The Hunted (10 page)

“Okay,” I whisper into the phone.

“I know you hate my advice but do what you want. I’ve always tried to instill the empowerment within you not to care about what anyone thinks. So let it all go and live for you, sweetie.”

“It’s hard, Mom

“You’re my everything, Basil.”

She hangs up the phone as she always has, refusing to say goodbye to end a conversation. She claims she doesn’t believe in goodbyes.

A loud slam streaming from Van’s apartment startles me. I peek through the brown wool curtains and can make out his shadow on his front step. I halfway expect for him to have a woman hanging from him, but he doesn’t. My heart eases for a second until I see him tuck a very large handgun in the top his pants and then bending over he slides a knife down into his boot.

Van slams the door to his apartment, causing my wall to vibrate since our units are connected and saunters back down the sidewalk, vanishing out into the dark. It’s seamless as he melts into the dark. It’s like they’re one and meant for each other. The darkness loves him, and he wears it well.

Consider this the cherry on my very fucked up ice cream sundae. I slide down the wall and bury my face in between my knees, hurt and being a very lost soul who only craves Van Hollis.

G
annon
: Want to come over tonight?

Me: Sorry, have to work.

Gannon: I’ll miss you.

Me: You too.

I’ve been able to brush Gannon off the last two days and every single time I feel like scum at the bottom of a pond for doing it. The night after I kissed Van or rather Van’s lips attacked me, Gannon invited me to a party he really wanted to attend. Of course, I passed and encouraged him to take another date. Which led to angry texts from Ivy that I ignored. I can’t and won’t use him anymore.

Gannon has been nothing but amazing to me, but it’s simple he’s just not meant for me. It’s not him that zings in my blood or makes my pulse quicken.

Throwing my purse over my shoulder and sliding on my sunglasses, I head out to the grocery store. It’s an unusually gorgeous day outside with the sun shining brightly and even some light chirping of birds fill the background. The last few days it’s been overcast and super dark, matching my mood.

I look down at my pale legs and instantly crave for a day to lay out in the sun to work on my tan. I think it’s time for another visit home where I can rest and relax in comfort. The news around here has done nothing to comfort me in the least. A new body showed up the other morning. A twenty-two year old female with dark brown hair had been brutally attacked and then left with her throat slit open.

“Going somewhere?”

I look up to see Van strolling down the sidewalk. His lazy swagger and hand tucked into his pocket causes my knees to go weak. I stare at his lips, noticing his signature cigarette is gone and how I fucking crave to attach my lips to his.

“You know it’s not safe out there.” He points over his shoulder.

I leap from the steps, squaring right up to him, and begin poking his chest with each of my words. The anger rolls off me since he hasn’t even so much as looked in my direction since the night he kissed me.

“Well, I consider it pretty damn safe since you’re home now.”

So many unanswered questions stream through my head. I want answers from him. Where does he go at night and why a gun?

“What’s the supposed to mean?” Van’s healing face glares down at me.

“It fucking means what you think.”

I don’t give him another second before I turn around and walk away, but as I turn to flee, he catches my wrist.

“I’m going to ask you one more fucking time.” He pulls me back into him. “Where are you going?”

“Fuck off, Van.”

“Is this about the other night?” He lowers his lips to my earlobe and my whole body stands to attention.

“No, it’s about you.”

“What about me?”

Irritated and slightly turned on, I know I need to put a stop to all of this. “Just fuck off.”

I pull hard this time and get away from his clutch, quickly walking to the end of the sidewalk and to my dismay he follows me. I do my best to ignore him as I hustle down the sidewalk and across the streets at a rapid pace. But he doesn’t lose step with his long legs striding behind me.

When I reach the grocery store parking lot, I throw my hands up and turn back to him. Van slams into me as he was paying attention to his phone and not me.

“What are you doing? Leave me alone.”

“Bay, I’m watching over you.”

“Oh yeah, where were you the last two days and where do you go at night?” I scream.

“Don’t push me.”

“Seriously, Van, someone could easily break down my door and get me in the middle of the night, but you’re worried about me grocery shopping when you leave every single fucking night.”

Hurt scrolls across all of his features and I don’t give a shit. He’s turned me into this beast that only craves him.

“You seem to care about me.” I step closer to him taking all of Van Hollis in. “You turn me on, Van. You can play me like a fucking fiddle and protect me at the nightclub, yet you leave me every single night. And you’re worried about me fucking going to the fucking grocery store to buy produce?”

I’ve never in my life used the F bomb in one breath of air, but that bitch felt good every single time it danced off my tongue.

