Page 27 of Hurting Hunter
The night unfolded with a rare quietude as they took comfort in the normalcy of simply being together outside the usual chaos of their lives. They shared a late-night snack, talked and cuddled in bed, and for a few hours, allowed themselves the luxury of forgetting the complex web of their investigation.
By the time morning light filtered through the curtains, the sanctuary of Hunter's home had provided them both with renewed focus and energy. Transitioning from the personal warmth of last night to the professional coolness of their duties, they prepared themselves to dive back into the data and surveillance feeds that awaited their attention.
In the well-equipped computer room in Hunter’s home, the glow of monitors cast an eerie light over Ethan and Hunter as they poured over surveillance footage and financial documents. The room was filled with a tense silence, punctuated only by the occasional click of a mouse or the soft murmur of conversation.
Ethan leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples before turning to Hunter with a serious expression. "We know law enforcement is tangled up in this, but the ring has access to details that only someone from the club could know," he said, his voice low and troubled.
Hunter nodded, his eyes not leaving the screen as he scrolled through another document.
"Do you have anyone in mind? Someone who might be leaking information?"
"It can be almost everyone. Except maybe Slate or Brick. They founded the club and would never do anything to harm it.” Hunter sighed, tapping a finger against the desk. “My guess would be… Rex. He's relatively new, always flush with cash. It doesn't add up. His background doesn’t point to any family money, and bartending or bouncing wouldn’t cover this kind of flow."
Ethan turned away from the monitor to face Hunter fully. He furrowed his brow in thought. "That’s a solid point if he’s been living well beyond the means of a typical bar salary. Have you quizzed him about his finances?”
“Yeah, no matter the questions or ribbing, he's always dodgy about it."
As Ethan flipped through another set of bank statements, his brow furrowed. "Look at this," he pointed out, showing him the sheet where multiple high-amount transactions were highlighted. "There’s no way a bartender salary covers this. And these deposits coincide with the dates we had actions against the ring."
Hunter leaned over Ethan's shoulder, scanning the evidence. "It’s too consistent to be a coincidence," he agreed, his voice low. "He’s been flying under the radar, but this... this is too direct to ignore."
Ethan stood up, pacing a small circle before stopping and facing the monitor again. "We need concrete evidence. Let’s dig deeper into his financials, look for any anomalies or connections to known traffickers. Can you set up surveillance, tap his phone, track his movements? I don’t want to involve the precinct, since we’re not sure how deep the corruption is running there."
Hunter quickly typed commands into his computer, setting up the necessary surveillance measures. "I’ll monitor his communications around the clock. If he’s our leak, he won’t have much room to maneuver now."
Ethan watched Hunter work. "Let’s keep this tight. If Rex is involved, tipping him off could blow the whole operation."
The two of them sat back, the gravity of the situation sinking in. Rex had been a trusted member of the ECOs, always around to lend a hand, his loyalty never questioned—until now. Hunter had ridden with Rex, shared drinks, and stories. The thought that he might be the mole, feeding information to the traffickers, was a bitter pill to swallow.
In the high-tech nerve center, Hunter's fingers danced across the keyboard. He had just successfully installed tracking software on Rex’s phone by sending the man a text message with a porn GIF infected with a hidden program.
Watching his man's skills, Ethan was fully awake and energized, despite their short night. When he swallowed, his mouth was dry and he realized he’d been gawking with it hanging open.
Blinking, Ethan stared down at the phone in his hand and tried to remember what he was about to do. He shook his head in an effort to clear it, pulled up his chat with Dani and shot her a quick message.
Meet me at the precinct. Got a major update.
Turning back to Hunter, he pocketed his phone. "I’m intending to try to dig more into the law enforcement involved. This reaches deeper than we thought."
As Hunter leaned back, the expression on his face similar to the one he got after sex, Ethan's cock surged to life. Ethan ignored the fucker as he did his desire to stay. He needed to update his partner. Unable to leave, Ethan hovered by the door.
Hunter nodded and rose. "I’ll walk you out."
"Yeah?"
Was it Ethan’s imagination or did the room just turn brighter?
"Yeah."
Ethan gathered his jacket, lost in thoughts. There was no need for words; the weight of their findings and the uncertainties ahead filled the space between them. They walked side by side toward the exit.
As Hunter opened the door, he cautioned, "Please be careful. You know how deep this could run."
Ethan nodded, his mind racing with plans and possibilities. As he started to leave, a sudden impulse seized him. He spun around, stepped back toward Hunter, and without a word, grabbed him by the t-shirt. Pulling him close, Ethan pressed his lips firmly against Hunter's in a deep, expressive French kiss. It was a bold, consuming moment that spoke volumes, more about their emotional connection than mere physical attraction.
Warmth flooded Ethan’s body from the core outward, tingling surges sparking from his chest and radiating through his limbs. His heart raced, pounding against his ribcage, while his stomach fluttered with nerves and exhilaration. Each breath they shared expanded his chest further, filling him with a heady mix of power and vulnerability.
The world around them faded into a blur, sunbursts and spots dancing across Ethan’s vision as the intensity of the moment peaked. His mind, often cluttered with worries and cases, emptied completely, leaving room only for the vividness of the present. The usual cacophony of city sounds dimmed, replaced by the heightened sensations of Hunter’s proximity—the texture of his shirt under Ethan’s fingers, the scent of his skin, the warmth of his breath.
