Hunter (26 page)

I could live with her loving another—just—but I couldn't live if she didn't.

I guess that was the curse of loving your best friend. There was no one there to hold your hand when you had a broken heart.

For me, anyway. She'd be okay. She had Gaige. I hated it and I hated him, but if I died trying to kill Enzio, he'd be there for her. If I was honest with myself, I'd probably have to give her up anyway.

If Enzio died and she took control, she'd be on a timeline. She'd need a real ring on her finger by the end of the year. Someone worthy of being the Boss, the Don, the Godfather. Someone strong enough to do it.

She moved her hand around my side and rested it against my chest. It was her left one.

I softly took her hand and looked at her bare finger. There was still the faintest indent of where the ring was on her skin, pale pink, and I brought it to my mouth and closed my eyes. My lips brushed over it, and my heart squeezed.

I didn't lie to her earlier.

I would marry her in a heartbeat.

Less than.

I always would have.

I always would.

I set her hand back against my chest. It would never happen though, because as soon as she took control of the family, I would step aside for her to take the sensible choice.

I would make the most of her now, while I could, because soon, she would hate me.

As soon as she found out I was lying to her with every breath I took, she'd forget she ever loved me.

She would kill me.

And I would deserve it.

***

“Hunter!” Addy yells. “There's a spider in the toilet and it's going to eat me!”

“Really, Addy? A spider? We're not in Australia,” I call back, stopping at the bottom of the stairs. The last time she tried this it turned out to be an ant. I'm struggling with my confidence in her ability to name bugs right now.

“I swear! It's huge! Get rid of it! Now!”

I sigh and go upstairs, taking two at a time, until I reach her in the bathroom. “Adriana, that's not a spider.”

“Then what is it?”

“A centipede.”

“Ew!” she shrieks. “So it has one hundred legs? That's disgusting!”

I roll my eyes and pull two squares of tissue from the holder. I fold them up and then pick up the bug with my bare hands. She screams and runs out of the room, and when I have the centipede safely encased in the tissue, I hold it in front of me.

“It's coming for yoooooouuuuu!” I tease her, stomping across the hall.

“Carlo! Don't you dare bring that near me!”

“It's gonna eat youuuuuu!”

“I hate you!” She runs down the stairs at lightspeed and flings open the back door.

“It's on you!” I shout, pointing at her back.

She screams, throwing her arms out. She spins several times, but when she pauses to bat at her shoulders, I see the tears in her eyes.

“Hey.” I run to her in the middle of the patio. “I'm joking, Addy. It's not on you.”

She freezes, her bright eyes finding mine. “You promise?”

“I promise.” I take her into my arms and hug her. She wraps her arms around me, then pulls back and punches me square in the chest.

“You idiota,” she scolds me. “You owe me ice cream for that.”

“Do I?” I raise my eyebrows.

“Si.”

“I have no money.”

“So go call your mamma before I call mine and tell her you've been mean to me again.” She pouts and folds her arms petulantly across her chest.

Eleven years old and she has more attitude than half the women we know.

“Okay, okay, I'll call Mamma,” I give in. I bend and kiss her rosy cheek.

“Don't try and butter me up with your cooty kisses, Hunter.”

“Aw, come on, you know I'm only mean to you sometimes because I love you, Principessa.”

She pouts again, then relents. “I know. I love you, too, Cacciatore. When you don't pretend to throw bugs at me.”

***

Last night was filled of memories of what was—the good kind. If you could count endless childhood memories disguised as dreams.

Bugs. Ice cream. Jello. Dinner. Dances. Everything up until she was ripped out of my life.

I pulled into the motel parking lot just outside of Chicago and looked over at Adriana. She'd been asleep for the last couple of hours, so I nudged her awake gently. “Addy? We're here.”

She jerked awake and looked at me with sleep in her eyes. “We are? Wow. That was quick.”

“Sure.” I smirked and killed the engine. If ten hours was fucking quick—five of which she was driving for.