“Stop, Bay.”

“No, you stop and leave me the fuck alone, Van. You’ve done enough for me.”

My voice drips with sarcasm. His hand grips the back of my head, tugging a bit on my curls, and then he drops his lips to mine. It’s like the other night on replay. His tongue darts into my mouth and takes its time exploring every single part of me. I fall into him once again, letting him have his way with me.

Van’s other hand goes to my lower back, pulling me in tighter. His palm sneaks under my shirt, gripping onto my lower back. He moans into my mouth as his palm makes contact with my skin. Slowly, his tongue retracts as he bites down on my lower lip with one last pained sound. And I feel all of him pressing into me.

“Seems to be the only way to get you to shut the fuck up.” He drops his forehead to mine. “One of Stew’s dancer was killed last night. Throat slit wide open. Stew is beside himself and told me to watch you.”

“Where do you go at night?”

“That’s none of your fucking business.”

Van clasps my hand in his and starts walking towards the store. Once I have a cart, he lets go of me and goes back to studying his phone. Quickly, I grab groceries, wanting to be back in the solitude of my apartment. I much prefer watching him through the curtains.

“Grab something for breakfast.”

“Van, it’s nearly one o’clock.”

“Then get shit for lunch.”

“I’m not your fucking slave,” I declare but can’t ignore how my body reacts to him. Fucking traitorous bastard, it is.

I stare forward, not making eye contact with him and try to focus on the display of orange juice. I feel him close in on me and then his lips graze my neck.

“No shit, if you were mine I’d beat this ass of yours.” His lips pepper every inch of my delicate skin on my neck. “Now, be a good neighbor and make me lunch.”

Whirling around, I thump him in the chest. “You’ve got to stop that.”

“What?”

“Touching me and controlling me with your sexiness.”

“You think I’m sexy?” He quirks an eyebrow.

“God, you’re so frustrating.” I feel my face redden with frustration.

“Lunch and let’s go.”

I roll my eyes and continue shopping and to my dismay find myself tossing stuff for a pot of spaghetti with the other fixings that go with it in the cart. Once checked out, I’m left with more shopping bags than I expected.

“I didn’t know anyone used these anymore.” Van grabs the handles of all my reusable shopping bags that I pulled from my purse and packs the groceries.

“My mom would beat my ass and then curse me to hell if I used plastic.” I snag a pack of donuts peeking from the top of a bag and begin snacking on them.

“What does your mom think of you living down in the hood?”

“The hood?” I spray crumbles of donuts into the air from my laughter.

“It’s not a place for a girl like you.”

“She doesn’t care and what do you mean a girl like me?”

“You know damn well what I mean, Bay. You’re too good to be working for Stew or living in that hellhole.”

“You don’t know that.” I bring another donut to my mouth, but Van is faster and way smoother than me. He swoops down and grabs it with his mouth, letting his teeth nibble on one of my fingertips as he does.

“Hey!”

“I’m fucking hungry,” he jeers.

The fucking asshole oozes sexiness and power even when chowing down on a powdered donut. White powder speckles the corner of his lips.

I laugh loudly as he makes it rain donut crumbs in the air. “Clearly.”

His phone goes off rapidly in his pocket and from the sounds of it, it’s a combination of texts and phone calls.

“Want me to get that for you?” I point to his pocket.

“Oh, Bay, I want you to play with my pecker but not in public like this.”

“Van, you are so gross.”

“You know you want me.”

“I do … like you have no fucking idea.” I slap my mouth, spraying even more powdered donuts into the air. He’s a storm that will wreck me forever, but I just want a taste of him. No, my reality is that I crave for Van to control every aspect of me.

His hands are filled with grocery bags. His phone is going off in his pocket and that powder on his face is just begging to be licked off. It’s so not me, but I move towards him and lap up the powder from his cheek, enjoying the way his light stubble tickles my tongue while I reach deep in his pocket for his phone.

I hand him the phone, watching him while he cradles it between his cheek and shoulder. He tries to catch my tongue with his teeth but I’m too fast and his hands are too full. I go back deep into his pocket feeling around and don’t miss his want for me. It’s huge and hard. Bigger than I remember. Taking my time I let my fingers lazily grace up and down his length and listen to him talk on the phone.

He struggles as I begin a rhythmic motion with my hand, reaching with my other hand back into the donut box. I stuff one in his mouth and clutch his cock–hard.

“Got to go.” Van makes the spray of donuts his bitch as the powder showers down on us.

