Hunter (Black Angels MC Book 1) Read online

  Hunter

  Black Angels MC

  A. E. Fisher

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Hunter

  2. Mallory

  3. Hunter

  4. Mallory

  5. Hunter

  6. Mallory

  7. Hunter

  8. Mallory

  9. Hunter

  10. Mallory

  11. Hunter

  12. Mallory

  13. Hunter

  14. Mallory

  15. Hunter

  16. Mallory

  17. Hunter

  18. Mallory

  19. Hunter

  20. Mallory

  21. Hunter

  22. Mallory

  23. Hunter

  24. Mallory

  25. Hunter

  26. Mallory

  27. Hunter

  28. Mallory

  29. Hunter

  30. Mallory

  31. Hunter

  32. Mallory

  33. Hunter

  34. Mallory

  35. Hunter

  Epilogue

  Sarah Brianne

  Lucca

  Prologue

  1. Mine

  2. If Salvation Is What You Seek, Violence Is Not the Answer

  Young Ink Press Publication

  YoungInkPress.com

  Copyright © 2017 by A.E. Fisher

  Edited by C&D Editing and Diamond in the Rough Editing

  Cover Art by Young Ink Press

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This work of fiction is intended for mature audiences only. All sexually active characters portrayed in this ebook are eighteen years of age or older. Please do not buy if strong sexual situations, violence, and explicit language offends you.

  Connect with A.E. Fisher,

  twitter.com/AEFisher_Books

  facebook.com/AEFisherBooks

  [email protected]

  Prologue

  Mallory

  Just do it.

  You can do it.

  Say it straight out.

  “Oh, my God, I can’t do this,” I choked out, turning on my heels and racing straight back to my car. I fumbled with my keys, trying three times to get it into the lock before I stopped.

  I couldn’t run away. I had to tell him. I had to tell him everything. I lied, and this was the part where I had to come clean and repent for my sins.

  This time, my stupid actions weren’t only affecting me. I had dragged someone else into my mess, and now I had to try to fix it … even if that meant telling him everything.

  So, there I was, turning back.

  Anxiety pounded through my veins, urging me to run away, telling me it wasn’t worth it. My legs ignored the warning, dragging me kicking and screaming across the lot toward the tall, intimidating building that belonged to the very man I had screwed over. As a matter of fact, he screwed me, which was the whole problem.

  Before I could reach the door and start a whole new series of arguments with myself, it swung open, and he filled the entire doorframe. I nearly cried.

  With broad shoulders, a height of six-foot-five that would make basketball players weep, the perfection of his muscles, thick thighs concealed behind jeans, tight abs peeking through a white shirt, and sculpted biceps that flexed as he leaned against the doorframe, he was very much my wet dream come true.

  My wet dream that did come true.

  Yes, the beautiful blond-haired man with the deep green eyes, a white-toothed smile, and slightly crooked nose made me want to relive it all over again.

  As the memory replayed in my mind, my body seared with heat as if it had been only a second ago that he had been buried deep between my legs, when it was over six weeks ago. The repercussion of my lie fit right in the space between.

  “Mallory?” he said with that soft, husky tone, and I saw our night flash before his eyes, as I had relived it. I swear his smile turned up a hundred watts, which made this situation so much worse.

  It would destroy him. Not because he was a bad guy, but because he was nice. Far too nice for this to fall on his shoulders when it was all my fault.

  I had trapped him.

  Suddenly, it became too much. So, what did I do?

  I burst out crying.

  Not even the pretty, cute sobs, either. No, it was the ugly, hard wheezing cries with snot pouring down my nose.

  “Mallory?” he questioned in surprise as he strode out of the doorway and straight toward me. He grasped my biceps then rubbed up and down my arms, trying to calm me.

  Because he was that nice.

  I cried harder.

  “Mallory, calm down,” he said with that soft, sweet voice. “What’s up?”

  “I’m so sorry, Noble!” I mumbled, though I wasn’t sure he could understand through my wheezing and sobbing.

  “I don’t understand.” Noble’s eyebrows pinched together as he looked me up and down, probably searching for a wound or anything that would clue him in on my breakdown.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” I cried, the conversation beginning to spin out of control. “I’m so stupid … I … fork in the microwave … So stupid … I’m sorry!”

  His expression only became more baffled the longer I spoke until he finally decided he’d had enough.

  “Mallory!” he snapped with an authoritative fire I had never heard before.

  I snapped up straight, my spine stiffening like a board until I found myself looking him straight in the face as he leaned down to my height.

  He gave a relieved sigh and brushed a strand of my messy red hair behind my ear. He curled his hand into a fist and, with the gentleness I adored, bumped it ever so softly under my chin, forcing my eyes up to his.

  “There you are.” A relieved smile played on his lips. “Now, let’s try this again, shall we? What are you sorry for?”

