Hunter (32 page)

It probably wouldn't. From what I remembered of life in the mafia, they were all lying pieces of shit themselves.

“Ready?” Hunter asked me, his voice tight. “Stay close to me.”

“You got it,
Cacciatore
,” I whispered back to him.

He reached behind me and, wrapping his arm around my waist, slammed me into his back. I grasped his shirt tightly as he opened the door once more and we stepped into the foray. He kept me against the wall as best he could as we navigated the halls. His head jerked side to side quicker than I thought possible.

He was hyperaware of everything that was happening around us. Completely tuned in to every single shift in the air, every noise. I held on to him tightly as we moved through the halls. A door frame scraped against my back, and I winced, causing him to stop.

He slammed me around the corner. The wind was knocked from my lungs as my back hit the wall, and he held me tighter, stretching his arm forward. His shoulder almost rammed into my face as the gun kicked back with his shot.

I squeezed my eyes shut for half a second before the reality of where I was and what I was doing hit me hard. I couldn't close my eyes—if I did that, I was welcoming death with open arms.

We weren't destined to be that good of friends yet.

I snapped them open and looked around. It was a fluke, I was sure, but I looked left. Down the hallway, I stared down the barrel of a gun.

Instinct reared its head.

So I twisted.

And I shot.

My bullet whipped through the air, spinning like hell, and sliced through the stomach of the guy pointing the gun at me.

He fell to the ground, as if he were a controlled demolition.

My ears rang as the shot ricocheted through my consciousness. The finality of the man's body hitting the ground shook through me, but I bit back the hit of it and let Hunter lead me through the house with my face buried between his shoulder blades.

I've just killed a man.

I couldn't think like that.

It wouldn't end well. For anyone. I didn't want to think like that.

I was shoved into a room, and the door swiftly slammed behind me. Hunter darted out of the way of it seconds before a bullet tore through the wood, and he grabbed me. He shoved me down to the floor and to the side. I almost hit my head on the corner of the desk he'd pushed me toward, dropping my gun, but I avoided the corner of the table just in time.

I scrambled for the gun and peered around the side of the desk just as two shots were simultaneously fired. Hunter stumbled to the side and I clapped my hand over my mouth.

A scream ripped through me, muffled by my hand.

He righted himself and fired off several rounds.

Bodies echoed as they dropped.

“You have ten seconds to show your fucking pussy-ass faces before I come out there and end every last one of your miserable existences,” he roared, straightening to his full height.

No one moved. No one entered the room. No one uttered a word.

If there was anyone left.

I didn't know.

Moments dragged in excruciating slowness. Every second seemed like an eternity.

“You okay?” Hunter whispered, looking over to me. He held out his hand. “You're not hurt?”

I forced myself to my feet and wrapped my fingers around his, then shook my head. “No. I'm okay. I didn't get hurt.”

“Good.” His hold on my hand lingered a little too long, and my cheeks flushed lightly.

I stepped back and pulled my hand away from his. The chill that vibrated over my skin had me rubbing my palms together as I looked around the room he'd dragged me into.

Opulent. That was the only way I could describe it. The wooden bookshelves that lined the walls, holding nothing but the occasional photo frame and book, were the darkest mahogany I'd ever seen. I didn't know if I'd ever seen furniture this elaborate before. It sure as hell wasn't here the last time I was, because I knew the room.

I walked to one of the shelves and snatched up one of the frames. The photo inside tugged at my heart as my eyes landed on the smiling face of my mother. She was hugging me tightly, her dark hair tumbling around her shoulders as I leaned back into her with the biggest, cheesiest grin on my face. My father stood behind us, his dark eyes bright, and his expression matched ours.

I swallowed hard. I remembered the day this was taken—right before my eighth birthday party.

Way before everything went wrong.

I set the photo back down on the shelf and moved to see the others. I could feel Hunter's eyes burning a hole into my back as I did. My gut niggled each and every time I passed a photo frame. Each and every last image was of us—the three of us. A handful were of me as a baby or toddler, alone, but the ones where I saw my mamma smiling hurt the worst.

