Chapter 7
I don’t have to wait long to satisfy my curiosity about Hunter’s past. On Wednesday morning, in the middle of a rather unremarkable workweek, I get a call from an unknown number on my cellphone that turns out to be my half-brother.
“Hey, Sera, it’s Hunter,” he starts, sounding awkward and uncomfortable.
“Hunter!” I say, trying not to sound as surprised as I feel. “I’m glad you called. What’s up?”
“I’m catching a ride with a friend into Seattle for a thing tonight,” he replies. “I thought we could hang out. Or whatever.”
“Ah, well, that sounds good and all, but I have to work until around six,” I reply apologetically. “And I don’t want to interfere with your plans for the evening.”
“Oh, no, that’s not until, like, way later,” he replies. “Like ten or eleven tonight at least.” Ah, to be young again.
“Well in that case, we can grab some dinner. Or you can come over to my place,” I offer. “I usually cook anyway. The more the merrier. You can even bring your friend if you want.”
“My friend has other plans today. If you text me the address I can walk or take the bus there,” he says.
“Where are you coming from?” I ask, curious.
“Uhhhh, I think we’re staying at a place in Burien?” he hazards.
“That’s not really walkable. In fact, it’s even kind of far to take the bus,” I inform him. How about I have my driver come get you before they pick me up?”
“You have a driver?” he asks incredulously.
“Heh, yeah,” I admit. “It’s, um, kind of a thing. I can explain later. Just text me your address and I’ll let you know when they’ll be there to get you.”
“Awesome, sounds good,” Hunter says agreeably, sounding much more enthused. “See you later then.”
“Yep, bye,” I respond.
After hanging up, I sit at my desk wondering if inviting him over was the best idea. Because it’ll give him a front-row seat to a number of things I’m not sure I want my dad to know. Like the fact that I have round-the-clock protection. Though, since Bryce is half of that equation, maybe it won’t be so noticeable. But it’d be hard to miss that Bryce lives with me. I shake it off as, for the most part, I realize it doesn’t much matter what my father knows. It won’t change whatever I decide I want our relationship to be.
I call Tristan and Bryce to let them know the change in plans for the evening and text Hunter with the arrangements. And then I do what I do best and ignore my reservations by burying myself back in my work.
Just after six that evening, I’m exiting the building when I get a text for Tristan that they’ll be about ten minutes late due to traffic. I sigh resignedly as I step out into the autumn chill. Since it’s not raining at the moment, I have a seat on the wooden bench in front of the building.
The late September air is crisp and moist. With sunset less than an hour off, the light has begun to dim and glow around the bright green leaves of the cherry tree I’m sitting under. It’s really quite beautiful.
A flash of movement in my peripheral vision catches my attention, and I swing my head around. A tall, dark man exits a dark blue sedan not thirty feet away. And he’s staring at me. And approaching quickly. On gut instinct, I rise and bolt back into the building.
“Penny,” I pant as I dash into reception. Penny Westchester’s blond curls bounce as her head snaps up, her brown eyes filled with concern at the obvious alarm in my voice.
“Sera, everything okay?” she asks, rising from her desk and coming around to meet me.
I glance over my shoulder, but there’s nobody there, inside the building or in front of its wide, glass façade. But I see the tail end of a dark blue sedan turning out of the entrance to the parking lot, and a shudder rolls through me.
“It is now,” I reply tensely, giving her a forced smile. “I just got spooked waiting for my ride. But everything’s okay.”
Penny looks at me skeptically. I don’t know her well, and she certainly doesn’t know about my protective detail or the circumstances that necessitated it. “Okay, well, if you’re sure,” she responds. “If you need anything, just let me know.”
I nod gratefully. “Thanks,” I reply. “I think I’ll just wait for my ride in here.” Penny nods and returns to her seat, glancing up at me regularly, probably to make sure I’m not continuing to spiral into panic.
I sink into a black plastic chair in the waiting room where I can see the front curb and focus on breathing normally. Thankfully, it’s not long before the black town car pulls up.
I give Penny a small wave and stride purposefully out to meet Tristan as he unfolds himself from the front seat. I’m out the door and jogging to get to him before he can open the back passenger door to admit me. I know Hunter is back there, and I don’t want him to hear what I have to tell Tristan.
Tristan looks at me questioningly as I throw a hand up against the door, blocking his path.
“Hey, Sera, everything all right?” he asks, suddenly on alert.
I shake my head and blink back tears I hadn’t realized were there. “Someone was here,” I say tensely, in a low voice. “I came out to wait for you and they approached from a dark blue sedan, just there.” I gesture to the spot the car had occupied. Tristan’s eyes widen at the closeness.
