It took him a long time to come to an understanding of why she didn’t love him and Drake, like other moms loved their kids. And why she felt like she had no other choice but to leave a world that was causing her so much pain.
“You won’t have to worry about him hurting her again,” I promised, finally catching Blair’s attention. “I’m going to make sure of it.”
“You’re gonna protect her, right?”
I frowned, folding my arms across my chest. “I said I would.”
“People say a lot of things.”
“I don’t say anything I don’t mean.”
I watched her process my words in her head, and things began to make sense. It had always been just her and her mom. They’d been fighting and hiding and running from the world for Blair’s entire fucking life. Not able to settle anywhere or make long term friends for fear that they might find out the truth. And right at this moment, Blair was having to process the fact that the truth was out there, and there were very real people trying to hurt the one person she thought she could trust.
“No one has ever protected her before,” she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. “Her mom ran out, her dad beat her, then there were the men.”
“You protected her,” I quipped. “You stepped in today, and you protected her.”
Her eyes fell to the bat she still had a firm grip on, and she frowned. “Did I really beat a man today?”
“You really fucking did.” I chuckled, seeing that sparkle of pride in her eyes.
“I fucking did, didn’t I.”
“You can also fucking watch that language,” I scolded, catching a handful of my brothers walking out to their rides. They were waiting for me. We had something to take care of, and I wasn’t about to fucking wait until someone died.
“You know where he is?” I questioned Junior as he fell in step with me.
He nodded. “Found him in a run-down apartment block just south.”
“Good, grab the van, we’ll follow you.”
The door clicked, the sound of rattling keys like a shot of adrenaline straight into my veins.
“Stupid… can’t even…”
“Bad day?” I questioned, stepping out of the shadows, the light from the kitchen barely grazing my face.
Paul Mathison jumped, stumbling as he spun around, falling back against the ugly mustard yellow kitchen counter. I guess at least it matched the cupboards. Maybe it was a trendy thing back in the 1930s. Back when this run down piece of shit apartment would have been in it’s prime. The carpet that ran through the place was only slightly better, though the bright red color was going to possibly save me a job later.
He tried to laugh off the surprise, tugging on his dark hoodie and steadying his feet. “Ah, Huntsman, right?” he questioned with a soft chuckle. “I’m familiar with your club.”
“Good, then I don’t have to explain why the fuck I’m here,” I threw back, stepping further into the light. “That’ll save time.”
My gun was leveled at his head within a second.
The change in his demeanor was instant.
The fear in his eyes visible, at least to me.
“Woah, woah, woah! Let’s talk about this!”
I laughed loudly, taking two large steps forward before he could even blink and throwing a punch, purposely missing with my right just to make him flinch and think he was safe before I drove my left right into his stomach, my fist finding that soft spot right in the center.
He keeled over, his nails clawing at the counter as he fought to keep on his feet while he dry-retched.
I opened the drawer nearest to me, reaching for one of the sharp knives inside. “She was just a little girl,” I spat, forcing the knife hard into the top of his hand. “Oh, sorry, does that fucking hurt?” I called over his screams of agony.
I took a step back, inhaling deeply, trying to slow my heart down and keep it at an even level though the entire situation already had me itching, my blood boiling with rage like it was trying to burn through my skin from the inside.
Paul, on the other hand, was sweating, his skin pale as he struggled to breathe through the pain. I hadn’t driven the knife in far, just enough so he would have to pull it out himself. Which he did a moment later, tossing the offending object to the floor in disgust and horror. I could hear my brothers chuckling and moving in the shadows behind me. I could feel them, keeping close, following each step I made cautiously.
My men—my brothers—had my back.
No matter fucking what.
They also knew that if shit hit the fan, if something happened and we were caught out, they were willing to face the consequences right beside me. Those were the sacrifices we made for our family, and not only had I made a promise to protect Zoey and Blair like they were our own, but I also had no intentions of letting them leave.
Paul moved, slinking along the counter and out into the living area. He could run all he liked, but the rush of adrenaline I was suddenly feeling was like taking a shot straight into my veins, my heart rate climbing. I lurched forward before he could escape, grasping the front of his fucking shirt with my left hand and driving my right fist directly into his nose. His back hit the sliding glass door with a heavy thud, the force of my fist jerking his head back.
The crack of the glass was loud.
Tiny veins moving outward like shock waves, though the large pane managed to hold together without shattering.
“You should have gotten out of jail, got yourself a little job, and stayed the fuck away from her,” I warned him, leaning into his space. “You could have moved on with your life. But now, because you decided to come back for her, well… now you’re in my world. And here, not only am I god, but I’m also the executioner.”
I grabbed the runner above the door and leaned back, at the same time, raising my shit-kicker and driving the flat bottom of it straight into the bastard’s stomach. The glass door shattered, Paul screaming as he flew backward through the raining glass before slamming into the metal banister of the small patio.
“Grab him and throw him in the van.”
“Van?” He groaned, struggling to get to his feet, the glass slicing at his hands.
I crouched down in front of him, making sure he was looking me right in the eye as I spoke, “We’re going to take a little road trip out to the forest,” I explained gently like I was talking to a child. Because I wanted him to know exactly what was about to happen. “And you’re going to learn first-hand why I’m called Huntsman.”
His eyes shot open wide while his head shook furiously back and forth. The boys grabbed him from the ground and dragged him through the apartment screaming for help.
“Hope he can run fast.” Drake snorted while shaking his head.
“Or hide well,” Junior added.
I shrugged. “Either way doesn’t matter. I never lose.”
10
Huntsman
This was a bad fucking idea.
I hadn’t had a woman on the back of my bike since Josie was alive. And even then, a lot of the time she simply refused. But within seconds of having Zoey pressed to my fucking back, my cock was already straining at my jeans. The ride from the construction site to the house was only five fucking minutes, and I was almost sure we weren’t going to make it without me having to pull over and do something about it.