I'd forgotten what it looked like when she smiled.

“She was beautiful.”

I froze as the sharp, dry tone of my father's voice filled the room. “Inside and out.”

“You were, too.”

“Still am. And I'm damn sure none of it came from you.” I spun on the balls of my feet, and the moment my eyes landed on him, my stomach twisted in a nauseating swirl.

He'd aged... Badly. The lines that etched into his skin at the corners of his eyes were pronounced, and the ones that teased around his mouth made the pinching of his lips more terrifying than it would have been otherwise. His dark eyes and hair were still exactly the same as I remembered, except his eyes held a coldness I never saw as a child.

Soulless.

His eyes were soulless.

“None of the inner beauty,” he said slowly, his gun trained on Hunter.

I glanced at him. He stood stoic, his own weapon on Enzio. “You can put the guns down,” I said, looking between them both slowly. “I'm sure you can both draw them quick enough if you need to.”

Isaiah chuckled, appearing in the doorway behind my father. “How sweet. The hunter rescued his prey.”

“How sweet. The double crossing
figa
who put his name on a bullet in my gun the moment he touched me,” I snapped to him.

He laughed again. “Gotta do what you gotta do, Addy.”

“My name is Adriana. Not that it matters to you, because you'll be lucky to live long enough to ever use it again.” I raised my gun, keeping it pointed at the ceiling. “You know Darien died after your bullshit act, don't you?”

He grinned. Manically, evilly, crazily. “I know. I killed him.”

Rage shot through me uncontrollably, and as it burned white-hot, I lowered my gun and pointed it right at him.

“Now, now, let's not be hasty,” Enzio slowly said, holding his empty hand up, palm to me. He stepped to the side, narrowing his eyes as he did so. A chill descended in the room, and Hunter's gaze followed Enzio.

Like a hawk.

He didn't move. Hunter, that was. He stood deathly still, and briefly it crossed my mind whether or not I was looking at the man or the assassin.

It was obvious.

He wasn't Carlo.

He was Hunter. And not my Hunter.

He was ready to kill the two men standing in front of us. He'd probably do it with a single shot, too.

“Let's not be hasty?” I questioned Enzio. “Are you forgetting that you already tried to have me killed more than once?”

“Semantics, Adriana. Although I was sorry to hear about your mother.”

“Sorry the cancer beat you to it, you mean.”

He slowly smiled, but there was no light to it. “Perhaps.”

“You're a sick son of a bitch,” I whispered.

“Now, now, that's not a nice way to talk about your grandmother, is it?” He tilted his head to the side.

“She isn't my grandmother,” I snapped. Not that I'd ever met my father's mother. “Anyone whose blood bleeds the same as yours is no family of mine, Enzio. I'd disown myself if I could. You're sure as fuck not my father. You're nothing to me.”

I felt lighter for even just saying it out loud.

I guessed that was what happened when you kept such severe hatred locked inside your body for so long. Eventually, it ate at you.

His lips twitched.

He was evil to the core.

He slowly faced Hunter. “You should have killed her.”

“I should have killed you,” he corrected him. “And that piece of shit standing behind you.”

Enzio grinned, and Isaiah did, too. Darkness hung about them like they were the physical embodiments of death. Which was wrong, because I knew the man standing across from them, tired and covered in blood, was that.

Hunter was the angel of death.

But despite everything, the pain and the past, he was my angel of death.

The bullet sliced through the air before I knew it was happening.

Enzio's face morphed into sheer rage as he moved out of the way of Hunter's shot.

He squeezed his finger on the trigger, but not before another bullet came flying at him.

His bullet left his gun.

Hunter's hit its target.

So did Enzio's.

My father dropped to the ground with a devastating thud, but my eyes snapped to Hunter. He went down in slow motion, his face contorting in pain, and I felt the physical ache of the scream that ripped itself free from my lungs.

Isaiah lunged for me, but adrenaline surged, and I twisted. I shot him at almost point-blank range, and I watched with a sick thrill as whatever life was left inside him drained from his eyes.

