Page 3 of Hunter

“You are not even a husband. You need a marriage first, so don’t think of it as divorce. It is merely a cancellation of a contract. I’m one less thing for you to pay for.” Her Spanish accent causes the words to sound almost romantic even though they aren’t. Her heritage is another thing I have loved about her since we met. She has fire in her like no other, and part of my reason for agreeing to her demands of living apart two decades ago was so that it was never extinguished. I couldn’t bear to see her in pain again.

“I may not be…” As I argue, she turns on her heel and walks away. Jumping from my seat, I scuttle after her like a puppy. She reaches the exit, and I grab her arm. She spins to face me, nothing but fury and hatred emanating from her. The expression on her face is identical to the one she wore on our wedding night—one of complete loathing. It brings me up short, and I let go.

“Good decision,” she hisses. Her bodyguard appears, a brute of a man with a ragged scar running down his cheek. There have been rumors there’s more to their relationship than boss and employee, but nothing has been substantiated. If that were the case, I figured if he had feelings for her, he would keep her safer than a man who didn’t. However, my initial reaction was to take him to the tunnels deep under the city and dissect him.

“Everything all right?” he asks, his voice monotone.

“Yes, thank you, Ronan,” she replies with a wide smile. Her eyes visibly sparkle as she looks at him. He returns her pleasantries with a nod.

“Of course, she’s fucking okay. I’m her husband.” His focus moves to me, and he stares impassively as if I were no more than a passerby. The green mist that immediately appeared gets thicker at his lack of professionalism. “Remember who pays your wages.” At this comment, he openly smirks and I step past Isabella, closer to him.

“With all due respect, sir,” he says, insanely sweet, “my orders are to protect Miss Isabella from any threats, whoever that may be. You chased her across this café and physically assaulted her.”

“I did not!” I snap, furious at being thrown onto the back foot.

“You touched her without consent, did you not?” His words hang in the air between the three of us. I glance at my wife, pressing her lips together, attempting to hide her amusement. She looks away as soon as she catches my eye.

“Yes, but…”

“Well, sir, that is exactly the behavior I am here to intervene on.” He straightens his shoulders like standing in line at the army. “And I pride myself on a job well done.”

“Let’s go, Ronan,” Isabella says, interrupting the show. “I think we have made our point.”

“No point, Miss. Only following Mr. Devane’s orders.” She laughs out loud this time, her hand lifting to her lips too late. She touches the other man on the arm affectionately, and my heart sinks.

“You do make me laugh,” she purrs before turning back to me. “Please, Hunter, sign the papers. Let me go.”

With that, they both turn their backs and walk away.

Chapter three

The Level Boardroom

Hunter

“So, how did the intervention go?” Russell Chase asks as he steps through the door of the boardroom. I glance up from my phone and glare at him. It was only a matter of days ago I strutted out of here, announcing I was telling my wife she wasn’t getting a divorce. She shot me down in flames. Russell is the most immense pain in the ass of my circle of friends. He won't let me live it down. I’ve been avoiding them all.

Before I can open my mouth to speak, his younger brother, Connor, opens the door before it closes. He is a slightly smaller version of Russell, but they’re incredibly similar to look at with dark hair and eyes. He, however, is far more sensible. Connor can assess a situation thoroughly before reacting, a quality his brother somewhat lacks. This tends to be to Russell’s detriment, but his impulsivity has occasionally saved his skin.

Between them, they make a good team in the law firm they co-own with their best friend, Harrison Waite. The brothers’ ability to work as a team extends far beyond the law, and more recently, they’ve come to an arrangement over the one girl they are both crazy about. The thought doesn’t sit well with me; there is no way I could share my woman. But if they’re happy, so am I.

But you do share your girl.

The little voice in my head that mocks these sorts of statements I make blares immediately. Isabella has lovers. I know as much. But they don’t mean anything—about that, I’m sure. The love we had as kids could never be replaced. Her having sex doesn’t mean I share her affection with another; it is purely a way for her to have her needs met. Whether or not my self-explanation is true isn’t something I want to consider further; in my mind, she still loves me, and I am her husband. This is a belief I hold on to each day we have been apart. It keeps me as close to sane as I’ll ever be.

“Morning, Devane,” Connor says with a smile. “How’s operation no-divorce going?” The two brothers glance at one another and laugh. Connor then moves and starts preparing coffee for everyone as he always does. I take my knife from my belt and throw it across the room. It pierces the wood panel to his left, and he freezes.

I stroll over and casually pull my blade from its resting place as the elevator echoes the arrival of another member of our little team. Damon McKinney steps out. His eyes move over each of us, taking in the scene before him. He chuckles, shakes his head, then throws himself down in the nearest chair at the long glass table.

“Okay, which one of you idiots upset him?” Damon asks.

“Who upset who?” Harrison appears from nowhere, clutching a file. He could be the Chase’s third brother to look at, but he’s their brother-in-law. I look around the room and think, what a fucking complex bunch we are. Not one of us has had a straightforward route to love.

“Chase One and Two are being fuckwits,” I mutter, wandering over to sit down beside Damon.

“No change there then,” he replies, grinning at me. “Any tasks for me today or can I have a day off?” My friend, who now works with me full time since leaving the police force, tries to keep his expression impassive, but I can see the pleading in his eyes.

“Plans or opportunity?” I ask, and his grin expands.

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