Chapter 62
Hunter
She left.
She got into that car with the rest of them, wearing that damn blue dress. The corset pushed her tits up and cinched her waist, doing that body every conceivable favour.
That damn body.
Fucking perfection.
The dress itself isn’t the problem.
As I’ve already established, she looks spectacular.
The problem is that she should be on my arm.
I know every bastard in that bar, or whichever place they’ve chosen for their girls’ night out, will look at her.
They’ll want a piece of her.
But she’s mine.
It doesn’t take us long to change and meet in the garage.
Adelaide clearly thought she was being clever when she hid the keys.
But for two people who claim to despise each other, Isaak knows her remarkably well. It takes him all of thirty seconds to work out where she hid them.
We take the Rolls Royce Cullinan Black Badge and, within minutes, we’re on the road after them.
Something tells me Adelaide won’t be particularly pleased when she discovers Isaak’s choice of vehicle.
As we make our way towards the small town, Arlo speaks up from the seat behind me.
“Do you even know where they’re headed?”
Isaak doesn’t take his eyes off the road.
“Somewhere they can drink, dance, and do something reckless, because Adelaide exists solely to test my patience.”
“Then we’ll have to check everything this place offers. Restaurants, bars, clubs, until we find them.” I say.
“No need.” I hear Arlo tap away at his phone.
A few seconds pass.
“Adelaide’s car has GPS. They’re twenty minutes out.”
I nod. “Convenient.”
“Put it in the satnav,” Arlo adds, passing me the details.
I do, and Isaak puts his foot down.
Not long afterwards, we pull into the car park and step out of the vehicle.
Two men stand by the entrance. I slip one of them a folded note, and he lifts the velvet rope without a word.
The place is packed when I step inside.
Bodies crowd the room. Music pulses through the air, conversations overlap.
It doesn’t take me long to find her.
My eyes always find Piper.
The moment I take her in, seated at a table with the others, my jaw clenches and the anger simmering beneath the surface becomes increasingly difficult to contain.
Because sitting across from them are a group of tight arsed little pricks who seem too comfortable with their company.
Particularly the two currently talking to my woman.
I have a feeling the Bratva clean-up crew may end up with more work than usual tonight.
We move without a word.
Within seconds, Arlo has one of the boys by the collar. Milo punches another. Isaak wraps a hand around the throat of the one who’d been flirting with Adelaide.
I pay none of it any attention.
My focus is elsewhere.
I close the distance between us, and the moment my shadow falls over the table, Piper lifts her eyes.
The second they meet mine, she swallows hard.
That’s right, love.
You’ve fucked up.
Talking to another man may prove to be a poor bloody decision.
The two fuckers flanking her don’t even bother to look up. They just keep staring at Piper.
More specifically, at her chest.
I grab them both by the backs of their necks, one in each hand, and squeeze hard to make my point.
One of them manages to turn his head to look at me.
“What the fuck—”
But he stops short the moment he sees my expression. The colour drains from his face.
I can only imagine what sort of monster is staring back at him.
My grip tightens.
“Hunter.” Piper’s soft voice reaches me.
I look at her and find worry written all over her face.
Without releasing my hold on either of them, I start marching them towards the exit by the backs of their necks.
I glance over my shoulder at Piper.
“Just one minute, love. I’m taking the trash out.”
She doesn’t look convinced.
To be fair, she really shouldn’t.
Outside, I shove them towards one of Isaak’s men, who’s already waiting by the entrance, no doubt collecting the idiots Arlo, Milo, and Isaak have handed over as well.
“Make sure they’re dealt with.”
He nods.
I don’t wait for anything else. I turn and head straight back inside.
Straight to her.
She looks at me as I approach, one brow lifting slightly.
“You let a bit of crazy slip out,” she says, attempting to look past me towards the entrance.
I clench my jaw and move to block her view.
Her eyes return to mine. “I hope they’re still breathing.”
I give her a noncommittal response.
This woman.
Fucking perfect for me.
I extend my hand.
“Dance with me.”
She looks momentarily taken aback.
“You just lost your temper over two men for simply talking to me, and now you want to dance as though nothing out of the ordinary happened?”
“Nothing did,” I reply.
“Since when do you dance?”
“I don’t.”
She hesitates for a second before finally taking my hand.
I lead her onto the dance floor, through the crowd and the press of bodies that part around us.