“Shut up.” She batted at me and reached for the car door, then paused. “Crap.” She leaned back, grabbed the bag with the ring box in it, and sat back right. I watched with thinly-veiled amusement as she pulled out the box and slipped the ring onto her finger.

She looked like she'd stepped in dog shit.

“And here go the happy couple,” I said under my breath as we go out.

She glared at me before I grabbed the bags and wrapped my arm around her waist. I didn't know how she could be so mad at me personally. I kept giving her great orgasms, yet pretending to be married to me was hell.

Honestly. You couldn't make this shit up.

We entered the reception building and waited behind a couple that certainly didn't look like they were newlyweds—even pretend ones. They looked closer to hooker and friend.

“Mr and Mrs. Conti,” Adriana said, plastering a fake smile on her face. “We have a room reservation tonight.”

The girl behind the counter blew a bubble with her gum and then snapped it with her tongue. “Room 316,” she said in a droll tone. She swiped a card. “Here's your key. Go out of this building and the second block on the left. First floor.”

“Is there parking?”

“Yep. Drive left and it's the second block. Parking outside.”

“Thanks,” I replied, taking the key. “Come on, honey.”

The door slammed behind her and Adriana elbowed me. “Honey? Fucking honey?”

“Isn't that what married people call each other?”

“I don't know. I've never been fucking married,” she hissed, getting in the car.

I dumped the bags on her lap and slammed the door. She was in a bad mood—note to self... Don't wake Adriana Romano up. Ever. Even from a nap in the car.

I drove the two minutes to the 'second block on the left' and pulled into an empty space. I knew Gemma wanted us to fly under the radar, but fuck me. There was flying under the radar and then there was preferably sleeping on the streets.

This place looked awful.

“Uh...” Adriana said, staring out of the window. “I'm not a snob, but this is the best she could find?”

“Well... it might not be so bad inside.” I was being optimistic, and she knew it. But, hey. Optimism was good.

“Mmm,” was her only response before she got out of the car. She was already fumbling with the band on her left finger, and she removed it easier than she had last night.

She had been practicing that in the car before she fell asleep, after all.

She took the key from my hand and then looked at the rusted sign that showed which floor the rooms were on. “First floor,” she said, turning around to me.

She screwed up her face as she said it, like it was the most disgusting thing she'd heard in her life. I'd seen this expression before—this unimpressed, horrified whisper over her features.

She was many things right now—including frustrated, angry, and annoyed as all get out, but tolerant didn't seem to be one of them.

“It's just for one night. We can leave early. Before sunrise. We just need to sleep,” I reasoned with her, touching my hand to the small of her back.

She stepped away from me, a displeasured noise escaping her pursed lips. She grabbed a bag from me and took off toward the metal stairs that climbed the side wall of the building. The dim lights that lit the pathway to them flickered, almost ominously, and I swore I saw her stick her middle finger up at them.

Yep. The Princess attitude was out in full force tonight. I didn't blame her--we'd had a close call a couple hours ago when we crossed the state line into Illinois. Coming through Illinois, although the shorter route, was equal parts smart and motherfuckin' stupid.

If we made it through the state without alerting the Solleticos, it'd be almost a bigger win than if we killed Enzio and didn't get killed ourselves.

I followed Adriana up the rickety stairs, wincing every time my feet clanged against the metal steps. The sound seemed to ring out through the night, and the lights flickered furiously every time I stepped.

“Honestly, darling,” Adriana snarked at me. “Can't you even walk up the stairs without destroying the place?”

“Of course I can, sugar bum,” I shot right back at her, joining her on the small platform outside the doors. “But it's so much fun to annoy you like that.”

The ire that spits at me from her gaze is almost combustible. “Don't be a dick,
Cacciatore
.” She softens with the use of my nickname.

It rolls off her tongue smoothly, but it holds the heat of molten lava sliding down the side of a volcano, waiting for the final eruption.

I closed the distance between our bodies and drop the bags to pull her close. She sighed as her breasts pressed into my chest, but her lips quirked on one side. I looked down at her bright blue eyes, the fiery ire now a mere simmer. “
Mi dispiace, Principessa,
” I murmured, dipping my face and brushing my lips across hers.

