8. Hunter

EIGHT

HUNTER

T o say the month since I'd located August and brought him home has been tense would be an understatement.

There is tension on my part: here I am, thrust into the role of father when I've never fucking done it before.

There's tension on August's part: he is recovering from the physical effects of dehydration and starvation in addition to the dumpster fire that has to be going on in his brain.

August at fifteen is challenging. August as a traumatized and angry teenager, is a whole different ballgame.

"August, breakfast is ready." I stand at his door as music blasts through. His diet is limited to a few steady items he will eat, and I had the cook stockpile them while he recovered in the hospital. So that brings me to standing in my hallway, talking to a door.

I feel like things should be better with August than they are now. But I don't know what I'm doing here.

I'm fucking ill-equipped.

I knock on the door before opening it. August sits on his bed with his iPad on his lap. The king-sized bed nearly swallows him .

I asked Ella what he was into these days besides RC stuff, and I had one of my guards run out to purchase new bedding. We set him up with a computer rig that would make the biggest gamers envious. He hasn't turned the computer on yet, and when he arrived at Amelia Manor, he ripped the blanket off the bed to sleep just with a sheet.

Ella told me it was a sensory issue, but I can only believe it's another example of my ineptitude.

I shake my head against the thought. Yes, I have things to learn. But we're both new to this. It will be okay.

Right?

"August, I have waffles ready for you. I had the chef pull out the Eggos, even though she about had a coronary when she did." I move further into his room. He doesn't look up at me—not that I expect him to—and his fingers move across his tablet.

"I am good. Not hungry." The disembodied voice from his tablet catches me off guard every time. The app he uses to speak for him has a setting that lets users choose the voice types. His voice selection is labeled "American gangster."

"You sure? You haven't eaten much these past few days."

He leans over to his nightstand and snags a bottle of water and a bag of Cheez-Its. "Yes. Goodbye," he says.

I clear my throat before saying, "Yeah, no problem. Talk to you later." I turn around quickly and shut the door behind me.

"He just needs time, H."

I walk toward Leo when I notice him. He stands with one foot on the top step, clearly on his way toward the security office a few doors down on this wing.

"He needs much more than I can give him right now." I feel my shoulders tense up and fight my body to relax them.

He presses his mouth into a straight line.

"Something on your mind, Leo?"

"Yeah, listen." He dips his head down and scratches behind his ear—his tell that he's uncomfortable since we were kids. "I'm not trying to get into touchy-feely shit with you. But I wanted to touch base with you?—"

"Touch base? What are we, on a conference call?" I interject.

"—to make sure you're okay. You know, mentally."

"Leo, if you don't stop, I'm gonna DoorDash you a box of tampons. I'm fine. I'm not sure what the fuck I'm doing here with August. The rest of the shit I couldn't give a flying fuck about."

He shrugs at my words and says, "All right. I'm here if you want to talk."

That's Leo. He knows when to leave me the fuck alone and when to push.

"I think I should call that doctor from the hospital. See if she has anyone else she can recommend to help." I start to move down the stairs.

"I don't think that's a bad idea." Ella appears from nowhere, as she always seems to do these days. She's always here in Amelia Manor. It's like she's fucking haunting the place—or, more accurately, haunting me. "But then again, we had the perfect candidate, and you had to blow her off."

I wanted said candidate to blow me in a very different way.

Leo takes the last step and heads back toward the security room. He stops suddenly when the alarm for the front gate activates. It blares for a solid forty-five seconds before cutting off abruptly.

One of our security staff, Jared, comes running down the hallway. "Boss, that's Winter Vaughan at the main entrance. An Uber just dropped her off. The car drove away, leaving her there. She says today is supposed to be her first day working here, but I don't have her name on your visitor list."

Counting to five in my head, I say to Ella without looking at her, "You didn't. "

When I finish my deep breathing, I turn to her.

Leo stands at the top of the stairs, amused, and Ella wears a chagrined smile.

"Well, it most certainly looks like I did." She rocks on her heels as a vision of innocence.

"Ella! I specifically told you not to hire her."

"Hunter! I specifically told you I vehemently disagreed."

"August is my son . I get to make decisions for his care."

"Since fucking when!" Ella stops herself, her eyes wide as her statement lands.

Yeah. Since fucking when?

"Um, boss, should I let her in?" Jared asks, to which I snap, "No!" just as Ella says, "Yes, and send the cart down for her."

"Ella, please." I pinch the skin between my eyes and sigh. I'm not going to win this fight. And I know I'm going to lose in more ways than one.

She moves closer to me.

"Brother." She places her hand on my raised forearm. "She's the best for August. They connected—that's something a lot of people don't even try to do with him. You want the best for him, don't you?"

Don't I? I've always wanted the best for him. The best doctors, therapists, programs…

Yes, he deserves the best. That's why I've stayed away.

I straighten up. Ella is right. But I sure as hell won't tell her that. She'd never let it go.

"Fine," I say, my eyes landing on Jared. "Do whatever she says." I walk past the group and head toward the office.

Fifteen minutes later, the click of footfalls taps a rhythm outside my door.

"This is H's office. He's in there right now being antisocial, " she raises her voice, "but I'll make sure he's out in a minute for your meeting." They continue down the corridor. Another set of feet land outside my office, and three quick knocks precede my door opening.

Leo slips in.

"We need to talk," he says.

"Well, that's never the start of good news," I reply.

Leo doesn't laugh. Instead, he walks over to the sidebar where liquor would be kept. Ella never stocked it, and it's good that she didn't.

When he sees it empty, he plops down into the seat in front of my desk.

"Talk then," I say, rubbing my temples.

"Your fucking father is a piece of work." I look at Leo, and he's seething.

"What did he do now?"

"What hasn't he done?" he grumbles and pulls his phone out for me to see.

It's an article from The Sun-Times. My father smiles, standing with some important-looking government officials.

"Who is that? They look familiar."

"That would be the FDA Commissioner. Next to him is the Secretary of Health and Human Services," Leo grinds out.

"He's fucking with us," I conclude.

Leo runs a hand through his hair. "He's been sniffing around here for weeks. He hasn't shown his face yet, but I know it's coming."

I rub the skin above my top lip, thinking.

"What would he gain from messing with BwP?" Leo asks.

"Depends on what he's after at the moment. If he just wants my attention, he knows that my whole life centers around BwP. If he has another angle, though…"

I don't have a clue.

"What do you think, then? Do we wait him out to see what he wants, or do we go to him? Be preemptive?" I say.

Leo waits a beat before saying, "Wait it out. Let him come to us and do what he wants. That will give the guys more time to dig into everything."

I nod. I've left my father alone, and he's left me alone. I know it's a matter of him deciding to not mess with me. I guess my return to D.C. sparked some desire for connection.

Maybe in another world, it would be sweet.

The fact is my father is a bad man who does bad things with other bad people. Not that we're saints, Leo and me. We also work with bad people. But we don't kill people. I haven't killed anyone since leaving my father's clutches.

An edge of remorse pierces through me, manifesting as a pulse in the base of my skull.

All the shit he made me do.

Benjamin Brigham is built differently. He revels in destruction. He gets high off torture. He's a monster.

And instead of slaying him, I've turned a blind eye and let him carry on.

Self-preservation is at the root of the will to live.

But now, my father wants something. I can't stick my head in the sand any longer. Because if I do, all he'll do is fuck me.

When Leo leaves the room, I settle into the reality that my father is about to blow up my world even more than it already has.