Heart of the Hunter (10 page)

I would sit on the living room couch by the window so I could see their headlights coming down the street and be quick off the phone. Looking back now, I know that they knew what I was doing. There was one phone in our house and it was right next to the spot I was always sitting when they came in. They never said anything though, just hugged me and asked if Lucas had been any trouble. Then I would go to bed, secure in my life and my place in the world.

That
night was different though.

I saw the headlights coming down the street and hung up the phone as the car drove into the driveway. I quickly pulled out the book I used as my cover story, flipped to a random page, and waited for the key to turn the lock and my parents to walk in. But there was no key this time, and my parents were not there. This time, there was a knock and I didn’t even think anything of it. I thought maybe they’d forgotten their key or something. I walked to the door and opened it expecting to see the warm smiles of my parents, but instead saw the sheriff standing on our porch with his hat in his hand.

My heart sank to my stomach and I couldn’t squeeze out any words. I just stood there, staring at him.

I don’t remember much of what he said, but he explained that my parents weren’t coming home that night, or ever again. I stared at the brass star on his shirt. To this day, seeing him in uniform brings back memories of that night. Years later, when I dated his son Phil, I got to know him a little better, but I could never forget the night he’d come to tell me my parents were dead.

Apparently from what witnesses said, a coyote had darted in front of the car as they were driving, and my father swerved to avoid it, mistaking it for a neighbor’s dog. The car had spotty steering at the best of times and couldn’t recover from the quick jolt it had just made. My parents crashed into a telephone pole, and by the time anyone arrived there was nothing that could be done. Just like that, for no reason and with nothing to be done, I had lost the two people who loved me more than anything else in the world. And I had also lost the peaceful life I had always known.

I don’t even remember weeping. It was months before I cried over them. I couldn’t take in and process what had happened, let alone digest the reality I was now living. I just went into a fog and did what needed to be done to survive.

Grace came by and took us home with her the next day. It started out as a temporary arrangement until the dust settled, but quickly became something more. Lucas and I had no living relatives, and there was no one else who could take us in without separating us. Grace was a good woman who had lost her husband years ago and had never remarried. She was a mother with no children and, although she never tried to replace our parents, was the closest thing Lucas and I had to family after that fateful night. We both liked her very much before that day and we both loved her after. She was an angel in the darkest times and had stayed with us ever since.

Suddenly the phone rang and shook me out of my stupor. I made my way down the hall and answered sleepily.

“Well, that’s the sound of a weary woman if I’ve ever heard one. Tell me you’ve had a proper dinner tonight, dear?”

It was Grace. I sighed and smiled into the receiver.

“I just fed Luke, Grace, and got him settled for the night. I’ve got a tin of soup and some bread and I’ll be feeding myself shortly.”

I was lying. I had bread, but that was pretty much it. I had lost a day’s work today and had been planning to buy groceries with the tips I would have made. Bread would be fine and the grocery store would still be there tomorrow.

“A fine cook like you and you’re heating up soup for dinner? Well, that just won’t do at all. I’m coming over with some food and we’re going to have a proper meal.”

“Grace, please. You’ve had a long day too, and I’m not going to have you coming over here and cooking me dinner. Thank you. Thank you so much, but I think we all just need the rest.”

“Hush now. Who said anything about me cooking dinner? I cook all day, dear. I’m bringing food over and
you
are cooking
me
dinner. I need to be taken care of sometimes too you know, plus, there’s no soup, is there, dear?”

I laughed wearily and knew there was no way to lie my way out of this.

“Come on over, Grace. I would be happy to cook you dinner, and thankful for your company.”

“Now that is more like it. I’ll be over in a jiffy, dear.”

We hung up and I sat down at the table and rested my head on my hands. I was so tired. I hadn’t eaten since the candy bar I had for breakfast and my stomach rumbled at the thought of a real meal.

“Grace to the rescue once again.”

I closed my eyes and thanked God for putting her on this earth.

Chapter 17

Hunter

I
T WAS JUST LIKE OLD TIMES.

I couldn’t even try to count the number of bottles Deacon and I had shared over the years. It started when we were fourteen, back in school. We’d both ended up in detention for working over some kids one day.