My hand finds her waist, and I pull her closer.
I lower my head to her neck and breathe her in, her scent as intoxicating as ever.
We move with the music, time slips by as everything else fades away.
It’s just her.
Just this.
Some drunk fucker bumps into us, breaking the moment.
I feel her go still and start moving away from me, brick by brick rebuilding the walls I’d only just managed to break through.
Fuck.
She looks around.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, even though I already know.
I take a step towards her, she takes one back.
I clench my jaw.
“We shouldn’t... in public... anyone could see.”
She looks around like a deer caught in headlights, and with every passing second the colour drains further from her face.
“I can’t believe it didn’t even cross my mind that we’re in public. That we’re supposed to keep our distance...”
Of course.
This again.
I exhale slowly.
“We’re in a different country. No one knows you. No one knows me. I’ll keep you safe.”
“What if someone followed me?”
Every muscle in my body tenses.
What is really going on with her that the idea of someone following her is the first place her mind goes?
Is this a normal occurrence for her?
My thoughts immediately turn to Julian.
Considering the way he appeared at the academy, there’s no reason he couldn’t do the same here.
“I promise you, if someone has followed you, they won’t be leaving Switzerland breathing.”
I close the distance between us and place a hand at the small of her back as I guide her towards the bar and onto a stool.
“I’ll be a moment.”
I press a brief kiss to the side of her head before stepping away.
The bar is packed, but I manage to reach the counter and slide a folded note across it.
“Bourbon. And a strawberry daiquiri.”
The bartender glances at the note before giving a short nod.
“I’ll bring them over.”
I turn, and I don’t understand what it is about today that seems to inspire everyone to test my patience.
It’s as if they’re all determined to see me snap.
A drunk fucker has his hand wrapped around Piper’s wrist.
He’s trying to pull her towards him.
She says something to him, but I’m still too far away to hear the words over the music.
But the moment he pulls again and she tries to pry his hand off her, shaking her head in refusal, something in me snaps.
I move before I think. Before anything remotely rational has a chance to intervene.
My fist connects with his face, and he hits the floor instantly.
And I don’t stop there.
I fucking can’t.
This is it.
I’ve bloody snapped.
I throw punch after punch, only vaguely aware that the man lost consciousness several blows ago.
Everything slips away, and I find myself becoming the man I only ever allow out in the boxing ring.
And ever since Piper entered my life, I’ve found myself becoming him more and more.
The man I hate, the one I’ve spent my entire life trying to keep caged.
That fucking monster.
The one that wants blood, the one with a darkness nobody truly knows exists, because I make damn sure they never see it.
Thought ceases to matter, and so does reason.
I don’t know how long it lasts.
And I don’t fucking care.
He put his hands on my girl.
He grabbed her, and she said no.
She fucking said no.
Who the fuck does this bastard think he is?
If someone says no, then no means fucking no.
And if you’re too drunk to understand something that basic, then don’t fucking drink.
A small hand lands on my shoulder, stopping me before I can throw another punch.
Piper. She’s watching me with those hazel eyes.
Those beautiful eyes.
Her red hair is pulled high into a ponytail, exposing every inch of the face I’ve become way too obsessed with.
“You’re going to kill him. Stop,” she says.
Her voice finds its way through the noise in my head, but it doesn’t fully reach me yet.
I look at Piper, then at the bloodied mess beneath me, before looking back at her.
“He fucking touched you,” I grit out. “He deserves to die. No means bloody no.”
“Hunter, please,” she says again.
And that does it.
That single word.
Please.
Whatever remained of my anger evaporates.
I get to my feet, my hands bloodied and my chest rising hard, and pull her straight into my arms.
Her legs wrap around my waist, and she buries her face in my neck.
I know she does it to hide.
I turn and stride towards the exit.
Outside, I catch sight of a few of Isaak’s men waiting nearby.
One of them looks at me expectantly.
“Mr. Wardgrave.”
I don’t slow.
“Go get the fucker that’s currently bleeding on the floor. Teach him a lesson. And make sure the police aren’t involved. Deal with the witnesses.”
He disappears inside without another word.
I keep walking, still wound up, the aftermath of what just happened still coursing through my veins.
But the feel of her breath at my neck and the steady rise and fall of her chest against mine calms me in a way nothing else ever can.
With her in my arms, everything feels bloody right.