Moments of Malevolence (The Hunters Book 1)

MY PHONE PINGS, Sage’s phone. When I check it, there’s a picture of Zuko’s hand holding a belt.

Now, I’m not one who is usually attracted to certain body parts—I mean, the abs, face, and cock are nice, as well as the ass. But hands, I haven’t really thought that much of before. I stare down at the photograph as I sit in the back room of the bar. The night’s done, and now every time I walk past the women’s restroom, I can’t help but smile a little bit.

“What has you smiling?” Louise asks as she sits across from me and puts her feet up on the desk.

“Do you think hands are attractive?” I ask.

“Um… Weird question, but hell, yes. Especially if they’re muscly and a few veins pop. Add some plain jewelry, and boom! I’m a sucker.” She throws a Skittle into her mouth. “Why?”

I bring the photograph up and show it to her.

“Shit, those are some good hands. Imagine them roaming all over your body as they pick you up by your ass and grip it tight.”

I check the phone. That’s exactly what those hands have done to me. And it did feel fucking amazing. “You look tired. Everything all good?” Louise asks.

“I haven’t been sleeping much this week,” I tell her honestly.

“Why?”

“Nightmares,” I whisper, keeping my head bowed. They don’t happen often, but when they do, they come in full force. And it’s impossible for me to want to sleep, let alone stay asleep. I thank my second foster home for that wonderful addition to my life.

“Damn, that sucks. Do you take anything for them?”

“Nope.” I stand, sliding my phone into my shorts as I get my jacket out of my locker and slide it on before I change out of these boots into some flats. It’s early morning now—three a.m.—and I am dead-ass tired. But I know I won’t sleep, no matter how hard I try.

“What about drinking? We can drink for what’s left of the night, and hopefully, that will knock you out,” she offers as I head to the back door. She follows, gripping her bag in her hand.

“I don’t know, I just—”

“Alaska,” Louise interrupts. “I think someone is here for you.” I look to where her finger is pointing and see Zuko leaning against my car. The very same car he bought me. I thought after that night I ran out on him I would never see that car again, yet here it sits.

“Do you want me to stay?” she asks.

I shake my head as I stare at him. He’s dressed in all black—his usual attire—as he waits for me.

“Those hands. Now all I’ll be thinking about is those hands,” she whispers.

I stifle a laugh and watch as she walks to her car, giving Zuko a small wave as she gets in. He doesn’t acknowledge her, just simply stares at me.

My shoes crunch lightly against the concrete with each step I take to reach him. When I’m standing in front of him, I stop and look at the car.

“You brought me my car,” I say, smiling and tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.

“I don’t have your phone number or address, so I figured it was best I return it myself.”

“It’s still mine?” I ask, confused.

“Yes,” he replies without hesitation. I hold out my hand for the keys, and he glances at it. “I want your number. And I want to see you more,” he declares.

“See me more?” It’s been a week since I last saw him. I like that he isn’t needy, but when he wants something, he takes it. Me included. I can’t help but stifle a yawn and quickly cover my mouth.

“Are you tired?”

I raise a brow at him. “Of course I am. I just finished a shift on my feet for eight hours straight.” He seems to think about my words before he opens the passenger door and indicates for me to get in. “Where are we going?”

“To my place. You need rest.” I look at the car and back at him. “I can’t sleep,” I tell him.

“You can and you will.”

“You just want to fuck me again,” I say, getting in the car.

“Oh, make no mistake about it, I very much do.” He shuts the door and walks around to the driver’s side. I watch him as he starts the car and pulls out onto the road. “I will fuck you again. But when you are not a walking zombie.”

“I don’t sleep well,” I admit. Fuck, I blame the lack of sleep on my recent path of honesty—first Louise, now him.

“What helps you sleep?” he asks.

As he pulls onto the highway, I don’t even bother checking where we’re going. I just turn my body and stare at him—trust me when I say it’s a better sight.

“I haven’t really figured that part out yet. It’s taking me a bit,” I share with a shrug.

“I don’t understand.”

“Some nights I sleep fine, some nights I won’t. It’s just a matter of when my brain decides it wants to fuck me over, really.” His fingers tap on the steering wheel, and I can’t help but study them. He has a plain black ring on his right ring finger.

The car seems to go completely silent before his eyes shift my way.

“I slept great that night after you fucked me,” I add with a smirk, but he doesn’t give the reaction I thought he would. No wide eyes at my words. They just don’t seem to shock him as much as they do other people. Even other men, when I randomly blurt stuff out, are usually shocked. Zuko, not so much. He looks at me like he is trying to piece me together.

You and me both, mister.

“Do you want me to fuck you again?” he asks.

“I’m not sure I would be much fun. Plus, that would require touching and as you already know, I hate being touched.” I yawn again as we pull up to a one-story house. The outside is dark, so I can’t really see all that much, but I can tell the lawn is well-manicured, and in the driveway sits a very nice, expensive car.

Without saying anything he gets out and strides around to my door. Pulling it open, he offers me his hand, and I take it, coming to a complete stand in front of him. He pushes the door shut behind me, then squeezes my hand and leads me to his front door. I wonder what he’s thinking but get distracted. This guy is a bag of contradictions. Expensive clothes, flashy cars, the way he lets me—technically a stranger—take and use his credit card. But his home isn’t as big or as fancy as I thought it would be. The door is an average white color with nothing special about it. Not even a fancy door knocker or bell.