  I probably should have said it better, phrased it differently, but the verbal diarrhea was the only option, overriding my fear. “I’m pregnant.”

  I could hear the walls of his life crumbling around him as he went still. His arms fell away from me, and I watched his black boots take one long stride back. The distance between us was suffocating.

  “You said you were on birth control,” he accused, the natural warmth in his voice gone. It was now cold, detached, distant.

  That was what it came down to. One itsy bitsy little lie that had spun so out of control it was like I was on a roller coaster, waiting for it to crash.

  “I’m so sorry,” I spouted, fresh tears in my eyes.

  What else was I supposed to say? I had lied so I could have him in a moment of lust inspired by a childhood crush. Now I had brought this upon him. A child was supposed to be a gift. However, a man who was as wild and free as him, it would hold him back … Trap him.

  “You lied to me?” Gone was the cold, detached voice, and in came the furious betrayal and anger.

  “I didn’t mean to … I-I just …” I had never been good with people getting angry at me. I submitted after the first five minutes to avoid conflict. But this? This was ten times worse because it was all my fault.

  “Just, what!” he roared. “You’re like them, aren’t you?”


  It didn’t take a genius to know who he was talking about—those girls I never wanted to be. The ones who trap men like I was trapping him.

  “You wanted to cage me, didn’t you?” His voice was harsh like a whip, lashing against my soul and leaving an agonizing burn wherever it touched. “You wanted me all to yourself, like everybody else.”

  “No!” I wailed. “It wasn’t like that.”

  “Then tell me why?” he demanded. “I thought you weren’t that kind of girl.”

  I opened my mouth to tell him everything—the truth—but before I could get the words out, my jaw snapped shut.

  When I recited my reasons in my head, that was when I realized what I would say wasn’t much better. It wouldn’t excuse anything. I had promised that one night would be a one-time thing. Only now it was crumbling to pieces because of one stupid mistake.

  Of course, he didn’t know about the huge crush I had held for the last ten years. He didn’t know how many nights I had dreamed about having the single opportunity to lie with him after hitting puberty, and how many hours I had spent thinking how nice it would be to live a life with him.

  I had been in love with him for years from afar, knowing he would never have wanted this. And it all happened because of my selfish desire to have one night with him, because neither of us had a condom. I knew, if it hadn’t happened that night, I wouldn’t have had the same opportunity ever again. That was why I knew right then I couldn’t tell him any of that.

  Noble was right. I had trapped him. Not on purpose, but I had trapped him into sleeping with me. And now I was trapping him with this. I couldn’t tell him the truth.

  So, I lied.

  “There was no reason,” I whispered, my voice as small as the size I felt. I was the smallest, most insignificant piece of dirt in the world. “I lied.”

  With a harsh jerk of his chin, he turned and walked back inside, slamming the door shut behind him, accepting what I had said without a shadow of a doubt.

  Who knew it would be the last time I ever saw him?

  Chapter One

  Hunter

  Three and a half years later…

  “Adair!”

  The blond-haired child turned to face the woman who was calling him. He was in the front yard, his face covered in mud that couldn’t hide the distinct green eyes that stood out against the small square jaw he harbored beneath his baby fat.

  He looked at the open doorway, and then at the worm in his hand with panic. Then he toddled over to the bushes and threw the worm into it just as his mother appeared in the doorway.

  She took one look at his dirty face and hands, and scowled. “Adair Michael Ward,” she growled, stalking across the lawn to stand in front of him, hands set on the small curves of her waist, looking down with her disapproving mom stare.

  Adair smiled, hiding his hands behind his back like she hadn’t seen him.

  She raised an eyebrow before giving a heavy sigh and scooping the child up. “What have I told you about getting covered in mud?” She might have passed for mad had she not been trying to fight the light-hearted smile turning the corner of her lips.

  Her eyes went soft with adoration at the child’s features. His happy smile was all that was needed to completely win her over.

  “Sorry, Mommy.” Adair pouted.

  Mallory May Ward narrowed her eyes. “Are you going to do it again?”

  Adair shook his head with such force his chubby cheeks wobbled. “No.”

  Mallory waited a few seconds before she caved, and at the change in her expression, the little rug rat slung his arms around her neck and squeezed.

  After a few minutes of cuddling in the front yard, Mallory turned with her son in her arms and walked up the drive of the old Denver ranch house that was one accidental bump from collapsing.

  Once they were inside, I fired up my engine and drove the last few feet toward the front of the house, pulling my liquid ink Harley up onto the driveway and cutting the engine.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw a face dart from the window as I swung my leg off the back of the machine. My cut hung over the expanse of my back, my colors and patches clearly showing who I was. Or, at least who I belonged to.

  I knew Mallory wouldn’t recognize me. She would, however, recognize the black-winged skull stamped on my back, and her reaction would be as I predicted.