I snag his phone before it tumbles to the relentless pavement of the parking lot and tuck it deep back in his pocket, letting the back of my knuckles graze against his hardened member. While I make sure his phone is tucked away, he wiggles a donut between my lips, letting his finger stay in my mouth. My tongue works easily around the donut, making its way to his finger.

“You carrying a pistol or just happy to see me?” I spray white powder all over his chest with my cheesy ass joke. I’m fucking punch drunk on donuts right now.

“Jesus, Junior, it’s like you’re straight from a coloring book.”

“Hey, don’t call me that.” I slap his ass and begin to walk when he bumps me with his shoulder.

“You are, Junior. So innocent and just fucking ready to live life.”

“Is that bad?” I stare down at his white Cons pounding the ground. The rustling of the grocery sacks fills my mind.

“I think it’s the reason I want you so damn bad.” He bumps my shoulder a bit harder as we walk. “I’m no good, Bay, but I fucking need you in my life. It’s like every other decision in my life–I’m greedy.”

It takes me a moment to gather my thoughts and focus on the steps ahead of me while catching my breath. “I don’t think you’re greedy.”

He doesn’t reply to my comment as we keep up step for step back to our apartments. I was so pissed rushing over here, but now I relish each time the bottom of our sneakers pounds the pavement. The silence becomes the third wheel in our fucked up shopping trip.

“Van.”

“Junior?”

“I need to stop on Thirteenth.”

“Why?”

“I stop there every time I go to the store.”

“You do know that several bodies have been found there.”

“Van!” My voice comes out as a yell when I halt to a stop, gripping onto his elbow. “Enough with the dead bodies. You told me you’d protect me.”

“I did.” He nods.

I hunger to ask so many other questions but let it go. “Then you should know I always visit Thirteenth on my way home.”

He doesn’t nod or speak.

“I need that bag.” I point to his crooked elbow and begin unlacing the tangled bags. I see the question all over his face but don’t answer him and only look forward.

The tattered navy blue jacket of my friend fills my vision then his scent assaults me. His overgrown nails with dirt embedded underneath them reflect back in the streetlight. He smiles back at me warming my heart.

“Girl.” He sings into the air.

“Here you go.” I hand him his bag.

“God Bless.”

He scurries off, not giving me a thanks. His smile is all the thanks I need. I’ve done this every single time since moving here and have seen so many others try to steal what I give to him.

“What did you give him?” Van asks as we continue back down the sidewalk.

“Just some food.”

“Looked like he won the fucking lotto.” Van turns to me raising an eyebrow. “And if he would’ve stared at your ass I was going to beat his.”

“Van, you’d beat up a homeless guy?”

“Yep.”

I can’t help but laugh at his ridiculousness and take a second to relish this lighter side of him.

Smiling proudly. “Van, when I moved here I was so hungry living off popcorn until the tips added up and then I went grocery shopping and ran into him nibbling on a carton of rotten berries.”

I have to pause because all the emotions well up way too deep to carry on.

“And you helped him,” he finishes for me.

“I try to give him food every couple of days. No one deserves to survive on rotten food from a trashcan.” I shudder with the thought.

I can only nod as he grips my back with his free hand.

“You don’t see the differences, do you?”

Crooking my head to the side, I don’t understand his question.

“You don’t see the bad guy or the good guy.”

My hand flies to his heart with my fingernails digging into his shirt. “I see this.”

His eyes snap shut.

“I see the person inside, not what the world sees.”

“I’m the bad guy,” he repeats for the umpteenth time.

My lips seal to his but leave enough room to speak. “You’re my bad guy then.”

When we reach my front steps, he sets down the bags.

“I’ll be back for lunch. I just have to make some calls first.”

And as if he sees the question on the tip of my tongue he also adds, “Yes, I’m setting up an assembly to kill kittens.”

He winks at me before striding over to his place.

“Let me know if you need help bagging those kitties.” I decide to play into his joke.

“Oh, there’s only one kitty I intend to bag and that’s yours.”

I crash into my limits of joking as my face burns with embarrassment, and I stumble into my apartment.

The door to his apartment slams shut, causing my body to spring into action. I scramble into my place and grab all the paintings that resemble him on them and toss them in my closet. Then I go about starting lunch.

Spaghetti is the one thing I do know how to cook. It was my favorite meal growing up. My mom never cooked meals that I loved, so Google taught me how. Over the years, I’ve perfected the perfect sauce that has a little tang to it. I let the sauce simmer on the stove as I race to the bathroom and fix myself up a little.