Chapter Four
Hunter
I wasn’t sure what had drawn me back to this shabby little diner. Well, to be honest, I knew perfectly well. It was Char.
Now that I knew who was beneath the waitress uniform, I wondered that I could ever have thought it and the figure beneath it to be shapeless. Every movement was as graceful as a dancer on stage, and every line of her body was utterly captivating. Her eyes were as dark and mysterious as ever, and beneath the cap, her face glowed with beauty despite the exhaustion I could see written on it. I couldn’t stop looking at her as she moved around the diner, pouring coffee and carrying trays.
You haven’t gotten laid in three years, an inner voice told me snidely. You’d look at any woman the same way.
But it wasn’t true, and I knew it. If I simply needed a woman, any woman, I could make a call or two, and any number of actresses, models, or singers would come running. The fact that I’d recently been released from prison wouldn’t dissuade them. If anything, it would make me more attractive.
But I didn’t want an actress or a model. I wanted a waitress in a crappy little diner in Bumfuck, Egypt.
I wanted Char.
She stopped next to my table, and I thought I saw a flash of aggravation in her eyes. Probably because I’d been staring like a horny teenager. She put down plates in front of me with a clatter, and I counted my lucky stars that my pancakes didn’t wind up “accidentally” dumped in my lap. She was clearly irritated.
“Anything else, sir?”
“Yes,” I said, surprising even myself. “Let me take you out Friday night.”
Her eyes went wide with shock, and then she turned a look of such disgust on me that I almost cringed.
“No,” she said flatly.
She turned to leave, but without even thinking about it, I grabbed her wrist again. She didn’t look any happier about it than she had yesterday. There was a dangerous glint in her eyes that promised scalding coffee in my hair if I didn’t back off.
“I’m sorry,” I said rapidly before she could dump the carafe on me. “I know I was a jerk yesterday. I apologize.”
She blinked, as if that was the last thing she’d expected me to say, and her battle-ready posture relaxed slightly. Some of the fire died out of her eyes.
“Thank you, Mr. Kensington.”
“Don’t call me that, Char. I really think we ought to be on a first name basis by now, don’t you?”
“Hunter, then.” My name on her lips sounded like it was uttered by an angel. “I appreciate the apology, but I am still not going out with you. I have to work.”
“Okay. Saturday night, then.”
“Not interested,” she said tersely.
Of course she wasn’t interested. I was a stupid fool to have ever uttered the words, and I knew it. Why the hell would a decent, respectable woman like Char go out with a felon? It was hardly a surprise that she’d rejected me. I should’ve expected as much.
So why did it feel like she’d just slammed a pole into my stomach?
“I understand,” I said dully, lowering my head. All at once I couldn’t bear to meet her eyes. I couldn’t bear to see that look of revulsion again. I let go of her wrist, and instead of rushing away, she stood there looking down at me for a long moment, an odd expression on her face. For a long moment she looked like she might speak, but at last she turned and rapidly walked away.
I poked listlessly at my pancakes for a few moments, but somehow or other I’d lost my appetite. At last I stood up, stalked from the diner, and went outside to my motorcycle. The same old Harley. The one true friend I still had.
Which was a pitiful thought.
My thoughts were a million miles away, but the Harley took me home like it knew the way. I supposed I’d driven these roads so many times in my youth that I knew every curve, every turn, without having to pay conscious attention. The cold wind blew fiercely in my face, reminding me of my youth, and yet I couldn’t even bring myself to relish the joy of riding my bike again. My thoughts were too wrapped up in Char.
Which was ridiculous. It wasn’t like I was in love with her or anything. I barely knew her really. And yet I couldn’t seem to stop thinking about her.
I left the Harley in its spot in the garage and headed toward the house. Toward my book-lined sanctuary. It was a raw, chilly February day, and the thought of sitting in front of the fireplace to warm my frozen toes was a comforting one. I headed into the back of the house and walked into the library.
Only to find Au sitting in the big chair behind the desk.
He looked up as I came in, and his mouth twisted in an unpleasant and wholly insincere attempt at a smile.
“How nice to see you, big brother,” he said, sounding as if it was anything but nice.
“Lovely to see you, too,” I growled. “Get out of my chair.”
“Your chair?” He blinked up at me, doing his best innocent look. We both knew he wasn’t innocent in the least, but he’d always had that decent-guy look down. It was the shimmery blond hair and the deep brown eyes, I think. He looked like a teen idol, pretty, nonthreatening, and disgustingly wholesome.
