AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“It’s that little fucker, Hunter Greene!” Rhys snapped.
The second cop stiffened and then glanced over his shoulder at Hunter. Luckily he stayed where he was because while Roman had no doubt he could take on Rhys, two armed guys were another matter entirely. The cop turned his attention back to Rhys and said something in a low voice that Roman couldn’t make out. When he seemed satisfied that Rhys was staying quiet for the moment, he turned on his heel and walked towards him and Hunter.
“I’m Deputy Jax Reid,” he said quietly. He didn’t bother asking Roman to move which was good since Roman wasn’t about to let anyone get to Hunter again. Instead he studied Hunter’s face and softly said, “Hunter, do you want to press charges?”
“Yes,” Roman instantly said.
“No,” Hunter whispered. “No,” he repeated more firmly and shook his head.
Jax studied him for a long moment. “Are you sure?”
Hunter nodded vehemently and Roman could tell he was barely holding it together.
“Deputy Tellar won’t bother you again,” Jax said as he turned and went back to Rhys and Finn.
“Take Finn home, Rhys,” he said firmly.
Rhys was still seething but appeared to be more in control of himself. He reached down and wrapped his hand around Finn’s but his frigid eyes were still on Hunter when he said, “Stay the fuck away from Finn, do you hear me?”
“Rhys, now!” Jax bit out.
Rhys turned and led Finn to an old pickup truck sitting at the curb and it wasn’t until the truck peeled out of the spot and headed out of town that Roman finally relaxed. Jax gave him a brief nod before striding back to the police station.
Roman turned to check on Hunter and saw that he was still in a state of shock from the attack.
“Hunter, talk to me. Tell me what that was about.”
Hunter just shook his head again and when Roman reached for him, he dodged his touch and then hurried across the street. Roman managed to catch up to him when he reached his car but he was so agitated that he yanked himself free of Roman the second he touched him. The distress was written all over his face but he had yet to utter a sound or shed a single tear. He simply climbed into his car, started the engine and calmly pulled out of the parking spot as if nothing had happened.
Roman got into his car and followed him. The house Hunter pulled up to was a stately white colonial with a white picket fence surrounding the large property. It looked very out of place on the quiet street that was lined with older ranch and cape cod style homes. Hunter left his car parked in the driveway and disappeared into a side door. By the time Roman got inside, he didn’t see any sign of Hunter and a quick search of the house showed that Hunter’s parents weren’t at home. He found what he could only assume was Hunter’s room if the trophies lined up on the dresser and the academic award certificates covering one wall were anything to go by. There was a twin bed in the center of the small room and a desk pushed up against the only window. Nothing about the room gave any additional insight into Hunter because there were no pictures or posters or knickknacks that he would have expected to find in someone’s childhood space.
Roman went to what he assumed was an attached bathroom and tried the door only to find it locked. He knocked and called Hunter’s name but there was no answer. A tremor of fear went through him as he knocked again.
“Hunter, can you open up please? I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
Silence.
Roman pounded on the door hard enough to make it rattle but Hunter didn’t respond in any way. So there was absolutely no hesitation on Roman’s part when he stepped back just enough so he could put his shoulder forward and throw his weight against the door. It gave on the first try and just as it flew open, he heard a rattle as something hit the floor and his eyes immediately went to a spoon laying on the tile floor between Hunter’s feet. Hunter was sitting on the edge of the bathtub and was busily jerking his shirt sleeve down as he tried to palm the lighter that was in his left hand.
Rage tore through Roman as he yanked Hunter to his feet and pushed him against the wall by the door.
“Where is it?”
Hunter opened his mouth to say something but when nothing came out, Roman lost it and began searching the bathroom. He snatched the spoon off the floor and then ripped the lighter that Hunter was still trying to hide from his hand.
“What is it? Meth? Heroin? You think that shit is going to fix you? To make you not want dick anymore?” Roman snarled as he flung the spoon and lighter into the sink. “You think shooting up’s going to make whatever the hell just happened out there go away?”
“I’m not an addict,” Hunter whispered feebly.
Roman knew he was just as close to losing it at as the cop who’d lashed out at Hunter. Grabbing Hunter’s left arm, he yanked it forward and reached for the sleeve.
“No!” Hunter suddenly screamed and began fighting him.
“Not an addict, huh?” Roman snapped as he pinned Hunter with his body and forced the sleeve up.
“No, Roman, don’t! Please don’t!”
But Roman ignored Hunter’s desperate pleas and the tears that were now flowing freely down his face and pushed the sleeve up past the elbow. His eyes began searching for the track marks he knew were there but he froze at what he found instead. Round red marks, at least a dozen of them, littered the inside of Hunter’s forearm. Some of the injuries looked fresher than the others and from the different severity levels of the scarring, some were older and had likely been severe at some point.
