The Hunted (4 page)

“No need to be shy with me, kid.”

“I’m not a kid,” I whisper.

“That you are.”

He whirls me back around and easily maneuvers me through the dark alleyway and out into the lit street. His pace picks up as our apartment comes into view. I’m used to him walking behind me at a distance, not right next to me.

He waits as I fumble with the keys but must grow impatient as he rips them from my hand.

“Who was that?” I finally dig up enough courage to ask him about the cop from the bar.

“My worst nightmare.”

“He’s a cop.”

“And my brother.”

“Are you…”

Before I get to finish, he does it for me.

“Identical twins by appearance, but I’m the rotten apple and he’s the golden boy.”

“He’s a cop.” I’m not sure why it escapes me for a second time, but it does.

“He’s not a good guy no matter what you think, Bay.” He runs his hands over his dark hair letting his hoodie fall off, and it might be the first time I’ve seen him without it. A long scar runs down the side of his head.

“I shouldn’t do this again, but I can’t fucking help myself.”

His lips crash down onto mine again and this time it’s rough, hot, and sexy. My hands finally come alive as they explore his shoulders and hang on tight to his neck. And even though everything about this man is dangerous, I crave him. Crave him more than anything else at this moment. He’s lit a desire in me.

He pulls back slightly with our lips still touching. “I’m not good either, rookie.”

The pad of his thumb rubs tender circles on my jawbone.

“You’ve been good to me.”

“I can’t kiss you again.”

“Why?” I ask, worried.

“Because next time I won’t be able to stop.”

And with that he escapes into the dark streets. I wait for him to come back to his apartment but know it will never happen. Since moving in, Van Hollis only enters his apartment at the crack of dawn. It’s as if the shadows in the dark are his only genuine friends.

I
vy
: Going home today. Want a ride?

Me: Yes, please. I need to get some things from home.

Ivy: Gannon wants to see you again.

My palms instantly become sweaty thinking about the gorgeous god called Gannon. I’m shocked my awkwardness didn’t send him for the hills. I type out a quick okay, cover my face with my pillow and scream into it. The man does things to my body just thinking about him. His toasted skin, bright golden hair, and smile should be illegal.

I rub the pads of my fingers over my lips wondering how Gannon’s lips would feel compared to Van’s, and with that thought everything goes to my dark and mysterious neighbor.

My fingers are itchy for my paints, a clean canvas, and the time to paint his gorgeous features.

My phone chimes, distracting me from mentally undressing Gannon and then Van while comparing their two bodies and deciding which one to lick.

Ivy: Good. I gave him your number. He’s riding along today. I’ll see you in a couple of hours.

Van’s been distant and since he told me that he’d never kiss me again, I have to erase him from my mind. My damn memory plays tricks on me and constantly reminds me how deliciously sinful he made me feel.

Bolting from the bed, a line of curse words flows from my mouth, as I bounce into the bathroom and stare at my reflection in the mirror. Lifting my nightshirt, I check out my stomach and wonder what I should wear. A small pouch protrudes from my belly. It has to be my very unhealthy diet as of late. Stew’s place does have the best bar food I’ve ever tasted.

Not wasting too much time, I riffle through the couple of piles of clothes littered on the floor and decide on a cute and simple tank top paired with some khaki shorts. My hair is an absolute mess, which requires a light splattering of water and a spat of gel to tame down the curls and coax them into tight ringlets. I decide to leave it down but check in the mirror every few minutes to make sure it doesn’t spring out of control.

Lazily, I drag my finger through a perfect curl and remember Van complimenting my hair and tugging on it.
Fuck! No more Van.

The oak treasure chest underneath the kitchen sink screams my name. It’s where I stash all my cash from waitressing. All my money is divided into different baggies designated for different bills. There’s one labeled “ART” and I’ve just been waiting for the right time to blow it on new supplies. My fingers itch to rip it open to splurge on new paints. The fray on the end of my shorts keeps my mind busy as well as my fingers as I watch the minutes tick by on my phone.

A loud honking distracts me. Immediately, I recognize it as Ivy’s car and dart to the sink, snag the baggie labeled “ART” and dash to the door. My hands run down the length of my top and then straighten my hair. Quickly, I peek into the cracked mirror next to the door, checking out my simple eyeliner and quadruple check my hair.

“Here goes nothing,” I say to myself as I tuck the money deep down in my purse.

My knuckles turn white as I grip the strap of my purse and try to lock the door to my apartment.
Relax. Just relax, Bay.
The keys tumble to the ground, and I let out a breath to calm my nerves. It’s silly to think a full grown adult such as myself could have such a damn nervous tick.
Again, thank you, Mother, for being such a free fucking spirit sculpting a nervous, timid idiot who can’t even lock a door without being a hot mess.

