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  Hunter

  The Hastings Series

  Vanessa Siena

  Hunter

  Copyright © 2019 by Vanessa Siena.

  All rights reserved.

  First Print Edition: January 2020

  Limitless Publishing, LLC

  Kailua, HI 96734

  www.limitlesspublishing.com

  Formatting: Limitless Publishing

  ISBN-13: 978-1-64034-800-4

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  For Katy, who inspired me to write this book with her love for crime and bad boys.

  Table Of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter One

  Harlow

  Going to a community college was never a dream of mine. I’ve always wanted to go to Yale or Harvard. A good college. An expensive one. But my dreams were crushed when I was just twelve, and my brother, Jagger, packed all of our stuff and moved us to a city no one has ever heard of before. Hastings, Nebraska. The city itself isn’t that bad. It’s small and has enough stores to keep us alive. I don’t even mind all the rain. The sun comes out only about twice a month, but it gives the city a nice, dark but cozy touch. Hastings College isn’t the best. Though the teachers give us enough attention and help so we can pass with good grades, the food there is disgusting. Luckily, I have a job waiting tables at a small diner, so I can earn money to buy lunch from the store. I only just started college last summer. Jagger wants me to go. He wants me to get a better life after I graduate. But I doubt I will leave him here all alone. He made some friends here. Most of them are criminals. Well, at least that’s what I think they are. He doesn’t talk to me about them very often, but I saw them hang out by the river one night and they didn’t really seem nice. They were smoking, which isn’t that big of a deal. But the thing that threw me off was the gun lying there next to one of the guys on the broken-down wall. After staring at it, Jagger told me to go home and not wait for him. He’s twenty-six, which makes him an adult. I thought dealing with my own business was best for me.

  Jagger and I live in a small house. It’s a quiet neighborhood. Some of the houses around us are empty. Since we moved here, we didn’t see any new people or families come around to even visit them. I’ve heard people at the diner saying that our neighborhood wasn’t safe. But for me it was, and nothing has ever happened before.

  We both went through hell, Jagger more than me. Our father was abusive and hit him when he was drunk or came home late from work all pissed and moody. Jagger was only a teen then, but he took all the shit my father gave him. He knew if he hit him back, bad things would happen. Most times I just sat in my room and hoped for better times. Jagger comforted me, telling me that one day he would take me away from that life. He promised to take care of me, always.

  Since he kept his promise, I decided to just keep out of his stuff and let him do what he does. Even if I knew he wasn’t always being good. He tried to hide his bloody nose multiple times. And a busted lip or black eye doesn’t go away overnight. I still didn’t try to find out what happened. If he wanted to tell me, he would.

  Walking home from the diner I worked at was one of my favorite parts of the day. Plugging in my headphones and listening to good music while walking the long way back to my house was relaxing and my thoughts wouldn’t be stuck on studying or work.

  I always pass the same stores and houses. I didn’t think about getting a car. Not with the little amount of money I earned from work. I don’t have my license, but I don’t need it right now. Walking is healthy, and if I needed to buy groceries, Jagger would drive me. His car is old. An old pick-up truck he found at a scrapyard. He worked hours on it to make it run again. He did a good job because not once has the truck broken down in ten years.

  I was walking down the sidewalk when I realized a car was slowing down next to me. I turned my head to look through the passenger window, recognizing a face I wish wasn’t on my mind most of the time. Hunter.

  He rolled down the window and let the car come to a stop. He reached over and opened the passenger door from the inside. “Get in.”

  He was bossy. He came to our house a lot. Jagger and he were very close…almost like brothers. And if it’s one guy I could trust other than my brother, it’s Hunter. At least, that’s what Jagger always told me.

  I pulled out my headphones and wrapped them around my phone before pushing it into my bag. Opening the door wider, I climbed in, and before I could even close the door, he drove off. I quickly put my seatbelt on.

  “Are you meeting Jagger?” I asked, looking over at him. He had a black hoodie on with the hood over his full head of hair.

  “You shouldn’t walk home alone when it’s dark out.” He ignored my question and I rolled my eyes.

  “I do it all the time. I’m not a kid anymore, Hunter.”

  He glared over at me, his normally bright green eyes all dark. “I hate to say this, but your brother really should tell you more about what goes on in the city. It’s dangerous. And you’re a girl.”

  I raise an eyebrow at his choice of words and cross my arms. “I can defend myself. I know how to use my hands and feet to hurt people and I also have pepper spray in my bag. But thanks for your concern.”