“Mmmm.” She hummed into my mouth when I flicked my tongue across her seam of her mouth. “I'm sure you are sorry.”

“Yes. I am.” I plucked the key card from between her fingers and slotted it into the door. The light didn't blink green, so I did again, and again. Finally, on the fifth fucking attempt, it changed and the lock clicked. “Your boudoir, m'lady.”

“It's so hot when an Italian American speaks French and old English to you.” She rolled her eyes and looked through the door. “Well. It could be worse.”

“There's the optimistic Adriana I know.”

“You're so sarcastic tonight.”

“From you?” She quirked a brow before walking into it. “Smells kinda stale though.”

I half-nodded in agreement. “Just spray some of your perfume around.”

“Hunter, we're on the run. Why would I have perfume?”

“Because you bought some at the store yesterday morning.” I laughed and pushed her inside, then grabbed the bags. Pick up, put down, pick up, put down. It's all I was doing. “Yeah, I saw you take a bottle from the saleswoman.”

She sniffed in annoyance. “Well, I have to smell nice.”

“You're on the run. Why do you need to smell nice?”

“Do you need to throw everything back at me all the time?” She glared and dropped herself on the bed. She bounced and wrinkled up her nose. “This is hard.”

I closed the door behind me and nudged a backpack out of the way with my foot. “I thought you liked it hard.”

Her glare got colder. “And we're back to asshole mode.”

I rolled my eyes as she pulled a phone out of the bag she had sitting in front of her on the bed. It was a disposable one, but not in the box, and my jaw twitched. I didn't say anything as she hit the buttons, one after another.

Then she held it to her ear.

“What are you doing?”

She peered over at me through a thin curtain of dark hair. “Calling Gaige to let him know you didn't kill me yet.”

“Hilarious. You can't—”

“Hey!” she said, her voice suddenly lighter as she cut me off. “No, I'm good. How are you?”

“Whatever,” I muttered. “I'm going to shower.” And this time, it wasn't to jerk off.

Her laughter rang out through the room as I shut the bathroom door, pushed the lock, and turned to the shower. I didn't know what it was about Gaige—in fact, I didn't know a whole lot about their relationship other than it was strictly platonic by her insistence. But I did know that when she spoke about him, she smiled a lot, and whenever she spoke
to
him, she laughed a lot.

She didn't smile or laugh that much with me.

I got into the shower and let the warm water run over me. It didn't seem to be getting hotter, and any shower was better than no shower. I dropped my head and let the gentle spray hit the back of my neck. It took a few minutes to be effective, but when it did, I felt a little of the tension of the last few days leave me.

Shame it wasn't enough.

I stepped out the shower, pushing that fucking Californian assfuck out of my head, and dried myself with the hard, scratchy towel.
Jesus. This place is a dump.
I rubbed it over my head before wrapping it around my waist and securing it.

Adriana was sitting on the bed looking out of the window when I went in. She didn't turn to face me, but I noticed her death-grip on the phone in her lap. Her knuckles were bright white, and her jaw trembled lightly.

I crossed the room and pulled a new pair of boxers from a bag and then looked at her. Her jaw wasn't just trembling—it was clenched, too, and it looked like her eyes were damp.

“Addy?” I asked softly when she didn't acknowledge me. I pulled on some clean jeans and buttoned them up. “Hey—what's wrong?”

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, and an unsettling ache formed in my stomach. I'd seen her cry before, but this looked like she was doing her best to hold back whatever pain she was feeling.

“Why did you lie to me?” she whispered after a moment of silence, looking up. Before I could respond she stood and came to me. “Why. Did. You. Lie?”

That ache in my stomach dropped so fast it physically hurt. “You're gonna have to give me more than that, Addy.”

“My name is Adriana!” Her voice cracked halfway through, and she shoved at my chest. The tears that had been glimmering in her eyes now spilled over, and one trailed down her cheek. She wiped at it furiously. “Darien! Why did you lie to me, Carlo? He's not alive! He's dead!”