The Hunted (16 page)

“
G
o
, Bay. I’ll follow you.” His deep voice soothes my soul.

And even when I look back at him, he only comforts me. The officer who showed up the day Argo demanded to take me to headquarters showed up at work to speak with me. He was all business and the utmost professional.

I hovered at Van’s side while listening to the two men talk. He finally kissed the top of my head and released me, telling me he’d be there when I was finished with the detective. My nerves were on high alert the whole drive down to the station.

The blue bracelet and the limp body of the nameless victim float in my mind during the drive. I wait for the detective to make an inappropriate move or bad mouth Van, but it never comes. He’s all business on his phone making call after call or answering his phone.

My spine is finally able to relax a bit into the seat during the ride. Parts of the city I’ve never seen blur past my vision. The window is hot, but the air streaming from the vents cools me down immediately.

I want Van right now. No, I need him right now more than ever. I only picture his bright blue eyes and the swagger in his walk during the remainder of the ride until we pull up to a brick building.

“Is Argo Hollis in there?” I ask without hesitation because if he is, I won’t step foot in that building.

“No, Basil, he’s not.”

I turn to the detective who’s been nothing but polite and even saved me from Argo in the alley that night and more importantly, he saved Van from killing his brother. “Because if he is I’ll walk out the moment I see him.”

“He’s not and that’s why I’ve asked you to come down here.”

I fidget with the hem of my hoodie or rather Van’s hoodie that he put on me before I was escorted from work. His jaw was tight, clenched and ready to battle, but something held him back from reacting. Part of me wonders if he threw me out as bait or gained an ounce of self-control. Either way, I need answers and need them now.

“Just have a seat here.” He gestures to a chair nestled up to a small table. My nerves creep out entering the small room. When he goes to shut the door, dread crawls up my spine.

“Could you please leave that open?” I ask.

“Um, sure. Would you feel more comfortable with a female officer joining us?’

“No, just don’t shut that door please.” I fidget with my nervous fingers, trying to calm my nerves but the only sound thudding in my ear is my fast heartbeat.

“Okay.” He takes a seat across from me and introduces himself. I can’t comprehend one word that he speaks. His bright blond hair and stare hold my attention hostage.

“Would you like a drink or anything before we get started?”

“No,” I whisper.

“You’re not in trouble, Basil. I brought you down here to inform you that Argo Hollis has been put on leave and sent to a treatment facility.”

I cock my head to the side, digesting what he just spewed in my direction.

“It was wrong what he did to you in that alley. He seems to have a vengeance for his brother and hell bent on ruining him to the point of damaging his own career. After, I watched the dashcam video I was livid and gave him two choices.”

“What were they?”

“To resign or get help.”

“He chose to get help,” I say out loud in disbelief.

The officer nods his head and then eases some papers in my direction.

“I’m very upset about an innocent victim like you being in this mess. My department chief and I have drawn up a restraining order, forbidding Argo to be within one hundred yards of you.”

“Do you think that’s necessary?” I question.

“We do. Argo lives for the law and will follow these orders and come back healthy after treatment.”

“What about Van? Argo seems to be after him.”

“Ma’am, unfortunately my hands are tied on that subject. However, I was able to get you some protection.” He pauses, drawing a long gulp from his coffee mug. “Although, you won’t need it at all. It will be more of a peace of mind for you.”

He points to a line, has me sign my name and then tears off a copy of the restraining order. Before I go to stand, he sends a dagger right to my pumping heart. None of these seem legit, but what do I know. If Argo stays away from me and Van that’s all I care about.

“You might want to stay away from Van while you’re at it.”

“Why?” The question comes out so naturally that I don’t have time to think about the consequences.

“He’s quickly becoming a suspect in the murders.”

I’ve watched too many reality crime shows, read books, and my pure protective need over a loved one flares out of control. “You can’t share that information and Van has nothing to do with them. Maybe you should look into the pictures of a bloody victim and the blue bracelet that were in Argo’s squad car that day.”

His stone cold expression morphs into an astonished one with my retort. “Well, DNA doesn’t lie.”

His comeback oozes power and authority. I know he’s playing me and only fishing for more.

“And neither does a police department with a crooked cop in it. Ha, my ass.”

I don’t wait for his response before I’m out of the door and walking down the long hallway. The two glass doors in front of me cannot come fast enough. My pace quickens to a near jog getting to the damn things. I turn around, half expecting the officer to be on my heels.

A burst of cool air hits me when I push open the doors, and then I see Van. My knees go weak as I run into his arms and break down.

“What in the hell happened?” He rumbles into my hair.

Raw coursing emotion takes over every single part of me. Everything I want to believe is being twisted in front of me with the clear truth somewhere at the bottom of the murky pool.

Van tucks me under his arms and begins to guide me out into the sun and then to his car. He doesn’t ask any more questions but drives like a lunatic home. The tires squeal in protest when they’re pushed to their limits when each stoplight glows green.

