The Hunter: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance (Boston Belles Book 1)

Seven years ago

I raced through the thick of the woods, the moss and winter mud soft beneath my feet. My boots sank deeper into the muck with each step I took, and I fought against the weight of gravity, desperate to flee. Footsteps splashed fast and swift behind me. My heart smashed against my ribcage, like a prisoner shaking the bars. Let me out, it screamed.

It was a mistake—an awful, unfortunate mistake.

The dog wasn’t supposed to be there. The range had been completely empty before I drew the arrow, blindfolded and laughing.

And laughing.

And laughing.

And laughing.

The moment played in my head, over and over again. Fellow students asked if I could do it. I said I could. I knew I could. Someone wrapped their bandana over my eyes tightly. Then they put him there when I couldn’t see. Tied him to the target using ropes they stole from a nearby ranch. The helpless yelp was my first clue. The last breath he drew, crying as the arrow pinned him to the target. The blood across the bullseye. The chunks of his flesh. I ripped the bandana from my face, letting out a scream. All the others were laughing.

They called Lana. “Your dog,” they said. “She killed him.”

I ran faster when I thought about her face, her tears. I heard the sound of additional footsteps ricocheting through the tall trees. Boots. Splashes. Calls.

More people were coming.

My mother’s voice, shrill and panicked, echoed my name. “Sailor!”

I focused on the horizon, the tall pine trees and dark green wilderness. I had this idea in my head that my parents would stop loving me if they knew what I’d done.

My calves burned, my quads quivered, and tears blurred my vision. I stumbled over a thick log hidden by autumn leaves, flying to the ground, headfirst.

Mud filled my face, and my knees hit something hard. The hot, wet pain of a deep scrape and fresh blood sliced through my leg.

I coughed the dirt out of my mouth, but it clung to my tongue. My palms burned from trying—and failing—to soften the fall. Quickly, I gathered my limbs, the way you do scattered belongings, and stood up on shaky legs. I was about to turn around when I felt the tip of an arrow pressing against my spine. The person behind it, holding the bow and arrow, cornered me against an oak tree. My face was to the trunk. I was so scared I couldn’t breathe.

“He was my everything,” I heard her say, and my heart lurched and twisted, coiling into itself in dozens of knots that made it almost impossible for it to beat. Lana Alder had a small, jarring voice and a faint Swiss accent. “My uncle gave him to me when I moved here from Zurich. I didn’t know anyone. I didn’t speak the language. It was just Spot and me. He was my best friend. You took away my best friend. I have no one now.”

She dug the arrow into my back. Even if she released it from her bow, she still wouldn’t have enough momentum to kill me. But she could put me in a wheelchair. Mom and Dad had made me watch a lot of documentaries about archery and the danger of it before they let me practice.

And you went and let people blindfold you and killed a dog.

I wanted to choke on the cold, damp mud still in my mouth. It tasted salty, bitter, and ashen. It began to rain, but the woods were so thick with trees, I barely felt it on my skin. The scent of petrichor rose to my nostrils, and for the first time since I was born, I wished I were dead.

Mom’s voice called for me again. Dad’s, too.

“I’m sorry,” I finally managed to croak. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t see him. I was blindfolded. I had no idea. I didn’t… I couldn’t…”

What made things worse was I’d heard Lana had only agreed to come from New Mexico to camp in Massachusetts if she could bring Spot with her. That’s how much she wanted him here. They’d had to issue a bunch of permits for the mutt to walk around on the premises. I guessed whoever took care of him wasn’t paying enough attention.

My body felt stiff, like a salt statue, hard but easily dissolved. I was going to lurch and throw up the minute the shock subsided. My mother’s voice grew near. I knew she’d find me. We had this thing between us—one not all children had with their parents. It was a connection that felt like a part of me was still in her womb. We could sense each other from miles away. Every time Mom and I hugged, we called it recharging. We plastered our stomachs together in bed and said Bzzzz the way the phone did when you plugged it in. Then she’d tell me she was so glad I was her family, which was a beautiful thing to say, because it made me feel like she would have chosen me even if I weren’t hers.

Lana didn’t have a choice.

She didn’t have a mother, either. Her parents had died in a car accident, and her only relative in the world had agreed to take her reluctantly, because she came with a healthy sum of money and assets.

Lana lived with her uncle and his much younger girlfriend, the one Dad said had enough plastic surgery for three desperate housewives of Orange County.

Tears began to leak from my eyes. I never cried.

“I hate you,” Lana whispered softly into my ear. “I hate you, Sailor Brennan. I don’t even like archery all that much. I came here because my uncle wanted to take Miss Deidre on a vacation in the Cook Islands and thought it would be a good opportunity to throw me somewhere where other people could watch over me. But I promise you, now I will make it my mission to take what is yours.”

