14. He Must Atone For That

Chapter 14

He Must Atone For That

HUNTER

" L ook, you said she knew things about Middleton," a man complains from where he stands in a corner, and I see the flicker of a match as he lights his cigarette. "She's not even talking."

"She knows something," Steve tries assuring the man.

"I'm not sure if this is working out. The deal was that you were going to get me information that would be beneficial to me. This kid is nothing more than some who-gives-a-shit bartender."

"I'm telling you, she knows something!" Steve says desperately. "I've never seen him act like this before over some pussy. And she'll sing like a fucking canary if I rough her up some more. I promise you that.

The man's voice lights up in interest. "She's a pretty little thing, and there are different ways to get her to talk. Why don't you step out, Steve? Let me and the little lady have a few minutes together."

I'm going to rip this wanna-be gangster's balls off first, I think to myself icily.

"I'm not done with her yet," Steve says, his face getting angry. "She got me fired and insulted!"

When Steve lifts his hand to strike Megan again, I've had enough. I raise my gun and aim it at the center of his palm. I pull the trigger, and the howl of Steve's agony is beautiful as he bends over, clutching his wrist. The other man fumbles, reaching for his gun, but I shoot his left kneecap, forcing him to fall, and his gun slides across the floor out of his reach.

I walk into the circle of light, making a clicking sound with my tongue. "I warned you, Steve. I warned you to leave and never look back."

The asshole is screaming in pain and doesn't respond as I cover the distance to Megan and lift her face gently. Megan stirs, but she doesn't move. She has one large bruise over her right cheekbone, in exactly the same place she had been injured earlier today. Her lip is cut, but she doesn't seem to have any other injuries on her face. I'm tempted to lightly kiss some of the pain away for her, but I restrain myself.

"Are you hurt badly?"

She stares at me but offers no response, her eyes unfocused. I'm not done with either man, but I don't want to leave her side. The look in her eyes bothers me. Why are they so empty? How can she be so strong one moment and so broken the next?

I move to stand behind her, gently urging her head to rest against my thigh. I cover her eyes with my left hand, whispering in her ear, "This will all be over soon."

I shoot Steve again in the crotch. His screams are blood-curdling, and when Megan hears them, she flinches, but I don't falter. The sight of his blood spraying across the chair and all over Megan's new outfit is irrelevant. This bastard put his hands on her.

He must atone for that.

I have a lot of experience in inflicting pain, and I know exactly where to shoot someone to cause maximum damage without killing them. This time, I move from his crotch to his collarbone. He curls into himself, pleas for mercy falling from his lips.

"What exactly did you think would be the outcome of this, Steve?" I drawl, watching him try to crawl away. "Did you think you could just put your hands on what's mine, and there'd be no repercussions?"

Mine?

I mean my employee.

It takes me a second to correct myself in my head.

I'm angry because Steve tried to harm an employee of mine and not for any other reason. My viciousness isn't because the staff person in question was Megan. I would carry out the same justice if he had so ruthlessly abducted any other employee to try to get to me.

Okay, I probably shouldn't have done the crotch shot. Steve is bleeding out rather fast on the floor, but what's done is done. I watch him bleed out dispassionately, which actually takes a lot of self-composure because what I'd rather be doing is using my fists to crush his skull.

The texts are flying in on my phone. At this point, everyone on my team has heard the gunshots and is probably wondering if I'm alive, but I give them direct orders to stay where they are. I'm handling this. This shit is personal.

Lars: Can we come in, sir?

Parker: Are you okay, boss?

Me: Stand down for now. I'm good.

The deviant in the corner who started all of this tries to slide across the floor and out of sight when he sees me focused on my ex-manager, so I turn and say in a casual tone, "You didn't think I would forget about you, did you?"

I recall his comment about the different ways he planned to get Megan to talk, and I aim the gun at his balls, too. His scream is ear-shattering, and Megan recoils into me.

"It's okay," I croon to her. "Keep your eyes closed."

She's frozen in place, and now I hear footsteps. There can only be one person who wouldn't take a direct order from me to stand down: my friend, Vaughn.