  Looks like I shut him up because he just stared straight ahead. He looked angry, though. But that’s nothing new. Hunter is always angry. He’s either letting out rude things or he just stares at you with emotionless eyes until you feel so uncomfortable that you start wondering if you did something wrong.

  I got used to his staring and anger. But most of the times it just throws me off. He’s unpredictable and c
an be an asshole.

  The drive to my house was short, and when I opened the door to step out, he did the same. Oh, so he is meeting Jagger.

  I took my bag out of the car and closed the door just as Hunter stepped around the car to stand by my side and grab my wrists. I looked down at his hand holding me a bit too tight, then up to his face.

  “I don’t need you to talk back to me. If I say it’s not safe, then I mean it. I’ll talk to Jagger.” His voice was low and hoarse, and his eyes held mine in place. I nodded. Because I didn’t want to make him even more angry or annoyed.

  His face relaxed and I think he was surprised by my quick response. He loosened the grip around my wrist and nodded toward the house.

  “Go. Jagger will be here soon.”

  I nodded once again, wondering how this incredibly mysterious guy had such a deep impact in my life and how much I just obeyed him.

  I turned and walked up to the door, pulling out my key to unlock it. Before stepping inside, I glanced back at him. He stood there, leaning against his car, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. All while staring right back at me.

  Oh, Hunter. How I wish I could just look right inside your mind the way you look inside of mine.

  Chapter Two

  Harlow

  Sitting on the couch with the TV on and watching Hunter wait for Jagger outside made me think about all the times he came over. They always talked in our small living room. I never actually heard any of what they were talking about because they kept their voices down, and the second I passed them to get to the kitchen, they looked up at me and stopped talking. As soon as I went back to my room, they went on with their conversation.

  They keep their secrets, and I hate to admit that I want to know all of what is going on in their lives. It’s not like I don’t exist. I see their worried expressions and the looks they give me, secretly hoping I won’t ask any questions.

  Hunter was still standing there, leaning against his car. He’s on his third cigarette now. Finally, Jagger arrived and parked his truck behind Hunter’s. He got out and walked over to him, holding out his fist to Hunter to give a quick fist bump. Jagger said something to him, looked toward the house, and nodded. Then they started walking up to the front door.

  I turned my head back to the television and pulled my knees up to my chest.

  The door opened and they walked in. “I’m home, Low,” Jagger said, walking up to me and bending down to kiss the top of my head.

  I smiled, turning to look up at him. “How was your day?” I asked, knowing he’d worked his ass off again.

  “Good. Did you have dinner already? There should be some leftovers in the fridge. Hunter will stay here for the night.” Jagger walked over to the kitchen, opening the fridge and taking out two beers.

  “He what?” I asked, surprised, looking over at Hunter. He sat down on the armchair, leaning back and taking a beer from Jagger.

  “Just for the night. He has a gas leak at his place. And we got some stuff to talk about.”

  “Oh.” I looked over at Hunter, who was taking a sip of his beer. His eyes were trained on me. I got up and walked to the kitchen.

  “I’ll make dinner.” Telling him no was never an option. Never even thought about it. Jagger gave his whole life and time to me. Always. And I said thank you by agreeing with him and obeying.

  Standing in front of the fridge, I opened it and looked inside. Some leftover potato salad and spaghetti with meatballs would be our dinner tonight.

  As I heated up dinner, Jagger and Hunter weren’t talking. It’s almost like they wanted me to know that I have no right to listen to their conversation. They just drank their beers and watched football.

  “Low?” I heard Jagger say. I turned my head to look at him and smiled. “Yes?”

  “Do you mind starting without me? Something came up,” he said and stood up from the couch, shoving his phone into his pocket.

  I looked over at Hunter, who was still looking at the TV. Eat dinner alone with him? Oh, boy.

  I looked back over to Jagger and nodded. “Sure.”

  He took three steps, kissed my forehead, and smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back in an hour.” Then he was gone and he left me standing there by the table, not sure about what to say to Hunter.

  “Dinner is ready,” I finally said. I put the salad into two separate bowls and brought one of them with a full plate of spaghetti over to the living room. I stopped in front of Hunter and held the dishes out for him to take.

  “Thanks,” was the only thing he said before putting the spaghetti down on the coffee table and starting to eat the salad.

  I didn’t move for a moment. I just watched him and wondered why I was expecting more from him. More than just a thanks.

  “You okay?” he asked, looking up at me with an annoyed expression on his face.

