Chapter 14 Hunter - Two Years Ago
Two Years Ago
It’s been days since the night of the gala, and still my chest hurts. A proverbial wound—bloodied and raw from Bunny’s betrayal—that won’t fucking close, throbbing in time with my busted heart.
So this is what heartbreak feels like.
I’ve never experienced it before. Never thought another human could make someone feel so utterly incapacitated by the hurt they inflict. We are in charge of our emotions. We choose who can and cannot hurt us.
Only, we don’t.
Not always.
Some people bury themselves so far into your marrow you don’t realize that to remove them, you’ll lose a piece of yourself. And that’s exactly how this feels. Like Bunny took a part of me I’m not sure I’ll ever get back—even if I’m still unsure about wanting it back at all.
My temples pulse with exhaustion, my brain working overtime trying to figure out my little rabbit’s angle. Wondering if she really thought I’d be okay seeing her in secret, knowing she goes home every night to a man who doesn’t—and can never—love her like I do.
“‘Nathaniel has affairs all the time…’”
Bunny’s words ricochet around and around. Her excuses. Her tears. The way he touched her. The fact that he could—out in the open and without consequences—because he’s her fucking husband.
And I’m just the damn jerk who didn’t read the signs, the red flags that would have tipped me off. I stupidly thought she wanted to take things slow—be friends first. That’s something I loved about her. I could get behind building a strong foundation of friendship.
Only that wasn’t it at all. She was never available to begin with.
“…Jones on the job.”
My attention snaps to the front of the room when I hear a senior detective mention Bunny’s last name.
A woman—I’m not sure of her official title, but I know she’s who Bunny liaises with about assignments—shakes her head and releases a heavy sigh. “Jones apparently fell and messed up her face. She’ll no longer be working for us. Said it’s gonna be a pretty noticeable scar. Too identifiable.”
It feels like all the air gets sucked from the room.
“What do you mean she fell and messed up her face?” All eyes turn to me at the harsh bite of my tone. Uncrossing my arms, I push to my feet. “Did you actually talk to her? Or did you talk to her husband?”
Murmurs pop up after I bite out the word husband like it tastes bitter. It’s no secret—my feelings for Bunny. But from the sounds of it, no one knew she was married. So it wasn’t just me she kept it from.
The woman cocks her head. “I spoke to Bunny directly. She said she tripped this weekend and hit her face on the corner of her coffee table.”
Pushing my feelings aside, I spin on my heel and stalk out, aware everyone’s eyes track me as I go.
Nathaniel gave off bad vibes when I met him Saturday.
I don’t buy that Bunny fell. I’ve seen that woman balance in nearly six-inch heels while spinning herself around a pole on a platform barely big enough to stand on.
She’s got the skills of a tightrope walker.
It takes longer than I’d like, but I smooth-talk my way into getting Bunny’s address. Everyone knows we’re friends, so all it takes is telling an HR girl I forgot her street.
It’s a corner lot, with a small gated courtyard out front and a rear extension renovated for parking, edged by a garden—a rare find in the city. Bunny’s never struck me as the green-thumb type, but the foliage is vibrant and blooms in bright colors bring a cheery vibe as I approach the door.
I’m taking a risk showing up. It’s midday. I’m banking on her husband being at work. Bunny opens after a second round of knocking, and the sight of her has me hoping he is here so I have somewhere to direct my rage.
“Hunter? What are you doing here?” Her mossy eyes widen as she scans up and down the street, panic surging through her gaze and body.
The left side of her face is swollen, the eye bruised, and the skin over her cheekbone is hidden behind a thin patch of gauze.
Raspberry mottles her sun-kissed flesh, making her freckles pop, spreading out from under the dressing like a splatter of paint.
“What the fuck happened to you?” I step into her, one hand going to her waist to keep her from stepping back as the other hovers over the bandage. “And don’t you dare say you fell.”
“You need to leave.” Tears spring to her eyes. Her whole body trembles as her gaze keeps searching the street. “Please, Hunter. Nathaniel is on his way home. You can’t be here.”
“Did he fucking do this to you?” I should have seen it that night. She was scared of him, and I was too blinded by rage to notice. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”
“Hunter, stop! You’re only going to make it worse than you already have!” Anger creeps into her tone, chasing away her fear if only for a moment. She sniffs back tears as I freeze, taking in what she said.
Shrugging out of my hold, she gently pushes me back a step. I keep staring, terrified by what she implies. I told her husband she was looking for attention. Told him to worry about his marriage.
I called her Little Rabbit in front of him.
Nausea crashes through me, settling like lead. “This is my fault, isn’t it?”
Her usually glossy raven hair looks dull as it slips over one shoulder with a shake of her head. She drops her gaze to the stoop. “My problems are not your fault. But now you know why…” A shaky breath leaves her throat. “Why I can’t be with you.”
