Hunter (9 page)

I kept telling myself that, like it mattered.

The soap acted as a lube as I worked my hand up and down my cock. Adriana sprung to mind immediately, and although I tried to fight the thoughts, I couldn't. I couldn't fucking get rid of the memory of her standing in front of me in skin tight pants and a tank. I couldn't get rid of the memory of how they clung to her body, how her ass shook as she walked, how her tits pushed together because of the tightness of her shirt.

I squeezed my cock a little tighter as my mind fast forwarded to our kiss. To how her tongue teased mine and her lips softened beneath the pressure of me. Pleasure jolted through me, and I bit back a low groan as the memory took on a mind of its own.

In my head, we weren't kissing.

She pulls off her shirt and it falls to the floor. I kiss down her neck until I reach the mound of her tits and take one pink nipple into my mouth. I suck hard, and she dives her fingers into my hair, moaning. She arches her back, forcing her tit further into my mouth.

My hand moved even faster on my cock, and my whole body tensed.

She reaches between us and unbuttons my pants. One hand slips inside my boxers, her fingertips brushing the head of my cock as I turn my attention to her other nipple. She wraps her fingers around my dick and slowly moves her hand up and down its length.

I clenched my jaw as that thought took over. It wasn't my fucking hand anymore. It was too easy to imagine that my rough palm was now her soft one.

She gasps as I suck harder on her nipple and slide my hand inside her pants. My fingertips rub against cotton panties, and I rub her through the material. She whimpers, momentarily pausing her hand. I dip my fingers beneath the panties to touch her wet clit. She gasps, gripping my cock tighter, and the easy circles I rub over her pussy seem to egg her on as she tugs hard on my erection...

“Ah!” I dropped my head forward as the fantasy won out. My balls tightened uncomfortably, along with the rest of my body, and I clenched my jaw as my orgasm swamped me. I pumped my fist along my cock as my release left me in spurts.

Fuck.

I hated myself for that.

It was so fucking wrong... So fucking sick, and I'd done it anyway. Less than twenty-four hours ago I'd had a gun pressed to the side of her head and now I'd just fucking come to a fantasy of her.

What the hell was wrong with me?

I cleaned myself up, this time using the soap for its correct purpose, and got out of the shower. My phone starting ringing as I secured a towel around my waist, and I ran to get it in case it was Enzio.

It was.

“Boss,” I answered, my hair dripping water onto the bed.

“Well?” he responded. “Isaiah said you wanted to speak with me. Have you not taken care of my problem yet?”

“Not exactly. I know where she is,” I added quickly. “But she hasn't been alone yet. Even last night, she stayed with a friend.”

“So kill the fucking friend.”

“Too risky. You know that.”

“What are you asking for, Carlo? More time? How do I know you're not lying to me?”

You don't.
“Because I've never failed. She has an active social life and goes to school. It seems like getting her alone will be hard. I can't guarantee I'll have her taken care of by tomorrow night.”

“And Alexandria?”

“I haven't seen her yet, Boss.”

There was almost silence at the other end. All I heard was several heavy breaths and the sound of a drawer opening and closing. He was probably lighting a cigar, the thing he did whenever he heard something he didn't like. Stopped him killing people on the spot.

Not that he had that option. That was probably why he was lighting the cigar—because he couldn't touch me.

The click of a lighter and one deep exhale proved me right. “You have an extra forty-eight hours. That's four motherfuckin' days, Carlo. Get the fuckin' job done, or you'll be done. Understood?”

“Understood.”

He clicked off the line without another word, and I dropped the phone on the bed with relief. Fucking hell. Enzio never gave extra time. Not to anyone. I knew then how important this job was to him.

He didn't just want Adriana dead—or Alexandria, for that matter. He needed them dead.

My phone rang again, but when I flipped it over to see the screen, I didn't recognize the number, so I ignored it and went to my suitcase. I got dressed in dark jeans and a black t-shirt, and when I turned, my phone was blinking. I grabbed it to clear the notification, but it showed me a voicemail.

I frowned and unlocked it, then dialed to retrieve it.