  I heard silence from the house that only moments ago had been filled with laughter, and as I approached the door, I heard the sharp click of the chain link behind it.

  Like that would stop me.

  I pressed my ear to the door and heard the soft patter of footsteps racing away from the door to the other side of the house. Then I lifted my boot and kicked, the door giving away under the force and swinging open, golden links scattering across the scratched wood-floored hallway.

  I squeezed through the tiny doorway, stepping over the wreckage as I headed down the hallway. That was when I heard the slam of a door on the other side of the house.

  Wasting no time, I marched down the short hallway where another corridor led me to three more doors. All were shut. I kept my ears on high alert as I checked each one in silence.

  As I reached for door number two, I heard the kid’s muffled whimpers.

  I grabbed the handle, and as I went to turn it, it jammed. Locked.

  “Mallory!” I yelled through the door. “Unlock the door.”

  No response.

  “Open this damn door now, or I’ll bust it down myself.”

  This time, her fear-strained voice came from beyond the door. “I’ll call the cops!”

  “Then I’ll make sure they arrest you for kidnapping!” I returned.

  “Bullshit!” she snapped back, surprising me.

  I sure as hell had never met her before, but from what people had told me, Mallory was supposed to be a quiet girl, submissive. She must have changed in the last three and a half years.

  At her snap, Adair began crying, and she softly cooed back.

  “Mallory Ward, open this door now.”

  “Like hell I’ll open for a Black Angel,” she hissed.

  “Even if your son’s father was one?”

  That brought absolute silence.

  “Mall—”

  “Please …” she begged, her voice so soft I barely heard it. “Go away.”

  I didn’t consider her plea for a single second. I hadn’t come all this way to be turned away from the one thing I spent the last two years searching for. “Not until I see my nephew.”

  For a long time, I heard nothing.

  As I was about to start yelling again, the door was slowly opened, and in the doorway stood a wide-eyed Mallory. Her small body only reached to my mid-chest. Her head was tilted back, the big brown discs of her eyes meeting mine. Inside them was a mix of pain, despair, and even a hint of relief.

  “Nephew?” she croaked, her eyes searching mine, which were the same soft green she must have seen up close almost four years ago.

  “Noble was my brother,” I answered with the softest resignation, the words still tight in my throat.

  “Oh,” Mallory whispered, her eyes flickering across my face: the sharper jaw, the dark brown hair—all the things that set me apart from my brother. Then her gaze dropped to the worn wooden floor, her long red curls hiding her face. She brushed them back with slender hands. Her nails were cut short and plain, hard work evident in the slight calluses on her palms.

  She seemed to be taking everything in, but she wouldn’t step out of the way of the doorway, keeping the young boy protected from me. She kept one of his hands in hers as he hid behind her. His other hand was tucked into a tear over her knee.

  “You Mallory?” I asked, my voice rough and graveled.

  She snapped her head back up and that vulnerable expression was replaced with a harsh scowl. “You were shouting it at the top of your lungs two seconds ago, and now you’re asking?”

  She was feisty; completely different from what I had he
ard. The few tenants of the previous places she had stayed had said she was quiet, kept to herself. They had also said other things, but none of that would waver his decision.

  “I’ve been looking for you for the past two years. I wanted to be sure.” I kept my emotions tied down as I looked at the woman who’d had me running in circles. She had moved from place to place, not staying anywhere long. Every time I had gotten close to her, she had moved on again. Today, I had caught my well-earned break. The call from one of my contacts that had said she had been spotted three states over had me on my bike in seconds.

  Mallory slowly nodded, glancing back and forth past both of my sides, probably planning an escape. She then looked back at the window in the room, which was open, and I saw a hint of her plan race across her face.

  Like hell.

  “I’ll catch you before you even get close,” I growled, the threat closer to a promise than a warning. “I’m not letting you get away from me again.”

  She scowled in reaction, but it changed in an instant.

  “Mommy?” Adair said, tugging on her knitted blouse.

  She looked down at her son, who had small tears in his eyes, and stiffened, pushing him further behind her as her face contorted to mimic relief yet was still too strained. “It’ll be okay, Adair. Don’t worry.” She tried to hide the tremor in her voice, but it didn’t work.

  “I won’t hurt you,” I told them.

  “You broke down my door!” Mallory whirled back on me with a bite in her words that was nearing hysterical.

  I looked back down the hallway as if I could see around the corner. “Yeah.”

  Her gaze was flat as she levelled it on me, one brow raised with that are-you-nuts look.

  “No, I’m not,” I answered, though she didn’t verbally ask.

  “I didn’t—” She bit down on her lip to stop herself and settled for hissing, “Don’t read my mind.”

  “No,” I refused, just to piss her off. I couldn’t find it in me to tell her that it was written all over her face.