Gaige and Angelo came running down the hall, both scruffed, bloodied and beaten, but I was focused on the way my father was slowly reaching for the gun he'd dropped, even as blood poured out of his shoulder and pooled onto the floor.

I stared at him, seeing the man I remembered opposed to the man he was. I saw the man who pushed me too high on the swings, teased me about the monsters beneath my bed, and hid plastic spiders under my pillow. Who taught me to ride a bike, and tie a secure knot, and shoot a gun.

A gun like the one that was burning into my palm.

A tiny piece of me mourned the man he used to be. Mourned who he was now.

Mourning wouldn't get me anywhere, though.

Enzio turned to face me, moving his gun in the direction of Hunter on the floor, and I snapped.

“I hate you,” I whispered, right before I pulled the trigger.

The bullet entered his skull close to his temple, and he stilled.

Emotion welled in my stomach as someone coughed. Someone—Hunter. It was Hunter coughing.

I ran across the room, ignoring Gaige and Angelo as I did, and dropped to the ground next to him. He was halfway to sitting up against the wall, so I put down my gun to help him up. He staggered forward, his hair brushing my cheek, and Gaige knelt down to help me.

Hunter lamely reassured him he was okay once he was sitting up and looked at me. His eyes were a dull gray, nothing like the startling silver I was so accustomed to, and my heart clenched painfully inside my chest.

“Go,” he whispered, wincing. “You need to...” He coughed again.

I shook my head fiercely. “I'm not going anywhere, Hunt—oh God.” I lost my trail of thought as I saw the blood that coated the hand he had pressed against his side. “Gaige, Angelo, quick. I need something to stop the—oh God.”

“Here.” Angelo pulled off his sweater and handed it to me. “Calling nine-one-one.”

My hands shook as I took it and pressed it to Hunter's side. He winced, his whole body jolting, and gritted his teeth as sweat dripped down his white face. “It's okay. We can call an ambulance and take you to hospital, and then—”

“Addy,” he rasped, taking a deep breath. “Go. You need to go, before it happen—” He paused to cough. “Again. Before more.”

“Stop it.” I pressed his side a little harder and ran my thumb across his jaw. Blood smeared through the stubble that dotted his face. “It's okay. It's over. I did it. You're gonna be okay. You promised me, remember?”

“Adriana.” His tone went gruff, and I guessed this was his attempt at yelling. He sucked in a sharp breath as pain distorted his handsome face. “Damn it, Adriana. You're not safe.”

“She is.” Gaige stroked my hair. “She just killed Enzio. This is all hers, as it should be. No one will attempt to oust her right now. Not today.”

I glanced up at him to say thank you and then turned back to Hunter. He was still wincing, and his breathing was shallow.

Tears pooled in my eyes as the realization of what was likely to happen hit me. My lungs burned as I breathed in sharply and shook my head again.

No. No. No.

“You promised me you'd be okay,” I whispered to him, my lower lip trembling. “You promised me you'd always be okay.”

“I am. Will be.” He turned his face into my hand. “Got you.”

“Carlo, don't you dare fall asleep.” I tapped his cheek lightly. “Listen to me, Rosso, damn it!”

He opened his eyes, weakness swirling in them.

“Good. Keep looking at me, okay? Just don't stop. It's okay. The ambulance is coming. You'll be okay. You have to be. You promised, remember? When I was nine and you stopped me from being kidnapped but got punched in the face. I cleaned you up and you promised. Don't break it. You can't. I'll kill you if you break your promise.”

His lips twitched in a lazy smile, but he didn't say anything.

I readjusted the sweater on his wound. It was soaked through with his blood, and the bright red liquid trickled down my arm as I moved. I didn't think it was doing anything anymore. He was bleeding too profusely.

“Hunter don't you dare!”

It took everything I had to keep my eyes open.

I felt the strength draining out of me quicker than I could grasp hold of it, but the heat from her palm, pressed against my cheek, kept me going for a moment. The pain from the gunshot screamed through my body, but the ache in my soul that was caused by the tears running out of Adriana's gorgeous blue eyes eclipsed it unimaginably.