Deacon had been walking down the hall, minding his own business, when some uppity rich boy put the shoulder to him just to be a prick. Apparently, Deacon had gotten a handjob from this prick’s girlfriend and he didn’t think that was appropriate behavior. Maybe the son of a bitch should have taken better care of her. Or maybe he should have realized we were fourteen fucking years old and that all that shit didn’t matter. In any case, as if that little display wasn’t enough to send Deacon flying off the handle, the poor bastard decided to inform him that his mother was a whore, and his old man, a worthless drunk. Now, that’s not to say these things weren’t both true. Deacon’s pop was a piece of shit and his ma had fucked her way around town, but it was one thing for that to be the truth and another to bring it up. He knew it, no one had to remind him.

I rounded the corner of the hall just in time to see Deacon head-butt the mouthy fucker, kick out his knee, and teach him some manners with his fists. We were still young and, like me, Deacon blacked out most people around him save whoever he was focused on at the time. I noticed this when I saw one of rich boy’s jock friends rush Deacon from behind. Another was getting ready to sucker punch him.

Rich fucks never had any balls. They couldn’t look you in the eye, they were just too scared to really do anything. I knew it was none of my business and I could see Deacon could handle himself just fine, but at the same time I wasn’t about to let these fucks get a leg up like that. That and it was a chance for me to use my God given talents, plus I was still seething from taking a before school ass kicking from my old man. Seemed as good a time as any to blow off some steam and take a couple of rich boys down a notch. Win-win.

A teacher and a janitor pulled us off the helpless bastards before we did any real damage, but it was the beginning of a long and rewarding friendship for Deacon and me. That was the first time Deacon and I went to war together. It certainly wouldn’t be the last, but it solidified us as two motherfuckers you didn’t dare cross. If you went after one, you got the other, regardless of whether you had issue with him or not. It was trouble enough having one of us on your bad side. You sure as shit didn’t want us both.

That day in detention we blew out as soon as the teacher left the room and pounded down a bottle of whiskey Deacon had taken off his old man. We didn’t say much and that suited us just fine. We were cut from the same cloth and in that moment both of us knew that we had someone who had our back, no questions asked.

We developed a bond over our mutual need for violence, whiskey, and women and used them as fuel to forget the shit cards we got dealt.

His family was just as shitty as mine except those miserable cunts were actually his blood. I don’t know what’s worse, being born into that or just ending up there. Either way, it’s what we both were stuck with and we spent most of our young lives chasing girls, getting fucked up, and scrapping whoever was stupid enough to bother us.

Deacon moved out of his home as soon as he turned sixteen and dropped out of school to work. He lied about his age and got a job on the nightshift at a factory. He felt good to be away from his folks and was already succeeding far beyond his old man. He had watched his father fuck up job after job and just never give a shit. The old man would take his frustrations about his whore wife and his poverty out on his son until the son knocked his ass out one day.

Fucking fathers.

Sometimes they needed a good lesson more than their kids, and sometimes they learned the hard way.

It was around this same time that my old man discovered there was a use for me other than a punching bag when he came in drunk. That’s when I started in the Donnelly family business. I was happy to have the old man off my ass, and apparently he was happy to have someone with little to no conscience under his thumb to handle the parts of his business he didn’t want to touch. I went to school less and less and eventually got the family to agree to pay me for my handy work if I moved out and took care of myself.

Deacon went the straight and narrow and I got sucked deeper down below, but at least we were out on our own. We didn’t see each other as much, but whenever we did, you could guarantee there would be brown liquor and a fucking brawl, even if it was just the two of us. We were brothers in the truest sense of the word and the closest thing to family either of us had ever known. When one of us got in the shit, the other threw himself right in after, without giving it a second thought. He went to war for me, I went to war for him, and we’d down a few bottles of beer as we stepped over the bodies and left the bloodied battlefield.

It was just the way it was and always would be. Ever since that brawl in the ninth fucking grade.

I hate to say this because it makes me sound like a sentimental fuck, but I loved Deacon. He was the brother I never had. I wouldn’t have made it through my teenage years without his having my back. That’s the truth.