I thought about all the times she’d called me ugly this weekend, said my face put her in a bad mood. And I realized she didn’t think it was an accident. Nothing could make her believe it was. She thought I’d deliberately taken away the thing closest to her heart as a part of a game, and now I had to pay.

“You want to be an archer? I will become a better one. You get a pet? I’ll kill it. A boyfriend? I will steal him. Whatever you acquire in life, Sailor, I will take it from you. Because you took something from me.”

The arrow dug deeper into my back. I tried to twist and turn to get away from the pain, but it followed me everywhere. She pressed harder.

“Stop,” I croaked. “Please. I’m sorry. It was an accident. You’re hurting me.”

Lana didn’t deter. I felt the arrow piercing my skin, reaching my bone. I hated begging, hated lowering myself to asking for mercy. With a yelp, I turned around and pushed her with all my strength. I let out a feral growl that felt like it wasn’t even coming from me. She flew back, collapsing to the mud. I ran toward her, realizing I’d pushed her by the arrow.

I crouched down. “Lana? Oh my God. Are you okay?”

What have I done now?

She lay on the bed of yellow and orange leaves, blinking lethargically at the raining sky—the way I’d seen that boy from the castle do all those years ago—defying the rain, and the hail, and the wind. Standing up to the darkness.

The arrow was stuck in Lana’s stomach. A red stain began to form around it through her fleece jacket.

No. No. No.

“Never…forgive…you.”

Those were her last words before my parents found us.

Before she was rushed to the hospital.

Before Dad made the entire thing go away, making sure no one knew what happened—about dead Spot, about how Lana suffered a bowel injury called peritonitis, where some of the contents of her intestines spilled into her stomach and caused an infection she suffered from for weeks. She was bedridden, alone in the hospital, with her uncle only returning after he’d finished his vacation, during which he’d married his girlfriend.

I knew Lana would make good on her promise to get back at me.

I never adopted any pets.

Never had the courage to fall in love and get attached to boys.

And I bided my time until I knew I could win.

The day of my match with Lana, I came to the range an hour early, knowing she’d be practicing. I was right. I lurked under the roofed stands, watching her draw an arrow and send it spiraling to the inner red mark of the target. A clean kill. Lana was good, at least in all the places she wasn’t bad.

The four judges from the Olympic committee had already entered the club. Junsu and the staff were talking to them upstairs. Their bags were at the reception area. Before I went to the range, I asked Bill if he could go outside and see if there were any photographers. I promised I’d keep an eye on the bags. He agreed. As soon as he was out of sight, I planted what I needed in each of the judges’ suitcases. When he came back, I pressed a wet kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you for being a great friend.”

“Sure thing. Thank you for being the least scary warrior I’ve ever met.”

I smiled. I knew it was goodbye.

He didn’t.

I’d spent the night trying to figure out how I was going to use the information Hunter had given me about Junsu and Lana in a way that wouldn’t frame him, and I hadn’t slept a wink.

At the range, I made my way straight to Lana’s target. The ground was soft beneath my feet, but I knew better than to think the fall would be anything short of painful.

I stopped when my back was pressed against the target, standing in front of Lana, daring her to draw. We were alone out here. She could, if she wanted to.

Lana lowered her bow, her eyes narrowing into suspicious slits.

Wordlessly, I threw something between us. A simple bandana, offering her a rematch.

A smile tugged over her lips. The taunting kind.

“So sorry I had to sample your boyfriend. Not knowing what he tasted like was a mystery I couldn’t bear,” she purred sweetly.

Even though I believed Hunter, her words still hit me somewhere deep. I wanted to pounce on her and tear her limbs for even uttering his name. He was mine, even when he wasn’t.

I smiled back at her. I had a plan. “Take the bandana.”

“I can kill you, even blindfolded.”

“Please do. Was he good?” I asked, watching as she made her way to the bandana in the middle of the space between us.

“So you don’t know? You two haven’t spoken?”

I shook my head. She thought he’d kept her secret.

“He was great.” She flipped her shiny hair to one shoulder, still walking. “I might see him today for dinner after I’m done whooping your ass. We’ll see. The Patriots’ quarterback also wants a date. It’s hard being me.”

“I can imagine,” I said.

She picked up the bandana, went back to her spot, and tied it over her eyes. Raising her bow, she aimed at me. My heart was in my throat. I wanted to move away, to punch my own face for what I’d gotten myself into. Lana’s hands were steady, but her chest rose and fell quickly.

“You idiot. You know I’ll do it,” she muttered, seeing nothing behind the blindfold.

“Then do.” I swallowed. “Kill me like I killed Spot.”