“Why were you even out here by yourself in the first place?” he demands, clenching his fists in frustration.
“I’m sorry, Tristan, I wasn’t thinking,” I respond. “Things have been quiet. I just forgot for a minute. Please, don’t say anything around Hunter, okay?”
“What did he look like?” Tristan asks, ignoring my plea.
I sigh heavily. “He was tall. Maybe six-three. Short, black hair. Dark eyes. Thin build. Menacing looking. Probably Italian,” I admit.
Tristan looks at me somewhat skeptically. “So he just approached you? What makes you think he was actually after you?”
“Because when I bolted, he turned tail. I saw his car leaving the lot as soon as I was inside,” I reply with thinly veiled anger. “And no, I didn’t get a look at the plates. But he was here for me, Tristan. I know it.” I hadn’t even stopped to consider I might have been paranoid. I felt that this guy was coming for me. But it’s the first time I’ve gotten a look at one of my pursuers. Well, it’s Alessandro they’re after, really. I’m just a fucking pawn. It all makes me so angry. Apparently, even not being with him anymore hasn’t changed anything, which he himself predicted. It’s maddening.
Tristan considers the information grimly. “Get in,” he finally replies in a clipped tone. “I’ll talk to Mr. Hoyt when we get you home.” Which means Bryce is already back at the condo. Fuck. I’m not sure how to keep this from turning into a shit show in front of Hunter. I shake my head, still angry, and allow Tristan to open the car door for me. As I slip in, I put on my best game face.
Hunter is sitting behind the driver’s seat with a bemused look on his face. I give him my best “everything is great” smile.
“Hey, Hunter,” I greet him.
“Hey, Sera,” he replies. “I like your ride.”
I laugh. “Thanks,” I reply shortly. “How was your drive down from Bellingham?”
Hunter shrugs. “Fine.” I smirk. It’s like talking to a surly teenager.
“So what’s this thing you’re here for?” I ask him.
Hunters looks at me but flicks his eyes away quickly. “It’s an artist thing,” he replies vaguely.
“Oh, like a gallery opening?” I ask curiously.
His answer smile is amused. “Something like that. So like, what about you? What do you do again?”
I consider how to explain it simply to Hunter without making him think I think he’s stupid. “I work for a company that builds stores, apartments, that sort of thing,” I respond. “Upscale ones, usually. They bought my company since we have a lot of expertise in putting together those sorts of deals.” It’s the barest bones explanation I can think of to avoid confusion or overexplaining.
“Do you have people that design the aesthetics of the spaces?” he asks. “You know, to make them feel upscale?”
I smile at the shrewd question. “We do,” I reply. “Several, in fact, and we work with a lot of companies on interior and exterior visual design and materials. It’s not something I’m particularly involved in the details of, but the finishes on the spaces we build are very important to the perception of our brand.” Hunter nods knowingly. “Is that the sort of thing you’re interested in doing?”
“Not really,” Hunter replies. “I’m more into freestyle art.”
“What does that mean?” I ask. Hunter smiles cryptically as the car pulls to a stop in front of my building, effectively halting the conversation.
Hunter is quiet on the way up because, well, he’s just kind of a quiet guy, it seems. Tristan is quiet too, but I can feel the tension rolling off him in waves. And I’m quiet because I’m dreading how this will unfold when we get inside.
We enter the condo to the amazing smell of barbeque and Bryce in the kitchen, clearly slaving on whatever masterpiece of meat and sauce he’s created. He comes to meet us in the entryway, wiping his hands on a towel. He’s already changed into jeans and a white T-shirt. He looks so handsome, and so happy, that it’s all I can do to keep myself from collapsing tiredly into him.
“Hey, baby,” he greets me with a perfunctory kiss. “Hunter, nice to see you.”
“Hey, man,” Hunter responds, looking around the condo in awe.
Tristan gives me a pointed look. “Sera, why don’t you show Hunter around while Mr. Hoyt and I touch base?” he suggests. I nod and lead Hunter to the window wall.
Hunter glances back over his shoulder. “Is Bryce that dude’s boss?” he asks observantly.
“Yes,” I reply. “Bryce’s company does private security.”
“Ahhh, so that’s why you have a driver and a bodyguard and stuff,” he replies, following me through the living room.
I cock my head, intrigued by the opportunity. That’s as good an explanation as any. At least, besides the actual explanation. But I don’t like lying, so I just let the assumption hang in the air.
“Make yourself at home,” I encourage Hunter, gesturing to the couches. But I brought him to this side of the living room because it’s impossible not to be drawn to the panorama behind us. And I’m not disappointed.