“
One new message, left today, at two twenty seven, p.m.
” Beep, and then the voice I didn't expect to hear traveled down the line. “
We need to talk. Meet me at El Matador beach at nine o'clock tonight. It's just north of Malibu. And secluded, so if you want to kill me, it's the perfect location.
”

I shook my head, but my lips twitched. Damn—she'd always been ballsy, but now Adriana Romano was staring death in the face, and she was fucking taunting him.

Of course she was. It was in her blood.

I went into the call log and tapped her number, then hit 'message' on the menu.

Hunter:
You're playing with fire, Principessa.

Her reply was instant. Almost as if she'd been waiting for me.

Adriana:
Wrong. I AM fire. Try not to get burned,
Cacciatore.

Cacciatore.
Hunter.

I put my phone face down as the word echoed in my mind. She was the only person who ever called me
Cacciatore.

Just like I was the only person who ever called her
Principessa.

If any part of my dark soul wasn't tainted with blood, I was sure it was the part that still loved her.

***

The sun was just beginning its descent toward the horizon as I turned off the Pacific Highway. The sky was currently painted with a golden glow that hinted at hues of red and pink and even purple, and I was thankful for my dark glasses.

The sun always seemed brightest as it gave way to darkness.

Ironic.

I pulled up near El Matador and killed the engine of the bike I'd rented after Adriana left me that message. I'd heard a million times that the best and only way to drive the coast of California was on the back of a bike, and I was fully aware I may never get to do it again.

I kicked the stand down and got off the bike. The steps that lead down to the tiny cove were only feet away from me, and I could see a sleek, red Audi parked next to them. That had to be Adriana's car, so I walked to the steps and started down them.

I saw her instantly.

She was sitting on one of the rocks with her back to me. Her hair blew in the gentle breeze that carried in off the Pacific, and she reached up several times to push it away from her face. By the time I reached the bottom of the steps, she'd swept it all around one side of her neck and was turned slightly into the wind.

My cock throbbed at the memory of my shower earlier that day. I was even more disgusted in myself as I watched her sitting in complete silence.

She looked like... peace. I knew she was anything but. She was chaos and danger and temptation threaded with darkness.

Adriana. Darkness.
Scuro.

It made no sense that the sweetest person I'd ever known meant darkness.

Yet my name, Carlo, meant free man, and I was the furthest thing from it. I was owned in my entirety by the man whose darkness bled into the girl sitting a few meters away from me.

I didn't want to speak to her. I wanted to stand here and stare at her. Just stare. She calmed the tornado that was my soul, and she had no idea.

Her name meant darkness, but she was gray compared to me. I was darker than she knew.

I didn't want to taint her with my damaged existence.

“I know you're there.” Her voice carried over the quiet crashing of the waves. “For an assassin, your approach resembles an angry toddler's.”

I watched as nature took hold of its sun-shaped paintbrush and dragged it down the sky toward the sea. Each inch painted the blue sky in shades of yellow, orange, red, and pink. They all mingled together like a watercolor painting, except this one glowed. It reflected up off the ocean and across the billions and billions of grains of sand that coated the beach.

The gentle lapping of the waves against the shore calmed me. I knew sitting with my back to the entrance to the beach was risky, but if Carlo was coming with a gun, I didn't want to see it. I didn't want the opportunity to look into his eyes and see the very thing I'd feared he'd become.

I'd told everyone I wasn't scared, but I was. Just not of the things they thought.

Death? No. I didn't fear death. A part of me welcomed it. Welcomed the silence, the peace, the black abyss. I figured that when it came, I'd be Alice jumping down the rabbit hole, except there would be no Wonderland, only numbness.

And if there was anything, it'd be the fiery pits of Hell.

So, no. I wasn't afraid of him killing him. I was afraid that he would and what that would mean for the boy who once pulled twigs and leaves out of my hair when I fell from a tree.

My heart refused to let go of the Hunter I knew. I hated it for it, but it cried out for the past. Cried for the boy I'd loved with all my understanding of it.

