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Hunter
From the moment I woke up, I knew this was going to be a bad day. My first breath was full of anger at the way my life is spiraling out of control right now. Groaning, I sit on the edge of the bed and thank God I never took Amber up on her offer last night. Just the thought of dealing with her as well as everything else makes me irritable as shit.
4 am. I’m late.
Dragging myself to the shower, I use the cool jets to shock my body awake along with my mind. I need to be alert and, on my game, because I have a breakfast meeting I will need to be sharp for.
Just thinking about who called it makes my skin prickle as if a million knives are piercing it because he is seriously pissed off and that is never a good thing.
As I go about a morning ritual that takes exactly thirty minutes, I think about the man who called this early start.
Ryder King. The man who operates in the shadows and clears our path, making our problems go away, leaving us to concentrate on the things we’re good at. Five men who belong to an exclusive club, although my membership is looking like expiring right now because I’m losing control of an empire I’m expected to run smoothly, enabling the scales of life to balance evenly as they were designed to do.
The markets are shaky and as the king of Wall Street, it’s my duty to discover why. I have no answers.
Ryder is heading my way, wanting those answers because I am losing control and he will want to know why. I don’t.
Pulling on my usual white shirt and black suit, I look like the successful business man they expect me to be. Most of the time I am but something is eating away at the heart of my empire and I need to discover what, or who it is before it brings it to its knees.
Hunter Blake needs to step up and take charge and the shitty mood I woke up with is one I have been carrying around with me for a while now as I struggle to discover what the fuck is going on?
My car is waiting outside the exclusive block I live in on the top floor. The penthouse that surveys the whole of Manhattan.
I have it all—I have nothing.
Being a member of the most exclusive organization in the world is a lonely path to tread. I let nobody in and even my own family don’t know the extent of my power. They just think I’m a surly piece of shit who needs a good woman to set him on the right path. Not interested.
My only experience of women is the greed in their eyes as they desire what I can give them. Social activists who want to climb to the top by any means necessary. Take Amber for one. Eligible in every way but personality. The daughter of a powerful senator who always gets what she wants. Ivy league education and enough money to keep her in the Jimmy Choo’s she loves so much. Polite, conniving and yet beautiful. She has her sight set on me and despite the fact I caved in as a favor to her father, I politely declined her offer of finishing the evening off in my bed with her legs wrapped around my neck.
Feeling slightly nauseous at the thought, I almost picture my mom’s approval from here. I’m used to hearing her tell me, ‘You need a wife to bear your children. A woman skilled in the art of running a proper home, someone who ticks all the boxes. A chef in the kitchen, a nanny in the nursery, and a whore in the bedroom. Someone socially aware who will fit in with our world and not let the family down. You need a wife, not a fuck, so deal with it because I’m not getting any younger and want to meet the mother of our future generation.’
Despite my shitty mood, I smile inside. Yes, mom is waging an intense operation on me right now and I wonder when she’ll realize I actually couldn’t give a fuck because I am not the marrying kind and she will just have to deal with that.
No, I’m leaving that pleasure to my brother Adam and sister Bea. They can continue the family line because the only thing I enjoy making is money and so I shift my mind to business where I’m way more comfortable.
* * *
Exactly ten minutes later,my driver stops outside the building I call home for most of the day. My empire.
My office sits above the New York Stock Exchange and I rule my kingdom from there. Nothing passes me by, usually that is, but something is happening that is out of my comfort zone and to say I’m pissed is an understatement because things are spiraling out of control and I need to act fast.
My driver opens the door and I step out onto the sidewalk and take a deep breath of fresh air—I say fresh, it’s as fresh as New York can offer given the early hour. I always start early, I thrive on it and I am firmly set on my throne before the cleaners have even left, before the traders arrive and before the money starts changing hands.
This is the part of my day I love the most. Just me and my empire. No phones ringing, no conversation, no shit. Perfect.
Not today, though. Shit is waiting for me and so as I head inside the building, my thoughts turn to the man who will inevitably be already there.
Ryder King. Ex-navy SEAL turned government paid assassin. Hiding behind his role as President of The Twisted Reapers MC club, who lists Washington as their base. Homes all over the country and a man you cross at your peril. He’s pissed. I got that much after the tense phone call we shared announcing his arrival.
Thinking of the reason why, I can’t blame him. Lucas Emiliano, the Casino King, was the last one of us to receive a visit when he was incriminated in framing Ryder for murder. Now Lucas’s business is suffering and his investors pulling out because of a cancer spreading at the heart of Wall Street. Word on the street is the gaming world is heading for a fall and people are selling their shares like the passengers leaving the Titanic. Lucas was targeted and narrowly missed an assassination attempt, and now it’s my turn.
Is it too early for alcohol, I certainly hope not because I need a medicinal whiskey as a matter of urgency?
“Morning, sir.”
I nod to the security guard whose name always escapes me and stride purposefully to my private elevator. I relish distance from the people who work here. I have no time for polite conversation, no hours in my day for idle chatter and every minute that ticks by is one when I should be making money.
My foot taps impatiently as I wait for the elevator to make the steep climb to the clouds. I have nobody above me; I like it that way. I live on top of everything I survey and the only people I tolerate are those required to make my business run smoothly.
