d appreciate it if you’d unhand my wife,” a man says in a deep Texan drawl.
Bunny’s eyes clamp shut. Mine snap to the man in question. He’s standing a few feet away, hands in his pockets, his dark gaze drilling into me.
Wife?
“Uh, I think you have the wrong woman.” I look at Bunny. She’s trembling. Ashen. She stares at the floor, doing anything she can to avoid eye contact. My heart stops, a sick feeling curdling in my stomach like sour milk. “Bunny?”
She lifts her left hand to peel my grip from her right wrist. Bile rises in my throat as I glimpse a large diamond ring on her dainty finger, accompanied by a smaller band. A wedding set. “Hunter…”
I stagger back as the truth punches me in the gut.
She composes herself while I just stare, horrified, as the man comes up beside her, arm locking around her waist.
“So this is the infamous Hunter?” He clucks his tongue, cool as ice. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
The tone in which he delivers his statement suggests he’s not my biggest fan. Meanwhile, my little rabbit can’t even look me in the eye. Silently, I urge her to raise her gaze.
That’s the least you can do, after making me look like a fool for a year.
How fucking stupid am I?
Anger takes over, flooding my system like a tsunami prepared to destroy everything in its path. “That’s funny. I haven’t heard a word about you.”
His smirk falls. He drops an irate glare to the top of Bunny’s head, who refuses to look at either of us. “Yes, well. Bunny’s always been careful about keeping work and home life separate. But that won’t be an issue now that she’ll no longer be employed with the department here soon.”
I must look shocked, because he chuckles. She winces and finally lifts her gaze. Remorse shadows her face. Heavy. Palpable.
Good. Drown in it. Feel how fucking stupid I feel. What was the play here? Watch me jump? Watch me beg?
Was it amusing for her to watch me work so hard, knowing she’d never give in?
Was everything between us a lie?
“Oh, she didn’t tell you? What’s wrong, sweetheart?
” He digs his fingers into her side and gives her a little shake.
“Don’t tell me you were just going to disappear on him?
” Letting her go, he thrusts a hand at me.
“Sorry, I’m Nathaniel, by the way. Husband of the woman you’ve been trying to sleep with. ”
“Nathaniel!” Bunny snaps, glaring at him. She tries to slip free, but he wraps a possessive arm around her tighter when it’s clear I won’t take his hand.
“It’s okay, Little Rabbit.” I’m furious, but the way he squares up—like he wants to swing—keeps me talking.
“Clearly, he feels threatened if you’re always talking about me at home.
” I wink at her, caging off my heart as I do.
“Guess she’s not getting the attention she needs if she’s seeking it elsewhere.
” I shrug, sliding my hands into my pockets, aiming for a calmness I don’t feel.
“You won’t have to worry about me anymore, Nate.
You should probably worry about your marriage, though. ”
“It’s Nathaniel,” he grits.
“I don’t really give a shit. Have a nice life.” I give them an exaggerated bow. “Hope you enjoyed the show, Bunny.”
I don’t wait for a reply. I sidestep them and head for the exit. Heart stuck in my esophagus, I have to bite back the sting of tears that burn my sinuses. I’m not weak. I won’t cry. No big deal—Bunny just ripped out my heart and spiked it with her stilettos.
The woman of my dreams played me.
No. She didn’t. She turned you down. Every time. Flirted, sure. But never promised. Not once voiced a word to give you hope.
I run every moment back. Every look. Every line.
No ring. No mention of a husband.
Why?
I need to know. I need an explanation.
That need freezes my feet to the floor as my heart and head war over what to do. Both too loud to ignore.