“Shit,” Hunter swears, looking out over downtown and Elliot Bay. “People actually live in places like this?” He shakes his head, dumbstruck by the view. While he’s distracted, I glance back nervously at Tristan and Bryce, who are still standing in the entryway. Bryce is now glowering, staring at a spot on the floor while Tristan speaks lowly. He’s rolling his massive shoulders anxiously, the muscles of his back clearly tensed. And as if he senses me staring, Bryce’s clear blue eyes snap up to meet mine. And his gaze is so filled with love and concern that I have to look away before I cry.
“I actually didn’t live like this until recently,” I admit to Hunter. “But I couldn’t help myself. I just fell in love with it.”
“I can see why,” Hunter murmurs, continuing to stare silently out the window. I hear the front door open and close.
“Hey, I need to go talk to Bryce for a minute,” I tell Hunter. “Be right back.” Hunter nods mutely and I slink away.
Bryce is still standing in the same spot, waiting for me. “You okay?” he asks, gently gathering my hands in his and kissing them lightly.
“I was a little shaken at first, but I’m okay,” I admit. “We knew this could still be an issue.”
Bryce nods grimly in agreement. “I was starting to hope it was passed, but it is what it is,” he replies somberly. “What do you need?”
I close my eyes, letting my emotions wash through me for just a moment, searching for the answer to his question. With startling clarity it hits me. I open my eyes, staring boldly up into his. I lean in so only he will hear me when I answer.
“I need you to fuck me up against the windows tonight,” I reply huskily glancing over at the window wall. “Until I can’t think of anything but riding you until you’re screaming my name.”
And what I’ve learned about my man is that his stillness in moments like these is a sign of his deep well of self-control. Because I can see in the slight flare of his nostrils and his dilated pupils that he likes it. No. He fucking loves it.
He takes a step forward so he’s calmly towering over me. “I think that can be arranged,” he promises with a glint in his eye. “Oh, and don’t think I didn’t notice that you hung that frilly little apron in the kitchen. It gave me a hard-on just looking at it.” His words send a jolt through me, and I bite my lip to suppress the lustful grin threatening to break across my face. His eyes keep hold of mine for another heartbeat before he steps away, breaking the spell. “Hey, Hunter, you hungry?” Bryce’s head snaps up to look over at my half-brother, still standing by the windows, and the vibe in the room mellows into casual relaxation. I shiver lightly at the power of Bryce’s emotional control over not just himself but everyone around him. And finally I feel safe again.
I saunter into the kitchen to get what I need to set the table and am joined shortly by Bryce to finish the usual trappings of dinner. It’s not long before we’re all seated and diving into Bryce’s self-proclaimed “best barbeque ever.”
“You know, I thought you were full of shit,” I mumble through a mouthful of the ridiculously delicious meat. “But this is amazing.” Bryce smiles happily and leans over, using his napkin to wipe sauce off my chin.
Hunter laughs, and we both turn to him, a little surprised. “What?” he asks, shrugging. “It is good.” I shoot Bryce a furtive look but say nothing. We continue to make small talk, and Hunter progressively comes out of his shell. Finally, Bryce asks the same question I did earlier.
“So what exactly is it that you came here for?”
Hunter considers Bryce for a moment. “A bunch of artists are getting together to make an … installation of sorts,” he admits. Bryce raises an eyebrow.
“Is this the kind of ‘installation’ that’s created at night because it’s done publicly, and,” Bryce clears his throat, “not exactly legally?”
The look of shock on Hunter’s face is priceless, and Bryce’s instincts pay off once again.
“How could you possibly know that?” Hunter asks in disbelief.
Bryce smiles and I know what’s coming. He points his thumbs at himself. “Security consultant.” And I can’t help but bust up laughing. Hunter gives an embarrassed smile. “But seriously, Hunter. I think you know how I know. Do you want to tell her or should I?”
My brother rolls his eyes and squirms uncomfortably in his chair. “I was arrested twice last year,” Hunter admits. “The first time for vandalism and resisting arrest.” He pauses, frowning. “The second, for assault.”
“Do I want to know why?” I ask, looking between the two men. Bryce shrugs and leans back in his chair, with a distinct air of staying the hell out of it now that he’s opened the flood gates.
Hunter heaves a sigh. “I’m a guerrilla artist,” he explains. “I was part of a team, actually. We did location-specific perception-altering pieces.”
“English, please?” I ask, looking helplessly at Bryce.
“They go outside and make everyday things you see on the street look like something else,” Bryce explains. “Sometimes intended to cause public harm.”