Maybe that was why I was at odds with my heart as I sat on the rock and looked out at the setting sun. I didn't want to remember how I loved Carlo 'Hunter' Rosso. I wanted to forget, because beneath everything, all the years and the darkness and the fear, I was afraid of loving him.

I was afraid a piece of me still did, because there was no goodbye. There were only silent footsteps in the night. No goodbye, no explanation, no closure. No promise that one day it would be worth it.

Maybe it wasn't worth it. Maybe it never would be worth it.

That's why he was standing ten feet away from me. The bike he'd driven up to the coastal cliff on wasn't the quietest thing in the world. In fact, it couldn't have been further from it. It was a tempest of anticipation and hesitance, a swirling tsunami of indecision and darkness.

It was Hunter, I realized.

“I know you're there,” I said without turning around. “For an assassin, your approach resembles an angry toddler's.”

“The bike wasn't maybe the best idea,” he said back.

I still didn't turn. “Not really.” I looked down and stretched one leg out in front of me. The sea was getting closer, but I'd left everything—including my shoes—in my car. If he was going to kill me now, I'd have no way to call for help.

I wanted it that way. I didn't want to know death was coming. I didn't imagine it usually knocked on doors—more picked the lock and caught you off guard.

Surprise tingled through my stomach when he climbed up onto the rock next to me.

“You're going to get wet feet,” I remarked, seeing his shoes still on.

He shrugged. “It's just water.”

Fair enough.

“It's quiet here,” he said after a moment of silence. “How do you cope?”

It was my turn to shrug. “It's not as quiet as you think. Los Angeles is as crazy as New York, in its own way. This little peace of heaven is just that: heaven.”

“I suppose.” Hunter reached his hands behind him to steady him and leaned back.

I tried to ignore the way his biceps flexed and tensed, but it was harder than I thought. I didn't want to think of him like this... Handsome. Hot. Fit. I didn't want to have the memory of his mouth against mine seared into my memory, either, but I did.

I slowly turned to face him. He was staring at me, and his gray eyes locked onto mine. It was a strange sensation, to be so intent on someone else's gaze that looking away seemed impossible. It was consuming and uncontrollable.

Hunter didn't move. He simply sat there, looking into my eyes, as the golden hue of the sunset cast itself across him, illuminating every angle of his face. His cheekbones seemed sharper, and the hair that coated his jaw cast hundreds of tiny shadows across his chin. The light made his eyes seem as though they were made of liquid silver.

I didn't know how he could be so still. My heart jumped into my throat, and I could feel its erratic beating as my blood pounded through my veins. The rush was so loud it echoed in my ears, all but washing out the steady crashing of the sea. I took a deep breath and tried to look away.

I couldn't. I was stuck here. I couldn't move, I couldn't look away, and I could barely breathe. My whole body was frozen in place.

And then, I leaned over and touched my lips to his.

He returned it, reaching up to cup the side of my neck. This time, he tasted like cinnamon buns and coffee. He didn't try and deepen the kiss, although I expected him to, so our lips just touched. Softly. Like a whisper.

I sat back up with a jolt. “I have no idea why I did that,” I whispered through the thundering of my heart.

He had to be able to hear it. Oh, God. This was going wrong. All wrong.

Hunter looked away, out to the sea. “Good to know we're both clueless.”

I stayed on the rock for a minute before I jumped down. The sea had crawled up the beach just far enough that it splashed as my feet hit the sand, and the sun had dropped low enough that there was a hint of deep, inky blue creeping across the sky. I knew that soon enough, that sky would be midnight blue and it'd be dotted with thousands of blinking stars.

Why did I have to kiss him?

I wished I knew the answer to that thought. I didn't want one kiss in my memory bank—never mind two. I wanted to forget. Forget everything. Forget him.

If only it were an option.

A light splash sounded behind me. “For someone who claims we need to talk, you're not doing a very good damn job of it.”

“Why am I alive?” The words blurted out of me as I spun back to face him. “If you're supposed to kill me. Really. I want to know why I'm alive.”

He quirked a brow. “Do you want to die?”

“Not particularly. I just want to know... why. Why didn't you pull the trigger?”