16

HUNTER

T he strangest thing happened today—I called Jamie and told him I’m flying back to New York, and he told me not to bother, and that he’s on his way here.

Jamie knew that the mayor was involved, but because of the fucking politics of the agency, he decided to keep his mouth shut. Then he treated me as if I was just some hired gun, not his fucking brother. He blamed me for going full Rambo, like I got off on putting bullets in monsters.

Maybe I did.

If I could go back, would I change it? Hell no. I’d do it better. I wouldn’t just kill them—I’d drag every one of those bastards out by the throat and bury them alive in that goddamn hole behind the cabin. Fast deaths were a mercy that they didn’t earn. What I gave them wasn’t justice. It was restraint. A performance.

And yeah—it was fun.

But instead of standing beside me—instead of being my brother—Jamie worried about his job. His badge. His clean fucking record. While I was out there stopping what they were planning to Penelope, he was in some office weighing PR fallout.

A job.

He picked a fucking job over family.

I knew then, that I didn’t know him at all, or want to know him. Our Russian family are all dead and we’re the only family we have here in America. We only have each other.

I take a deep breath, pretending that I’m dragging on a cigarette before figuring out what to do before I pick Jamie from the airport. I have two hours. Nope, I don’t have two hours, because I just received a message saying that he’s coming here.

I chuckle, at the idea of letting him meet me in the diner that Penelope works. He says that he will be here in just over an hour.

Strange.

He must be on the road then, because how comes he is going to meet me here?

I shrug, I suppose, I’ll find out all the answers once he gets here.

I glance at my phone—one hour. I’ve gone one hour without checking I on her. I deserve a fucking medal. I wish Noah was here to witness it. That’s a goddamn record. My fingers twitch like an addict coming down, like I need a hit of her just to breathe right. I need a distraction. A job. A target. Something.

It has been two days since he left, and yet it feels a lot longer. He did text to say that he arrived there safely then after that nothing. I’m tired of acting like some love sick teen not knowing whether it is the right time to call or not, so I dial his number. Well, not exactly his number, but another burner phone which is in his possession.

“Ruslan. I wondered how long it would take you to call me.”

Am I that predictable?

“Just checking to see how you’re doing,” I lie as I pace the room. It’s the first and only time I’ve realized how lonely I am. I wouldn’t be if my addiction was by my side. I would make sure I take care of her every need.

“Well, at least if you’re not out there stalking her, unless you’re doing that and calling me at the same time?”

If only he knew, and this is my cue to change the subject.

“Anyway, how is the bride-to-be?” I ask.

“Frank!” He blurts out.

Yes, I know your secret.

“Why didn’t you tell me Noah? What’s the big secret?” I ask.

Am I unapproachable? Sure, to the predators and sick fucks, but to the guy whom I’ve raised as my own son, I thought we were better than that. Yet, there’s a wave of jealousy in the air since I discovered Frank knew all about Noah’s trip and not me.

I hear a door close, silence on the other side, as if he’s moving around, probably not wanting Molly to hear our conversation.

“I didn’t know how you would handle it Ruslan. In fact I was scared to tell you.”

I rub my brows together, annoyed at myself for giving him the impression that I would want him to be as lonely and fucked up like me. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Especially someone I care about, and I do care about him, I’m just not the type to express my feelings. Never have done, and I can tell this is one of those moments when I need to break the rule and do it.

“I’m happy for you. Happy for her. That’s all I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy. You’re growing up kid, you’re not a kid anymore…”

Okay now I’m going over the top. I’m saying things I’ve heard them say in the movies, but it sounds weird coming out of my mouth. “She is one lucky girl. I want to meet her one day.”

“Really?” I can hear the joy in his voice. “Well, when we’re done here and I’ve popped the question, if it all goes well then I can bring her to meet you.”

Like a son bringing his fiancée to meet his dad. Noah says he wants to introduce us— before she goes home to break the news to her family.

“Have you met her folks?” I ask.

He clears his throat, meaning I already know the answer to that question. My heart sinks knowing they’ve met him, before I met her.

Noah why are you doing this to me?

Then again, I don’t blame him. I know he was hurt badly when he found out about Jamie, and I should have told him sooner. It’s good that he confided in Frank. I couldn’t have done badly raising him if he didn’t know who he could and couldn’t trust.

“A couple of times. They’re nice. Folks. I assume you did some digging yourself.”

“I couldn’t help myself,” I confess.