“Don’t say his name,” she warned. “Don’t you dare.”

“It was an accident,” I repeated. “A terrible accident I’ve regretted every moment since that day.”

“I know!” she snapped, lowering her bow momentarily, stomping. “It wasn’t just about Spot, you idiot. It was about everything. You had parents and a family and talent and security. And you were easy prey. So insecure and apologetic and…and…” She waved her hand in my direction. “You.”

She raised her bow again, huffing, “Now stand still.”

I did. Sweat dripped down my spine under my sweater, and I felt my legs shaking. I wanted to throw up. She drew the arrow again. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.

Do it. Get it out of your system before it is my turn to hurt you back.

“Drop out of the match, and I won’t kill you,” came her voice.

My eyes popped open.

“That’s a big request,” I said hoarsely.

“You are my target,” she pointed out.

“Because I put myself here willingly,” I argued. “Will all be forgiven and forgotten if I step down and don’t show up in half an hour?”

She didn’t know I was wired under my sweater.

That she was being recorded.

“Yes,” she said grimly. “But you need to tell them now.”

“Okay,” I whispered.

“Okay.” She lowered her bow again, removing the blindfold and discarding it on the ground. Her eyes, dead and flat, scanned me.

“Just so you know…” Her throaty voice wrapped around my neck. “Hunter was everything the media said he was, and more. I had a lot of fun stealing your boyfriend. I wish we could continue this. I’d have loved to torture you for a lifetime.”

I stepped away, knowing now how deep and delusional her lie was. “I know.”

I turned around to find Junsu in the shadows, under the roofed seats, scowling. I brushed past him, not stopping when he whispered my name.

He used to shout it before. Now, he was scared.

He knew.

Junsu was at my heels. Now that I’d decided not to compete, he pretended to be invested. Devastated, even. He spoke, but none of the things he said registered. I unlocked my car, stuffing my bag into the passenger seat.

Junsu grabbed my shoulder and spun me so I faced him, his expression etched with fury.

“What was that?” he demanded.

“I’m guessing that’s a rhetorical question.” I brushed off his touch.

That was it. I’d lost. My Olympic dream officially went down the drain. Hell, I’d flushed it myself. Somewhere in the back of my head, panic had begun to set in. I knew it was the last time I’d set foot in this club. After everything that happened—everything that was about to happen—I couldn’t come back and practice here. Not professionally, and not as a hobby. I imagined I’d find a new place, or maybe go to the woods or to the farmhouse my parents had outside of Boston. I would still practice, but not professionally.

It was time to find out who I was.

What I was good at, what I stood for.

It was time to get out of my shell and live. And it’s frightening.

“You didn’t even try. You quit.” He motioned his arm toward the club.

“So?” I shrugged. “My career. My dream. My prerogative.”

“My reputation,” he countered, shoving a finger to his chest. “You could lose by few points. Now I look incompetent.”

“Ah.” I smiled. “Cat’s out of the bag now. So you did want me to lose, just not by much.”

Junsu’s face fell. “What? No! I…”

I leaned forward, brushing my lip over his nose purposefully. I felt goosebumps rise on his skin. We’d never been this close physically. “I know what you did, Junsu. You and Lana. I know about your deal. Lana came clean to Hunter when she tried to seduce him in your office. You did this to yourself. Now I have a witness, and a three-page letter I left with each of the four judges on the committee. They’re going to find them shortly, if they haven’t already. An identical letter was sent to the United States’ Olympic and Paralympic Committees. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m on my way to the police station. Hunter Fitzpatrick, AKA the boy, already gave them his official statement, as per my request.”

I bowed, the way he’d taught me when he started training me, mocking the sign of respect he’d insisted we give each other.

“No!” Junsu barked desperately, tugging at my hand.

I lunged into the driver’s seat, locking the doors automatically before he got to me. He pounded his palms over the window, his voice muffled by the glass between us.

“She had money! I needed to pay for my son’s college.”

I started the car, feeling tears stinging my eyes. I didn’t dare let them loose.

“Sailor! You ruin my career if you do that! My family! My reputation!”

I backed out of the parking lot, blazing down the street I’d driven every day. It held memories, a piece of my heart, and a broken dream I now left behind.

I knew I wouldn’t be able to set foot on it afterwards.

By nighttime, the details about Junsu and Lana were plastered all over the news. I got calls asking if I wanted to retake a match with someone else, considering Lana was not going anywhere near the Olympics anytime soon after what she’d done. I declined. The Olympic spot went to a thirty-three-year-old mother of four from rural Indiana by default. Her stats were crazy.

Mom, Dad, and Sam gathered in the living room around me while we watched her interview. Their hands were on my back, shoulders, and arms.

I was safe with my family. I was home.