  I quickly nodded, turned on my heels, and walked back to the kitchen to grab my food. I sat down on the couch and started eating.

  “Is Jagger in trouble?” Not sure why I asked that. Probably because for once I had the chance to make sure he wasn’t going to get hurt.

  “Not your business.” His eyes were on the football game and every muscle in his jaw moved while chewing. Could eating look sexy?

  “Well, he’s my brother. And I would like to know when he’s in trouble or when he could get hurt,” I said, hoping he would understand my worries.

  “He’s doing his job.”

  Didn’t seem like he was up for a conversation. I sighed and leaned back, taking my bowl up to my chin so I wouldn’t spill any of the salad on me.

  Doing his job. The job I know of is working at the mechanic’s, screwing around on some cars and changing the oil and all that. I was hoping someday Jagger would tell me about his other job.

  I puckered up my lips and thought of a question I’ve always wanted to have answered. “Does he take drugs?”

  Suddenly, Hunter burst out laughing. I frowned. That was a normal question. Right?

  He kept laughing. The wrinkles at the corner of his eyes and the dimple in his left cheek showed me just how funny that question was.

  “What?” I asked.

  “You’re funny. And that’s a stupid question.” He finally stopped laughing and shook his head at me.

  “Well? Yes or no?” God, this guy is something else. One second he’s all serious and annoyed, the next he laughs at me like I’m some sort of comedian.

  “Of course he does. Who doesn’t?”

  “Oh.”

  “Fuck me, you’re precious.” He was still grinning, but his eyes were back on the tv.

  Chapter Three

  Harlow

  I continued to eat my dinner in silence. After being laughed at, I decided to just stay quiet and not say another word. I got up from the couch and walked back to the kitchen.

  “Get me another beer.” My jaw clenched and I almost turned around to shoot him an angry glare. I didn’t, though. Instead, I opened the fridge and took out a beer. Walking over and handing it to him, I took his empty dishes he held up. I rolled my eyes at his demanding behavior. Even when he wasn’t talking he was nagging me.

  “You know, I do work at a diner, but I’m not your personal waitress.” Maybe telling him off would help.

  “That’s right, you’re not. I don’t pay you.”

  My brows shot up and I almost dropped the dishes. “Excuse me? This is still my house you’re sitting in. Why are you being such an asshole?”

  “I’m not,” he simply said.

  “Yes, you are. You’re being rude to me. I might be younger, but I’m not your puppet!” I stomped back to the kitchen, almost throwing the dishes into the sink. Luckily, they didn’t break. But when I turned to snap at him once more, my hand hit the empty glass standing on the edge of the kitchen table and it fell, shattering at my feet.

  “Great,” I muttered and crouched down to pick up the broken glass.

  “You’ll hurt yourself.” Hunter came down beside me,
reaching for my hands to push them away. I pulled back and squeezed the piece of glass in my hand a bit too tightly. I felt a sharp sting and blood started to drip down the palm of my hand.

  “Told you. Move.”

  I stood and stared down at him. “This wouldn’t have happened if you’d just let me do it.”

  “I said move.” He nudged my thigh with his elbow, trying to get me away from the glass. “Go put some ice on that.”

  I finally moved away from him. “We don’t have ice.”

  Letting the water run in the sink, I held my injured hand underneath the cold stream. It wasn’t a bad cut and nothing got stuck in the wound. But it still hurt.

  My blood was boiling from anger. How could he be so insensitive?

  I didn’t move. I just watched and waited for the water in the sink to turn from red to white. I heard Hunter picking up the pieces and throwing them in the trashcan.

  “Let me see.” Suddenly, he was standing right behind me, turning the water off and taking my hand in his. He held it up and looked at it, then took an old kitchen towel sitting next to us on the counter and pressed it against my wound.

  “You won’t need stitches.”

  “Oh, good.” I sighed. I was annoyed. Why would he even care if I hurt myself? “I can do it myself.”

  “Where are the Band-Aids?” he asked instead. My brows narrowed.

  “I said I can do it myself.”

  Instead of listening, he took my other hand and pressed it against the towel, gesturing for me to keep pressing down. He started to open all the cabinets, looking for the first aid kit.

  “Hunter…” I tried to stop him. “Did you hear me?” But nothing.

  I called his name once more, but he still ignored me and opened some more drawers.

  “Hunter!” I finally shouted and he froze.

  Turning around slowly, I was not expecting him to look at me that way. His eyes were dark and he had a deep fold between his eyebrows. He looked scary as hell.