“Need help?”

I turn and see him. The man of every one of my daydreams and the same exact man I’m trying to replace with a good boy like Gannon. Van is standing on his front porch, shirtless with low riding black jeans. My gaze trails down his legs to his bare feet, and I have to keep my teeth gritted together so my jaw doesn’t hit the pavement of my small porch.

A lit cigarette dangles from his lips as he stretches his arms to the heavens, causing his pants to dip dangerously low showcasing his V.

“I’m … I’m … I’m.”

I watch as he walks my way, closing the space in nearly five long strides. When he’s next to me, I instantly recognize his musky smell. Without a word, he picks up the keys and effortlessly locks the door. His arms are thick and flex with each movement. Again, I feel the need to rub my thighs together to relieve some pressure.

“Tom Petty?” I ask.

He only nods as “Free Falling” streams from his apartment.

“I liked it when you kissed me, Van.”

I don’t blush or back down from him. My hand finds the center of his chest and his bare skin electrifies me.

I’m used to seeing him dressed in a hoodie cloaking off his good looks. We haven’t chatted since the other night, although he has walked me home a few times, and I’ve caught him staring at me plenty while I was waiting on tables my last two shifts.

I can’t help but admire the tattoos that adorn his skin. There’s so many of them intertwining each other it’s hard to make them out as individual works of art. The most noticeable one runs up the inside of his bicep and reads, “I’m not him” in large Gothic letters.

The question is on my lips when he hands me my keys.

“Careful tonight, kid.”

And he’s off before I can even say thank you or ask about that tattoo. His jeans rise and fall as he walks away, giving me the perfect peek at his very toned and sculpted ass. As he walks back up his steps, he tugs up one side of his jeans and then leans back against the door.

I’ve never wanted to be a door so badly in my life. His long, lean body rests back while he slowly inhales his cigarette. His head rolls to look at me, and Van catches me staring at him. When he makes eye contact with me, it’s like a trance I’m unable to break. I’m not sure if it’s a magical pull or just one I never want to quit staring at.

“Thank you.” It comes out as a whisper and an immediate flush creeps up from my toes.

He nods at me as smoke billows from his mouth and either he heard me or is sick of me staring. Ivy’s horn goes off in a solid honk causing Van to crack a slight grin, and it’s the first time I’ve ever seen his lips turn upwards. It’s a sight I brand to memory to sketch out and paint later on.

“My friend isn’t patient.” This time a normal voice comes out.

He nods again at me, and I feel my knees buckle underneath me. The man is fucking hot as fuck and does something to my body. Thank God, I only run into him at work and have enough of a distraction not to let him bother me. But out in the open like this is an entirely different story, and I’m not sure how many more encounters likes this I can survive.

“Holy shit. Who is that beefcake?” Ivy asks before my ass hits the front seat of her car. I let out a long breath and realize my ovaries are about to melt in a second when I turn around and see Gannon. I’m so ready to crawl back into that apartment and keep living as a hermit. This is all so new to me. Men have been so far off my radar it isn’t even funny.

Quickly, I shrug my shoulders. “I don’t know. Some guy, I guess.”

I refuse to go into details about him, my job, or the crime spree that’s been rampant in this part of the city.

A large hand covers my shoulder and I jump a bit in my seat. A deep chuckle comes from the backseat.

“Sorry, Bay.”

“Hey, Gannon.” I twist in the front seat to make eye contact. In all honesty, my eyes have been thirsty for the god called Gannon. His blond hair is once again styled perfectly in a faux hawk, and his outfit is something straight out of GQ, making me feel like a slob who dressed from a pile of clothes on her floor.

I send him a quick smile, and I start to turn around. Before I twist around completely he stops me. “It’s really good to see you again.”

His fingertips dig slightly into the top of my shoulders, and I want to melt back into my seat.

“You too.”

“Finally,” Ivy’s voice rings out, “you decide to do something with us.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Well, I’ve never heard of a mom and pop coffee shop staying open so late and working employees so much.”

“I told you that I got a second job to help with stuff.”

“Yeah, what was it again?”

Knowing too many lies are hard to keep up with, I distract her immediately. “You never listen to me. I have proof now. Anyway, how’s school and life?”

“Oh, Ivy is the campus superstar,” Gannon throws in from the backseat.

“I have no doubt.” I pat her bare leg and then pinch her for spite.

“Stop, I’m driving.”

I listen intently to Gannon and Ivy spill their guts about campus life. How difficult their courses are, how so many guys were after Ivy and how they’ve attended some major parties. The more they talk it seems Ivy has a thing for Gannon. It’s easy to pick up on, and I’m shocked I never saw it on our first outing. Maybe it’s something new, but all I know is Gannon is now off limits.
Why in the hell would she give him my number?