“I’m cold,” I said tersely, “and I would like to sit down in front of the fire. Move your ass, or I’ll move it for you.”
It was, I thought, the least he could do for me, considering he hadn’t even bothered to send a goddamn Uber for me yesterday. He owed me, damn it. He owed me everything. But he just continued sitting there, that irritating smirk still on his face.
“This isn’t your chair, Hunter. Not unless there’s a clause in the will I’ve forgotten about. I’m just as entitled to sit here as you are.”
I growled again, stalked around the desk, and grabbed him by the fine woolen lapels of his stupid charcoal Brioni suit, yanking him to his feet. Upright, he was three inches shorter than me and a good deal more slender, even considering the weight I’d lost in prison. I slammed him up against the nearest bookcase, toppling several volumes, and glared down into his eyes.
“I would like,” I snarled, enunciating each word with careful precision, “to sit in my goddamned chair.”
“Relax, Hunter.” Au failed to look terrified, or even particularly impressed. “Don’t rumple my new suit, please. I’m quite fond of it.”
“Fuck your new suit.” I shoved him up against the mahogany shelving a little harder, and was gratified to see something flicker in his eyes that might have been fear. “Get out of my way and stay out of it, or you’ll have to find out if blood can be gotten out of this fancy fabric.”
“Now, now, brother.” Au’s voice was cool, almost emotionless, and I decided I’d been wrong about that flicker of fear. The kid had bigger balls than you’d expect looking at his pretty face. “If you kill me, you’ll just go right back to prison—and for murder this time. They won’t put you in a minimum security facility for that.”
With an annoyed growl, I let go of him. Au was right—killing him wasn’t really an option, no matter how tempting an idea it might be. Au stood there straightening his lapels and tie, and I took advantage of his distraction to plant my ass in the chair. He looked down at me and gave a cold little laugh.
“Enjoy your seat by the fire, Hunter. Perhaps eventually we can find some way to agree on seating at the dining table without resorting to assault and battery.”
He turned to leave.
“Wait,” I blurted.
He turned and looked down his nose at me, radiating contempt. Anger flared in me. The little bastard had no cause to be contemptuous of me, not after everything I’d given up for him. But I choked back my anger because looking like I was always on the edge of murder probably wouldn’t help me in this situation.
“What is it, Hunter?”
He sounded amazingly like my father in that moment—exasperated by my presence and irritated by my mere existence. The memory of my father’s annoyed voice made my chest ache again, but I stiffened my spine.
“I want to be part of Kensington Media,” I said.
He turned back to me, lifting a supercilious eyebrow. “A part…of KM?” he repeated, as if I’d spoken with a mouth full of food and he was trying to make certain he’d understood me correctly.
“Yes. It’s the family business, and I want to be involved with it.”
“A part of KM,” Au repeated disbelievingly. “Well, we are looking for a receptionist, I believe…”
I briefly considered throwing him into the wall again, but I firmly chained my inner Rottweiler. “Don’t be insulting, Au. You know what I mean. I’m the older brother. I should be the CEO.”
He snorted, a rudely dismissive sound. “Please. You’ve just been released from prison, Hunter. I don’t know what sort of dream world you’ve been living in for the past few years, what sort of pie-in-the-sky redemption story you’ve been plotting for yourself, but the board of directors wouldn’t consider you for a middle management position, let alone as CEO. Not only are you a felon, but you never showed any sincere interest in the company while Father was alive. It’s too damn late to become part of it now.”
He turned his expensively-clad back on me and strode from the room, leaving me alone.
I stared into the fireplace for a long while, thinking. I should have known, I thought bitterly at last. I should have known. I’d given everything up for Au because despite all our differences, he was my brother, and family came first. That was how I’d been raised, and it was what I had always believed. I remembered my father’s voice lecturing me sternly: Family comes first, Hunter!
My charming younger brother had gotten the same lectures, but apparently the lesson he’d learned was this: Au comes first. He’d taken advantage of my absence to get his hooks into the board of directors and had managed to become CEO, and he wasn’t about to relinquish the position now, no matter what I’d done for him, no matter how much he owed me. In fact, I mused, he probably thought I was a danger to him because I might just decide to let the world know the true guilty party wasn’t me at all.
In which case, I might be the one who needed to watch his back.