When he steps inside, he flicks on a light. I’m not really sure what I expected to see when I walked in, but the fact that his home is plain really appeals to me. Sure it could do with a couple of personal touches. There isn’t anything personal anywhere. But I like the simplicity of the black couches, television hanging on the wall, and a kitchen behind the main living room.

He throws the keys onto the kitchen island as he tugs me to the back glass door, which he slides open. Stepping outside, I notice a small pool with a few lounge chairs scattered around it and some fairy lights. He walks us to the edge of the pool, drops my hand, then presses a button that turns on a small water feature at the other end.

“I didn’t bring my swimsuit,” I tease.

“That’s fine. You won’t need one,” he says, stepping back inside. I’m left standing outside in his landscaped garden. Once more, a contradiction to the impersonal interior. Outside holds a touch of warmth I find curious. A slight breeze rustles through the tall trees and fronds in the garden, adding a musical accompaniment to the nocturnal insects enjoying the garden as much as I am. Zuko reappears with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

“Are you being romantic right now?” I ask, brows raised. “You fuck me with a knife, and now it’s all ‘hey, let’s have wine.’” He sits on one of the lounge chairs and pulls the other over so they’re right next to each other, creating one large seat.

“Technically, I haven’t fucked you tonight or this morning. So, no… Sit down and have a drink and see if it helps.”

I roll my eyes as I sit next to him. After kicking off my shoes, I tuck my feet under my ass and take the glass he has poured for me.

“You haven’t put drugs in here, have you?” I ask him before I take a sip.

“Why would you ask that and then proceed to drink it?” He’s clearly baffled by my question and subsequent action.

“Hey, a girl has to sleep,” I say, drinking the whole glass and giving it back to him. He takes and refills it as I lie back and stare at the sky.

“What are your nightmares about?”

“I never told you I had nightmares.” I turn to look at him.

“You didn’t have to,” he replies gently.

“Tell me something about you I don’t know, and I might tell you about me.” I take the glass from his hand and glance back to the sky.

“I enjoy killing.”

I blink, then blink again. Did he? Turning ever so slowly, I fix my gaze on his, unable to speak. “You know who I am. Do you really think the rumors aren’t true?”

“I…” My pause causes him to raise an eyebrow and stare at me with disbelief in his eyes.

“You knew. You just didn’t believe. Or didn’t want to believe.”

“What do you enjoy about it?” I ask him because I want to know why, why do any of us take the paths that are put in front of us. Me, working two jobs because I have a fear of running out of money, or the fact I can’t stand to be touched, and then there is him.

I don’t know what is more worrying. That I’m lying next to a man that just admitted he likes killing, or the fact that I’m not as bothered by it as I should be.

“It’s not something a normal person would enjoy… I get it. But it’s something I am good at. The best, even. And I’m relied upon heavily in this business. I am that last resort, the one people use when there is nowhere to turn. Well, myself and my brothers. If no one else can complete the hit, they hire us. And we always accomplish the task. There is no such thing as a failure rate for us.”

“Should you be telling me this stuff? I mean… it’s not like you go around sharing with people what you do, right?”

“No, I don’t talk to people at all. Unless it’s my brothers.”

“Must be nice to have that constant support,” I add in a small voice.

“You have no family?” he asks.

“Nope, just me.”

“Why are you having nightmares?”

“Just your everyday nightmares. Foster child shit. You know…going from home to home with no one really loving you.”

“Lies,” he says.

I huff out a sigh and decide if he can be honest with me, then I should do the same. “Okay fine. I watched one of my foster fathers beat my foster mother to within an inch of her life and then proceed to do the same with their son. That shit still fucks me up.”

“Did he hurt you?” Zuko asks.

“I hid. He called out for me for what felt like hours, and I was terrified. I hid in the kitchen, watching the blood from his wife soak the floor. Her eyes were wide open, and blood ran in rivers everywhere.”

“What happened to him?”

“When he didn’t find me, he took a gun and shot himself in the head. Which, when you think about it, is selfish considering what he did to them.” Glancing at Zuko, his eyes are firmly attached to mine.

“What?” I ask.

“I can see where you get your attitude from. Having to care for yourself your whole life…” He adds, “It either breaks us or makes us.”

“And what did it do to you?”

“Oh, I’m all kinds of fucking broken. Not even God himself could put me back together.” He winks.

Fuck.

He winked.

Panties, meet the floor.

“I think we’re all a little broken. Some simply hide it better.” I lift the glass to my lips and finish off the wine before I place it next to me. “The real question is…how do we put ourselves back together?”

“If you figure it out, don’t let me know. I prefer myself the way I am.”

I smile at his answer. How many people do you meet that are as fucked-up as him and can be that honest? Hell, actually, they all probably do, as they don’t see anything wrong with themselves. I guess that’s a better way to look at the way you are rather than trying to psychoanalyze yourself every day as to why you do certain things. I admire his honesty.

“I’m taking my car soon and going home,” I announce.

“How have you been getting to work?” he asks.

“I either drive my old car, or Louise takes me.”

He hands me the keys without another word and pulls me over to him.