"Well, damn, Hunter," Vaughn says in a concerned tone. "You could've at least moved the girl out of the room. She's just a kid. You've probably fucking traumatized her with all of your cowboy shit tonight."

He's right.

I was abhorrently selfish about this.

Megan is an art student, not some seasoned woman who knows this life. Getting her to safety should have been my first priority, not exacting vengeance.

"Take care of this," I order Vaughn, suddenly realizing that I need to get Megan out of here.

"Stop snapping orders at me. I don't work for you. Call your team."

When I'm in auto mode, I start barking out orders to anyone around me. It's what I do. So, instead, I send Lars and Parker a quick text.

"They're coming," I tell him before I lean down to whisper in Megan's ears. "I'm going to remove my hand now, Miss Taylor, but I want you to keep your eyes closed."

She nods her head in a jerky movement before I lift my hand. Her eyes are squeezed shut, and I take off my blazer, wrapping it around her, before leaning down and picking Megan up in my arms. She feels good in my embrace, almost as if she belongs to me.

Mine.

"Eyes closed," I remind her gently, and she just curls into my arms, burying her face in my chest, not letting out a single sound.

She weighs next to nothing, I think to myself. I'm going to have to take her out to dinner a few more times.

Lars and Parker are running inside the building as I carry her toward the entrance.

"You good, boss?"

"Keep them alive," I instruct them. "And wait for me. I'm not done."

Lars glimpses at Megan and then back to me. He flashes an unusual smirk, and I already know what that means. I'll probably come back to far more injuries than I've caused. Lars can be sadistic when he wants to be, and I think he may be forming a soft spot for our new club manager.

So be it.

"If you don't mind, Vaughn, can you please drive us back to the club? Lars and Parker are a little tied up," I say as politely as I possibly can, although I'm not used to asking anyone for anything. I am typically the ordering-around type.

"Fine, let's go."

"No." Megan stirs in my arms, and when I look down at her, she's not looking at me.

"I'd like to go home. Please."

I stare down at her before uttering, "You've been through more than any one person should go through today. I need to check your injuries. Make sure you're okay. He banged you on the back of your head really badly."

"He just beat me up a little," Megan says, her voice almost dull. She's trying to slide out of my lap, but I tighten my hold on her, unnerved by her flat response to what's happened here tonight.

"I'd still like to be sure," I say, but she turns stiff in my arms.

"I thought I wasn't special?" she retorts. This time, there's a hint of anger in her tone. "Will you just let me go, please? I can sit on my own, and I know how to treat my own injuries. I'm a fucking pro at it."

She throws the one thing I regret saying to her back at me, and now she refuses to look at me. I hate it. It's only when I release her that she scampers to the end of the seat, farthest away from me, hunching next to the door.

"I'm not going to hurt you," I say in the calmest voice I can muster, although it irritates me to no end that she's afraid of me, of all people.

She wraps her arms around herself and doesn't answer. For a moment, I wonder if she has a right to be afraid of me. I did just shoot two people repeatedly in front of her. Hell, I am a monster.

"Take her where she wants to go, Vaughn."

I tear my eyes away from her figure and look outside the window as Megan rattles off an address to Vaughn. I'm not accustomed to experiencing guilt. The amount of blood on my hands is endless. Guilt isn't something I can afford in my line of work. Yet here I am, feeling pangs of this useless emotion for having created havoc in the life of the young woman huddled in the corner of my car.

It's not like any of this was her fault. I've completely insinuated myself into her life, and this is the result. Not long ago, she was just a nameless, faceless bartender whom I didn't know at all. But I'm the one who had to know more about her and who approached her despite my own self-imposed rules.

Don't get involved with staff.

Don't date staff.

Don't fuck staff.

So when I tried breaking those rules, and she rejected me? Well, the sting of that rebuff made me lash out at her with very harsh words in an attempt to hurt her. It was immature and very unlike me, but I did it, and now I have to own the consequences of the choices I've made ever since I laid eyes on her.

As I take in my new surroundings, a moment of realization hits me, and I shoot Vaughn a sharp look. He meets my gaze in the rearview mirror and shrugs. The neighborhood is a familiar one to both of us, and apparently, it is where Megan lives.

Just when I thought this night couldn't get any worse.