“Yeah. She can’t wait to meet you. I talk about you all the time. In fact she thinks that you’re my dad.”

Now, he’s going to get me crying if he carries on like this.

“You are the son I never had. So, as soon as you’re done on your trip and she said yes, then we can celebrate together,” I say, feeling a lot more upbeat than I did before.

“Sounds like a plan Hunter.”

Now, he really does want to make me cry. He’s back to calling me Hunter again. Shit, but he’s bringing her here then it will have to be dad, if we’re going to keep up our lie.

“Right. So you better get going and let me know the dates,”I say. Thinking that it is time to hang up, because Penelope is nearly finishing her shift, and I want to make sure that she gets home safely.

I need to make this hideout look a bit more family orientated.Then again, Noah has put up some photos of us together. Like the one we took when I rescued him, but he did some Photoshop to make it look like he was in a baseball game. It would have been at an actual game, if he could pitch. Sports has never been his forte, and Lord knows that I tried hard to get him into every type of sport even golf. The only thing he has and ever will be good at is technology . He found his niche in life and he likes it. Now, he’s in love with her, Molly and wants her to be his wife. We need to figure out what this all means for us. Or rather what it means for me.

“I’ll show you the ring if you like. I’ll send a picture.”

Noah’s getting soft. The whole sharing is caring mindset is sinking into his bones, and I can see it happening. He doesn’t say it outright, but I know what this is, it’s his way of stepping into a new life, and maybe, in some twisted way, he’s trying to pull me out of mine.

What he doesn’t know is this: it’s not just a new beginning for him. It’s the end of something for me.

Our time in the field—that reckless, code-wired, gun-smoke-drenched life—it’s done. No more disappearing into shitty apartments, no more burner phones and bloodstained motel rooms. He’s getting married. And sooner or later, there’ll be a couple of mini-Noahs running around with his stubbornness and sharp eyes. I won’t let them grow up with a target on their backs because of me. I won’t be the reason a kid hears a knock at the door and never sees their father again.

Life’s too short to be selfish.

And far too long to survive the guilt.

We had a good run. But now, it’s over.

I remember the day he handed me his high school diploma like it was a badge, eyes full of this na?ve pride. He told me that we could finally work together. I laughed in his face, and told him to get a life. Cold? Maybe. But it was the only thing I could say, because deep down, I knew what this world does to people like him—the ones who still believe in something.

I’d watched over him for years. Not because I planned to bring him into this mess, but because I couldn’t forget the way he looked at me that night I pulled him out. The kid with bruised skin and hollow eyes—I never forgot him. So I stayed close, and played the part of some distant, half-remembered relative. His foster parents never pushed. I think that they knew the truth, and so did Noah. But they let it slide. Maybe because they saw something in me that I refused to admit—that he needed me, and I needed him.

The day he said, “I wanna do what you do,” something in me cracked. I’d failed him before I even agreed.

I told him no, more than once, but Noah never walked away from a locked door—he picked the lock and kicked it in. The day he hacked my phone just to send the words you need me, I knew I was done fighting it. He was right, I did need him.

The guy I was working with at the time was a deadweight, and he couldn’t track a threat if it had flashing lights and a fucking name tag. Noah, though… he didn’t just want to sit behind a screen. He wanted in, and I let him in.

Now, here we are, but the chapter is coming to a close.

“I’ll love that,” I say, my voice softer than I’m used to hearing it.

And maybe it hits harder because I know it’s the last time I’ll hear it like that.

When Mom died, I shed a tear. Just one. I didn’t think there was another one left in me. But now, this—this slow goodbye to the only person who’s ever really known me—this one doesn’t stop.

I won’t be with Noah anymore, because everything is about to change.

“Later,” I mutter, and hang up before he says another word. I can’t hear his voice right now. I can’t let him say something that might make me want him to stay.

The world spins on. The predators are still out there. But they’ll have to be someone else’s problem now. Maybe I should take a page out of Frank’s book and vanish. Retire. Let the fire burn itself out before it consumes me completely.

But something’s shifting inside me. Something I can’t name. It’s darker than rage. Colder than hate.

I tell myself I’m watching her for her own good, to keep her safe. But that’s bullshit. I watch because I can’t stop.

If I don’t let her go, if I don’t set her free… she’ll get me killed.

And maybe I won’t even fight it.

Because obsession like this?

It doesn’t end in silence.

It ends in blood.