Page 61 of Hunter

MyIsabella.

“Hunter!” she cries, reaching for me, tears brimming in her eyes. “Help!”

Instinct kicks in.

First, protect her.

I grab her, moving her to my side, pressing her against my hip, anchored under my arm, in the hollow of my hard body.

Second, hurt those who would threaten her.

And because it’s her—mygirl,mywoman—I’m not thinking. I’m not right in the head. I’m seeing white. Scalding, calescent, feverish white. These assholes had their dirty fucking hands on her without her permission, and for that…they need to pay.

My free arm launches back, and my fist smashes into the face of the guy facing me. He spins around, falls into a table covered with empty beer bottles and goes down fast, a rooster-tail of blood spurting from his nose or lips or whatever part of his face my knuckles just broke.

The other guy comes from behind me, his hands landing hard on my shoulders. I push Isabella behind me, to the safety of my back, as I rotate to face him. This was the guy with his hands on her ass, and I see stars as I launch my neck back, then bring my forehead down on his nose with every bit of adrenaline-fueled strength I can muster. His nose snaps, the crunch of cartilage and bone nauseating as his blood splashes hot and wet on my T-shirt. The metallic smell makes my stomach flip over as I step backward to the shrill cry of his scream and reach for Isabella.

I pull her against my chest in a bear hug, my eyes tightly closed and my heart pumping so fast, I’m surprised it doesn’t burst from my chest. I’ve never acted so savagely in my life. She’s trembling in my arms, crying against my blood-spattered chest.

“Are you okay?” I demand. “Baby, are you okay?”

“They were…they were…” Her voice breaks with a hiccup, and I rub her back.

“It’s okay,” I tell her, pulling her closer and burying my face in her hair. “They won’t touch you again.”

“I d-didn’t want…I didn’t…”

“I know,” I say. “You didn’t want their attention. I could see that clear as day.”

“I’m so glad…so glad you’re here,” she says. Then, suddenly, she draws back from my chest, her cheeks slick and pink, her eyes bloodshot. “Wait. What are you doing here?”

The vulnerable way she’s looking at me breaks my heart and makes me furious at the same time. I look over her shoulder at the guy still on the floor behind the fallen table. He’s sitting against a wooden pillar, cradling his face, blood still seeping through his fingers. He’s mumbling something over and over again. I listen more closely and realize he’s repeating variations of: “I didn’t sign on for this shit,” and “That wasn’t supposed to fucking happen.”

I’m still staring at him, trying to figure out what he means, when I mumble a response to Isabella. “Rick suggested a night out on the town.”

It’s now…only now…I realize that the music has stopped, and everyone in the bar is staring at us. I look behind me where I see Carl and Logan, two of the cameramen onThe Astonishing Raceproduction crew, with cameras on their shoulders, filming us.Wait. Filming us?I look over Isabella’s shoulder again, and notice another cameraman, getting the other angle. Beside him, a production paramedic is tending to the guy whose nose I broke with my forehead.

“Wait a—what the fuck is going on here?”

Isabella, looking as confused as I feel, looks around, then back at me.

“Was this…?” she asks me, her eyes bewildered. “Was this a setup?”

From behind me, I hear someone break the silence of the bar, clapping steadily. I turn to see Rick approaching us, a huge, cheesy smile on his face.

“That waswaybetter than expected!”

“What’s going on?” Isabella whispers, her arms still tightly around my waist and mine still around hers.

A spotlight suddenly lands on us, and Nat Keegan pops out from behind Rick, approaching us purposefully in his bright blue polo shirt.

Am I asleep? Is this a nightmare?

“Young love! Forbidden love!” he cries, coming toward us, holding a microphone. “AnAstonishing Racenation favorite!”

“Oh my god,” Isabella mumbles, looking up at me.

“Holy shit,” I murmur back.

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