Page 10 of Hurting Hunter
It made him wary.
The uncertainty was unlike him; he was used to compartmentalizing, to keeping his personal life separate from his work. But Hunter had breached those walls, and now Ethan found himself unable to keep the two from bleeding together. Ethan hoped he'd never have to investigate the Emerald City Overdrive motorcycle club because blurring the lines between duty and desire was dangerous enough without Hunter 'Crosscut' Maddox occupying so much space in his thoughts and challenging the integrity of his heart.
Chapter 8
Less than five miles away from the police station, but worlds apart, Hunter sat at a cramped desk outfitted with multiple computer screens glowing with open tabs and scrolling code. As he took a bite of his sandwich, he carefully nudged back a slice of pickle slipping out from between the crusty bread. Outside his window, Seattle hummed with activity, but his room was quiet enough to hear the drone of electronics where Hunter was methodically uncovering secrets buried in digital shadows.
While his actions weren’t exactly legal, Hunter considered himself an ethical hacker. His current actions fell into the category of "gray-hat" hacking, which referred to individuals who engaged in hacking activities without explicit authorization, but with the intention of exposing vulnerabilities. This was distinct from black-hat hackers, who used their skills for malicious purposes, and white-hat hackers, who were authorized by organizations to test and enhance their security systems.
It was working as a red-and-white-hat hacker that brought in Hunter’s money. Organizations paid him well for his unique blend of skills and his ruthless efficiency. Only last week, a multinational bank paid him a cool two-hundred grand after he tracked down a persistent black-hat hacker who had been siphoning funds from various accounts. In cases like this, his skills also came in handy for the club.
Hunter furrowed his brow as he delved into the digital depths for anything incriminating on the farmer. After wiping his fingers clean with a napkin, Hunter guzzled down some soda.
His fingers danced across the keyboard, the rapid clicks mingling with the low purr of the machines around him. TJ, or Tiny John, as they ironically called him, due to his towering frame and linebacker build, leaned over Hunter's shoulder. “Find anything yet?”
"Just some shady financial transactions and a couple of complaints from former workers," Hunter replied. “But I’ve just scratched the surface.”
TJ grunted, shaking his head. "That guy's a piece of work. Characters like that aren’t born overnight. Usually, they build up to it.”
TJ’s eyes were hard. From what Hunter knew, he’d had a shitty childhood. His mom an addict, his dad a piece-of-shit lowlife. It seemed like memories of his own struggles made him unforgiving toward anyone who exploited the vulnerable.
We gonna take him down?"
"The farmer's been through a messy divorce recently." Hunter’s fingers flew over the keyboard as he navigated to Facebook. "Let's see what the ex-wife has been up to."
TJ leaned in. "Facebook, really?"
“You'd be amazed how much people share on here.” Hunter pulled up the wife's timeline. He skimmed the posts, looking for anything out of place.
TJ let out a low whistle as he glanced at the screen. "Look at those titties." He pointed toward a photo of the woman's friend. “Now that’s a MILF if you ask me.”
Hunter forced a laugh. “Yeah, she’s got quite the rack, I could easily blow…” He trailed off when something else on the screen caught his attention. Narrowing his eyes, he scrolled through the pictures, spotting a subtle, but telling change in the ex-wife’s appearance. "Look at her nose here," he pointed out, comparing two photos. "Doesn't it look like it might have been broken?"
“What?” TJ leaned closer, clearly abandoning his lascivious thoughts. "Fuck, man! Yeah, you might be onto something.” He slapped Hunter on the back. “We need to talk to her ASAP.”
"Let me call Rex. He’s the best man to approach her," Hunter suggested, his mind racing. “He's got that smooth charm, and he looks more like a choirboy than a biker. He'll get her to open up.”
TJ nodded. “Good call. Rex can get a stone to spill its secrets.”
Hunter almost dropped his phone when TJ slapped him on the back again. But it wasn’t the impact that made Hunter fumble. TJ’s, “You deserve to get laid tonight,” conjured an image that made his heart rate speed up and his cock swell.
“I’ll make sure to tell the Ecorettes you deserve a reward tonight,” TJ continued, referring to the women who hung around the club. They were drawn to the bikers' strength and the hint of danger that surrounded them. In exchange for protection and shelter, they provided services like cleaning and cooking. They were also happily available to take a brother’s cock for a spin. “Maybe you should give Elena a try. She’s barely able to hold a conversation, but she has a mouth like a hoover and a sweet pussy.”
As he engaged with TJ about tits and pussies and fucking, the familiar tug of his double life made his stomach churn. Dialing Rex’s number, Hunter focused on the task at hand, pushing aside his internal struggles threatened to overwhelm him.
Chapter 9
Ethan’s heart pounded in his chest as he pushed open the door to Thorns & Roses. The familiar rush of anticipation mingled with nerve-wracking vulnerability. The air was thick with the scent of leather and citrus cleaner. The seductive and provocative lyrics from Cola by Lana Del Rey couldn't drown out the sounds from the dungeon.
His eyes scanned the room in a habit ingrained from years as a police detective and Dominant. However, tonight they were searching for one person in particular. Ethan's heart pounded; each beat a reminder of the high stakes of this encounter. His senses were heightened. Every nerve in his body tingled with anticipation, his mind racing with endless possibilities of what a reunion might bring.
The moment he saw him, Ethan’s breath caught in his throat. Hunter was perched on a stool, leaning against the bar. With a drink in hand, he looked both out of place and entirely at ease in the sea of bodies. His presence drew Ethan’s attention irresistibly across the room like a beacon. The memory of their last encounter, the intensity of Hunter’s submission and the connection that forged something unexpected between them, sent a shiver down his spine.
As he passed through the crowd, Ethan felt the weight of multiple eyes on him. He brushed it off, focusing on the figure at the bar. The noise around him faded to a dull background hum, and every step increased his pulse.
Finally, he reached Hunter, who looked at him with guarded pleasure. "Sir," he greeted, his voice low and sending warmth through Ethan's body. "I was hoping to meet you."
As Ethan's smile broke through the tension, his shoulders eased, the stiffness that had gripped him melting away. His heart pounded with desire and longing as he reached for the glass in Hunter's hand. He set it gently on the bar with a soft clink. In a fluid, unspoken agreement, he tugged Hunter off the stool, his fingers curling firmly around the back of Hunter's neck, drawing him close with an intensity that left no room for doubt.