“No,” Hunter protests. “We didn’t pull that kind of shit.”
“So you didn’t paint a wall to look like an alley? And then lure a cop car toward it at night so he rammed it at thirty miles per hour?” Bryce asks sharply. Hunter pales at the depth of Bryce’s knowledge.
“In case you hadn’t noticed, you shouldn’t attempt to lie to this man,” I inform Hunter. Hunter’s eyes shift from Bryce to me.
“My crew didn’t do that,” he insists.
“I’m listening,” Bryce says patiently.
“I don’t owe you any explanations,” Hunter says tightly.
Bryce smiles indulgently. “No, I suppose you don’t,” he agrees. “But where you end up tonight may depend on it. See, I’m close, personal friends with at least a third of the police force in this city. One phone call and you and your friends may have a much more difficult night than you planned.”
“Bryce,” I gasp, surprised. I’m still reeling as Hunter’s world is a whole new beast to me. But I don’t want to scare away the only sibling I have and make him feel like he was lured to my house only to be threatened.
Bryce sighs and picks up our dinner dishes, ferrying them into the kitchen. “Look,” he says on his way back. “I don’t want to get you and your friends in trouble. I’m pretty sure you’re not lying. But I want to know what really happened, so I know for sure I’m not turning a blind eye to dangerous criminals.”
“That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?” Hunter asks accusingly. “That was just a prank. That my crew didn’t pull.” Bryce’s eyebrows shoot up.
“If you think vandalism, destruction of public property, and endangering the well-being of a police officer are funny, then you’ve got a lot to learn,” Bryce says dangerously quietly. Hunter, at least, seems to get finally that he’s walking a precarious line as it’s a while before he responds.
“We did shock-value pieces,” he finally admits. “We would draw people hanging out of high windows that looks realistic from the ground. We’d put down fake blood trails leading to cemented-in pieces made to look like bodies. That sort of thing. We didn’t hurt anyone or destroy property.” He glares at Bryce.
“Then who did you assault?” I ask softly. I want to ask why. Why do they do what they do at all? It certainly doesn’t make any sense to me. But odd, random art in public places isn’t the end of the world. Assaulting someone, however, is a whole other matter.
Hunter leans forward on his arms, twisting his fingers together. “My crew wasn’t the only one in our neighborhood,” he replies quietly. “The other crew, they were the ones that would go for destruction and chaos. We ran into them one night. Words were exchanged. One of their guys called me … well, he said something pretty bad, then pushed me from behind. I turned around and lashed out. But I had a crowbar in my hand. I practically took off half his face.” Hunter shakes his head sadly. “In case it doesn’t go without saying, I didn’t mean to hurt him like that. It was a horrible mistake.”
I’m so mesmerized by Hunter’s story that I don’t realize until he stops speaking that my hand is clamped over my mouth in horror. He nearly took off a guy’s face. Bryce’s expression is ominously blank.
“Wait a minute,” I pipe up. “You said that all past tense.”
Hunter smiles vaguely. “That’s right. Both crews disbanded after that night,” he replies.
“Then who are you meeting tonight?” I ask.
“It’s a gathering,” he explains. “Of all of us in western Washington, to do one, huge piece together. Peacefully, and not to cause harm.” He glances reassuringly at Bryce. “But I haven’t done anything public since that last time we were out. And I probably won’t again after tonight. I just feel like I need the closure. And this is huge. I guess I wanted to be a part of it all one last time.” His expression is so forlorn I want to hug him. But I’m still so appalled by everything I’ve heard.
“Does dad know?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
“No,” Hunter responds sadly. “Not really. He thinks I’m in a gang, or a drug dealer, or a drug user, or all of the above. He thinks I’m just a violent, vandalizing thug. A lost cause. Worthless.”
And this time I can’t help it. I rise from my chair and go to him, leaning down and wrapping my arms around him from the side. I don’t say anything, I just squeeze him with everything I’ve got. After a moment he lays his hand over mine, squeezing it gratefully.
“So you gonna call your cop friends on us?” Hunter asks Bryce warily.
Bryce shakes his head. “No,” he replies. “I think you’ve had enough trouble with the law to last you a lifetime. Just be smart tonight and stay safe. And call us if you need anything.”
The relief on Hunter’s face is obvious. “Thanks, guys,” he replies. I finally let Hunter go and sink back down into my chair.
“Thanks for being honest,” I respond. “Brother.” Hunter’s eyes lock with mine, and my heart shifts. And I see in his eyes that he feels it too. And that neither of us are used to having a real family. But looking between Hunter and Bryce, I’m thankful to be making my own.