“Well, here we are.” Ivy slams her car into park in front of her parents’ mansion.

“Nice,” I hear Gannon mumble from the backseat.

The atmosphere rapidly becomes quite uncomfortable in the small cab of the car, and it’s just like when I used to attend social functions with Ivy. I feel every ounce of my awkwardness pouring from me.

I fly from the car before either of them have a chance to stop me. “I’m going home to my mom’s. Just text me when you’re ready to leave.”

“Bay, my parents will want to see you.”

I’m halfway down the path to my house and just wave her off, feeling like a big giant ass. Her parents have been nothing but nice to me. I just don’t need any more reminders of how fucking different I am. Gannon is about to go on the grand tour at her house, and that’s exactly what I’d be feeling. Like the misfit–the odd one out–no matter how hard anyone would make me feel welcomed.

A long limb scratches my calf as I walk down the path and it instantly stops me.

“Fuck.”

A trail of blood dribbles down the side of my calf. It’s evident no one has been on this trail for a while. When Ivy and I first made it, there weren’t any houses between the back of my mom’s hippie playground and Ivy’s castle, but now there are several and our path has learned to weave and wind between them.

The scent of my mom’s place hits me. An overwhelming waft of patchouli mixed with cedar invades my senses and I know I’m home. The rusty old gate latch hangs from the fence. Mom never pays attention to small details. She’s always claimed that it adds character to her charming place. Most people would want such things in a functioning state … not my mom.

God bless her freakish heart and soul.

I roll my eyes as I enter the backyard. My mom was super cool growing up. I was raised in a free spirited way and pretty much made all my own choices. Now looking back on it, all I yearned for was just a bit of supervision and guidance.

Two buck naked bodies lie in sun chairs in the backyard. Again, something I’m extremely used to as it was a typical scene while growing up. Mom always told me it was good for me to be comfortable in my own skin and with others. I’m pretty sure her thought backfired.

I don’t think anything could surprise me at this point. My mom’s hollow face peeks up from the sun chair with a joint dangling from her lips.

“Basil May, you’re home.”

She pops up in an unsteady stance and rushes to me with her arms wide open, darting between her rock garden and colorful ornaments that adorn her yard. Her friend pokes her head up but goes straight back to tanning or meditating or whatever in the fuck they were doing.

Before I have the chance to snag her robe hanging from a hook on the porch, she has me wrapped up in her arms. The woman did squeeze me out of her vagina, so I guess I can stand a naked hug as an adult. I’m not sure what’s more disturbing: my mom’s naked leathered skin hugging me or me comparing it to me sliding out of her vagina.

“Basil.” She rattles me from my thoughts as she shakes my shoulders. “Move back. Come home. I miss you so much.”

Her lips pepper my cheeks in a rain of kisses, and I can’t help but smile. As odd and off the wall as my mom is, there’s one thing I’ll never doubt and that’s the love she holds for me in her heart. It’s pure and powerful and something I’ll never understand.

“Mom.” I pluck the robe from the hook and hand it to her. “You know I’m not coming back.”

“I know. I know,” she mutters as she ties the colorful lace of the robe around her tiny waist. “I just miss you, Basil.”

It was hard deciding what I really wanted to do and what path I’d pick. I knew I wasn’t going to be following in my mom’s footsteps or the ones Ivy’s paved out at the university. I knew it would be hard on my mom the day I left, but I had to do it for myself.

“Sit, I’ll go get you some lemonade.”

Plopping down in the neon green metal deck chair, my eyes take in all the wall decorations covering the backyard. It’s colorful, whacky, and my home. My soul settles a bit as I realize as crazy as it is, I’ve missed my home. I don’t flinch or feel nervous as I rock in the chair even though in the distance there’s a naked person sprawled out on a lawn chair.

Laughter hits me as I picture myself bringing Gannon over to my house for a tour and the look on his face as he soaks up every ounce of free spirit and will that lingers in my home. Then my thoughts go to Van, wondering about his reaction. No doubt, he’d have a cig dancing off his lips and would be sitting in silence.

“What’s so damn funny, Basil?”

“Oh nothing, Mom, just enjoying being home.”

I down the ice-cold lemonade and feel even more memories of my childhood flood in and hit me hard. It would be so easy to come back home and just paint and sell my work online. Hell, I could start a blog, online shop, and then just have no worries in the world. But there’s always been a tiny little hunger deep down in me to explore the world and do it on my own terms.

“Tell me about your new place.”

“It’s good, Mom, took a bit to get adjusted to, but I’m liking it.”

“Just liking it.” She raises an eyebrow at me. The woman knows how to read me to a T.

“I mean it’s different, but what wouldn’t be different from this.” I raise my hands above my head.