“Bunny, if he did this to you… You work with the fucking cops. Let’s go. Right now.” I reach for her again, but she retreats a step into the house, fixing me with a stern glare.
“It’s not that simple, Hunter. I’m not a broken, battered woman. I can’t just—”
“You’re not broken and battered?” I cry incredulously, motioning to her face. “What the fuck do you call this?”
“I’m fine. I have it under control,” she bites out.
Suddenly, an onslaught of memories hits me—the bruises on her neck.
The time I tried to tickle her and she winced, said she’d had a hard workout, and kept clutching her side where I’d grabbed her.
The time she told me she fell off a stripper pole and bit her lip—that’s why it was busted and bruised.
Every single instance was a lie, rolling off her tongue so smoothly I never thought twice.
I took her at her word while her husband was beating her.
“You don’t have it under control, Little Rabbit.” I try to hide the pity in my voice and fail miserably. There’s no way I can walk away now. No world where I stand by while she stays with a man who does this. “Let me help you.”
“You don’t understand.” Her tone turns watery, tears lining her eyes as she shakes her head. “You can’t help me.”
“Yes. I can. Just come with me,” I plead.
“Just stop, Hunter. Don’t try to be a hero. I’ll be fine.” She grips the edge of the door and shrugs. “In a few months, you’ll forget all about me. Go. Live your life and don’t let me and my problems bring you down.”
“I could never forget you, Bunny. And I don’t want to.
I want you to come with me. Right now. I can protect you.
” All it would take is one phone call and I can have her husband behind bars.
I don’t know why she’s fighting me so hard.
She has to know anyone at the department would do whatever it took to get her away from Nathaniel if they knew.
A door bangs somewhere in the house, transforming her from contemplative to terrified. “Bunny! I’m home!”
“Leave. Now. Don’t let him see you,” she hisses, then slams the door in my face.
I nearly pound on it, wanting to get his attention.
The fucker must have come in through the back.
I want him to open this door so I can rearrange his teeth before making sure he never sees daylight again.
Rationality kicks in, though. If I stay, I’ll make it worse for Bunny—or I’ll end up behind bars for murder.
Instead, I go back to work. Someone needs to know what’s going on, and the woman from earlier wasn’t fazed when I brought up Nathaniel, which means she knew Bunny was married all along. I’ll start there.
Protecting my little rabbit is at the top of my list, even if it’s the last thing I do.
“What do you mean there’s nothing we can do?” Anger surges through me, molten hot and crisping the edges of my self-control. “He’s hurting her!”
“You don’t have any proof of that, Remington. She didn’t come out and say he hit her, did she?” Abigail James, the woman from earlier, arches a brow as she leans back in her chair.
“This is ridiculous. It’s obvious. I saw them this weekend—he’s a complete dick, and—”
“Look, I know you have a thing for her. Everyone in this building knows you have a thing for her. But the fact is Bunny is married, and she chose not to tell you. I get it. You’re hurt, you’re embarrassed, blah, blah, blah.
But I’ve known her a while, and she’s never alluded to her husband being abusive.
Now, if she came in here and sat down herself to make a report, we’d be having a different conversation.
But something tells me if you’re here, it’s because she won’t. So my hands are tied, Hunter.”
Disbelief bleeds into my features. At five eleven, Abigail James is the tallest woman I’ve ever met. Nearing seventy, she’s the oldest working female in the department. She’s rough-and-tumble, no-nonsense. She’s seen a lot of shit within these walls.
What she doesn’t understand is that Bunny is an actress of epic proportions.
And what I can’t comprehend is why Bunny is choosing to stay with an abusive asshole.
Defeat must show on my face loud and clear because Abigail sighs and leans forward.
“Look, Jones is a big girl. I trust she can take care of herself. Don’t treat her like glass, Remington.
In my experience, strong women hate it when men assume they’re weak.
Bunny doesn’t strike me as the type to stick around and let a man beat on her.
If she’s staying with him—and what you’re insinuating is the truth—then there’s a reason. ”
What do I say to that?
What are my choices when there’s nothing the law can do and the woman won’t stand up for herself?
Pulling my phone out, I open my thread with Bunny, then pause, wondering if Nathaniel’s screening her texts. Abigail follows my train of thought, shakes her head, and grabs a file folder off her desk.
“Don’t do it, Remington. My best advice? Let her go. You’re either going to make things worse, or you’ll end up with your heart broken more than it already is. You’re good at your job. Don’t throw it away over a woman.”
“Pretty harsh on your own sex, aren’t you?” I snort, shoving my cell back in my pocket.
“Women are nothing but sirens. And what do sirens do, kid?”
I don’t answer aloud, but the truth swims through my head as I leave her office.
They lead you to your death.