Chapter 18

Hunter

“H
OW THE FUCK DID YOU
find me, Deacon? I mean, this is a lovely goddamn surprise and all, but what are you doing here, man?”

Deacon just slowly paced and looked around the room, taking hits off the bottle of whiskey.

“This is a real nice place you got here, Hunter. Real fucking cozy. I like where you put the fridge. You decorate yourself?”

He motioned to the toppled over hunk of metal that was wedged between the cot and the wall.

“Deacon, I’m serious, man. What the fuck is going on? This place is far from the biggest shithole I’ve hung my hat, and I know you’re not here just to bust my balls and drink. How did you find me and what the fuck do you want?”

He slowly walked over and sat down on the knocked over fridge, letting out a deep sigh, and passed the bottle to me.

“One, you’re not hard to find, asshole. At least not for me. You haven’t exactly been covering your tracks. And two,” he paused and looked around the room again like he was checking all the possible ways someone could get in, “you’re in the shit, pal. You’re really in the shit this time.”

“Jesus, Deacon. Fucking tell me something I don’t know, brother,” I chuckled, as I took the bottle and drank a good couple gulps down.

“No, Hunter. You don’t fucking know. Your old man,” he stopped mid-sentence and leaned his arms on his knees. “Your old man is on the fucking war path. What are the two most important things to that miserable old cunt? Money and reputation, right? They’re all he has in his joke of a life, and you took a big chunk of one and spit in the face of the other. He’s fucking losing it, Hunter. Tearing the neighborhood apart trying to figure out what the fuck happened to you. He won’t stop till he finds out where you are. It’s all he’s fucking thinking about.”

I knew Deacon was trying to warn me or give me a heads up or whatever, but all I felt was joy. Old man Donnelly had been a thorn in my goddamn side since his old lady had convinced him to take me in, all those years back. I don’t even know why he did it. I guess he loved her as much as his black heart was capable of. First and last time the bastard felt that, I’m sure. As soon as she passed, he made it crystal fucking clear what a parasite he thought I was, and made sure I never forgot it. I just went with it because it was all I knew. Shit, it was all I had. I was a fucking kid. Now, I had finally stood up to him and stuck it to the old fuck. I’d made him see that he wasn’t in fucking control, at least not of me. He never was. He kept me caged up my whole life and now I was out. It was his turn to feel like nothing.

Come find me, you useless old fuck. I pray you fucking do, and I’ll be waiting to shove a barrel down your throat.

“Well, pal,” I said, lighting a smoke. I slid one out of the pack for Deacon. “Good thing I hit the road then, hey?”

Deacon looked up and shook his head.

“You and me both, brother.” He took the cigarette and fired it up. “Your old man is no fucking fool. He’s an asshole, but no fool. First door he came knocking on was mine.”

“Ha. How did that go for the poor bastards he sent over?”

Deacon just smiled.

“It was time for me to get gone as well, Hunter.” He took the bottle back and stood up. “So what’s your grand plan, asshole? You know your old man is coming. It didn’t take me too long to track you down and you know he’s not going to be far behind. You just going to let a storm hit this nice little town?”

“I’m not going to fucking run. That’s for goddamn sure.”

“Yeah? I thought that was your thing these days.”

“Hey. Watch your fucking mouth, pal.”

Deacon just shrugged and raised his eyebrows.

“Just saying, Hunter. You’re up here, in Buttfuck, Montana, in a one room shithole, working as a civilian? I mean, that ain’t exactly standing tall.”

I felt my fists clench and my teeth grit. I just sat there letting his words sink in.

“If you’re looking for a fucking scrap, Deacon, I’ll give you one. You fucking know who I am. Don’t fucking question me.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I do know who you are, and this isn’t it. You’re goddamn right I’m calling you out. If I need to slap you around a bit to remind you, I fucking will. If that’s what it takes for you to quit being a pussy. Get your ass back to Boston. We’ll ride in together and finish this shit with the old man. You know I’ll war for you, Hunter. What the fuck do you want to stick around here for anyway? Where are you going to go? Boston is in your blood, pal. It’s part of who you are.”