Van smokes one cigarette after another, not stopping until he pulls up to our apartment building.

“Start talking or I’m going to go bust some fucking heads to see what just went down and Argo will be my first stop.” A malicious laugh stems from deep within his chest. “Bet Daddy would love a visit.”

“He wasn’t there.” Digging up enough courage, I twist in the seat to face him. “He was put on leave and sent to a treatment facility.”

“Bullshit.”

“They had me sign a restraining order against him to reassure my safety.”

“Let me see it, Bay. Cops just can’t whip that kind of shit out of their back pockets.”

“Shit, I left it on the table when I was racing out.”

His fingers dig deep into the sides of my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Why did they have you running out scared, Junior?”

“He started talking about you, and I didn’t like it at all.” Before he can ask another question, I stop him. “I know they’re all lies, Van.”

My lips find his, kissing him just hard enough to convince myself that trusting Van Hollis is a good idea.

O
ldies but goodies
stream out my speakers from my docking station and it’s the beat that only inspires happy thoughts and cuddly feelings. Primary and very bright colors fly from my hands as I toss them onto the four canvases lined up in the bathtub. Paint splatters and I just sing along with, “Nahhh, nah, nah, na, nah.” And throw more paint dancing away doing the mashed potato dance grinding with the song “Land of 1000 Dances.”

“Bay.”

It’s a baritone voice and a far more serious tone that suddenly captures me. I know it’s him. My man, right or wrong.

“In the bathroom,” I holler. I’m not sure when it all happened but my heart flutters while my fingers grow itchy tossing one more handful of paint onto the canvas. Then I pin up my last loose curl into a messy bun, not caring what color it gets painted.

“Holy Jesus on fire,” I mumble.

Van stands in the doorway with his white t-shirt sticky to his torso and his half lit cigarette dangling from his lips.

“Hard day at the office?” he quips, only grinning back at me with a smile that I know is up to no good. In one swoop he has my hips pinned back against the counter.

“Painting in your panties, I see?” Van’s eyebrow rises up in curiosity.

I only shrug, feeling nearly shy.

“Fucking sexy.” He moans into my ear, slipping the hem of my favorite painting tank above my head while his other hand flirts with my panty line. “You’re fucking art, Junior. My fucking art.”

His fingers slowly drag down my lacy panties, and I feel every inch of my skin burn down my legs. He doesn’t ask for permission to strip me naked before him, but he never has. It’s like Van Hollis has owned me since our eyes first met and whether it’s wrong or right … it’s happening.

I slide my hand down to his zipper, and my ears ring out in joy when I hear that zinging sound. The smell and feel of paint coat every nerve ending of mine while I free Van to take me. When I free his hungry need, I hear my dainty panties rip in the bathroom. It’s not the first time, and I can only hope it’s not the last.

The cheeks of my ass grind back onto the counter–the piercing pain is nothing compared to Van. He enters me with no warning. His teeth bite into the crook of my neck. The pain is intense, causing me to grasp my ankles even tighter around his ass while he drives into me.

“You’re my art, Junior.”

His words cause me to let go grinding harder and deeper into him with each of his thrusts. And each time I near the edge of glory. Part of me wants to hold back clutching to this moment forever and ever, but the greedy part of ecstasy comes out to play as I spill onto him. My hands grip the back of Van’s head pushing him deeper into my neck while I ride out my frenzied release.

My hips thrust back and forth onto him until exhaustion hits me, and that’s when he howls and picks up his pace, pinning both of my hands down behind me on the counter. He has me spread out before him taking everything from me, and I’m willingly the sacrificial lamb succumbing to its prey and enjoying every single second of it. When his teeth sink down into his bottom lip, I can’t help but smile at him. He pumps with vigor two more times before collapsing onto me.

It only takes Van a few seconds to catch his breath before I’m gathered up in his arms. Protective and mine are the only two words to describe them. He gently lays me in my bed and turns away.

“Van.”

He doesn’t answer me. He returns a few moments later, spreading my legs and wiping my sensitive parts with a warm washcloth. I fight to ask what in the hell is going on but being taken care of by my dark lover is beyond words.

“Just a kiss,” I whisper.

His lean torso covers my body, and then his lips meet mine.

“Not there,” I murmur back onto his lips, smiling widely.

Without any more prompting, he goes back to washing me but this time not with the cloth but his tongue. He licks and laps every single inch of me, turning me into a melting pile of goo. My hips buck up to meet each of his tender licks. I’m greedy taking all of him. I let out one final scream–riding his face until everything I have is gone, and I melt back into the mattress.

I’m not sure how much time passes before his breath tickles the nape of my neck and the rest of his body intertwines with mine.

“That was quite the kiss, mister.”

“Your painting does something to me.”

“You’re silly.” I try to tap his nose but he has me pinned down in his long lean limbs.

“Junior, I’m fucking serious. If anyone else walks in on you looking like that I’ll drop them.”

I chuckle at his protectiveness but chills also sprint up my spine knowing each word he speaks is true. He’s my protector and no way in fact a killer. The detective’s words have bounced around in my head the last few days and I know it’s not Van. I know that for sure.

“You’d probably stomp on a kitten if it looked at me wrong.”

“I’d fucking shred it,” he snaps.

My laughter vibrates off of his chest.

“Junior, I want to tell you something.” His grip on my flesh tightens. He’s holding on not to let go. I don’t say anything waiting for him to finish his sentence.

“You know I don’t like you waiting tables. So I put in your two weeks’ notice.”

This time when he pauses it’s my fingernails digging into his flesh. Van has no decision-making authority in my life.

“You’re pissed.”

It’s not even a question when it rolls off his lips, and I can only find myself nodding into the crook of his neck.

“I took your art piece into a gallery.”

I let go of everything. I let go of Van, reality, and even my fantasy flying up so fast into a sitting position covering my bare chest with a sheet.

“You what?” It’s a scream, and I’m not proud of it.

“I took that piece that was mostly dark with streaming light into a gallery. They want it, Junior, and they want you.”

I don’t respond this time. I’m a statue frozen in time with a thin layer covering my bare skin to the man who has owned my soul and ripped it from me.

“You don’t have to waitress or worry about the pole.”

“They like it?” I’m past the two-week notice thing and mortified about my art being placed in a gallery.

He shakes his head from side to side. “They loved it.”

“I haven’t been to school.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he replies.

“Did you slay kitties and fuck whores to get my painting in this gallery?” I ask not even being able to imagine what Van Hollis did to get this gallery to agree to wanting my painting.

He only shrugs and then finally lets a half smile cover his face. “I’m so proud of you, Junior.”

Van’s fingers delicately brush tendrils of hair from my face.

“Thank you.” I’m dumbfounded, intrigued, and blown away by all of this.

“Bay, it’s only blocks into the good part of the city. I’ll walk you there and pick you up. You can invite your damn friends to your work and be proud of it.”

“So, you’ve noticed me dodging all of Ivy’s texts and calls.”

“Jesus, that girl is like the Tasmanian Devil texting you. Now, you can meet her for lunch and do girly shit.”

My mind races with all the possibilities and where this may lead and for the first time in a really long time, a genuine smile dances on my lips. His body covers mine pinning me back onto the mattress. It’s in these moments, I fall captive again melting from my sitting stance.

“I’d fuck whores and slaughter kitties to show the world how much I fucking love you.”

I can’t help but smile at his fucked up declaration of love.

“Let the whores and kitties live in peace,” I whisper.

“Deal.”

“
V
an
.” I slam down the empty carton of milk, not able to wash away the vision of him chugging in his low riding boxers yesterday.

“Yo.” He rounds the corner with droplets of water running down his chest. I’ve never in my life been so fucking jealous of a bead of streaming water.

“I don’t want you to go to work if I can’t.” I try to pout and stomp my feet like a three year old but only come off pathetic when I toss the empty carton to the ground.

“Come here, baby.” His towel is dangerously loose on hips as he pulls me into him. “I’ll behave and you get a night home painting before your new job starts tomorrow.”

“I don’t want to.”

He bends over, leaving his lips on mine just a moment too long. “What, baby? Need hookers, poles, and music?”

“Stop.” I pull back far enough from him and slap his chest. “I want to be with you. Honey’s been weird and will probably attack you when I’m not there.”

“I like being attacked.” The slight show of crow’s feet framing the edge of his goofy grin distracts me.

“Van Hollis, I like being with you.”

“And, Junior, I like you not being in a strip joint.”

“I like being in a strip joint because my prince is there,” I counter.

“Too fucking bad.” Van nudges his hips up into my center.

“You just had me before your shower.” I giggle into the nape of his neck.

“Remember, I’m the fucking prince and get what I want.” His hips thrust up into me one more time doing all the talking that needs to be done on this matter.

“I’ll beat the shit out of Honey if she even looks at you.”

“Ahh, my tough little artist.”

“Van, I’m not kidding, I hate her.”

“Yeah, I know you do.”

“Last night she had bets going how long before you two would fuck after I leave.”

“I’m about to bend you over right now.”

“Van, dammit.” I try to push him off and slap his chest. “I’m serious, she’s going to rape you or at least try.”

“Bay, she’s so fucking strung out right now. I’m not sure what she’s got herself into. Guarantee her pussy is so foul nobody is touching that shit.”

“Real reassuring, dickhead.” I bounce up on the counter, distancing myself from him.

“Here let me feed you,” he taunts, turning his back to me to reach up for a box of cereal.

“Dry cereal since some hog drank all the milk?” I ask, throwing my hands on my hips.

“You can keep being a baby all you want, Junior, you’re not going tonight.” He taps the tip of my nose. “Stay home and paint me a picture.”

I stick my tongue out at him.