Page 16 of Bear Hunt

My eyes never break from Athena’s gaze as she watches us cross the sidewalk and reach the step to the coffee shop. That’s when she raises her own hand and my entire fucking world rocks on its axis because I don’t miss it. I don’t miss the slight upturn of her lips into what is the first genuine smile she gives to only me. It’s real and it’s all mine.

This time, my grin isn't too wide and it isn’t too forced. It’s just fucking right.

Once we’re inside, I immediately make a beeline for the window and catch her just in time as she crosses the street and heads in the direction of Maribel’s house. The street is long and if I don’t move, I can make sure she’s safe from a distance. I’m aware of the creep level this might be and my mama wouldwhoop my ass with the closest shoe she could find, but I don’t care. My only concern is Athena’s safety, and that is worth all the repercussions I might have to face.

“Let’s go before you can’t see her anymore.” Psycho’s voice is inches away but I don’t take my eyes off Athena as she stops every once in a while to look through the windows of the shops, her head cocking one side then the other. It’s cute. Hell, she’s cute. I have no idea what she’s looking at but one quick glance at the sign at the top tells me it’s clothes.

I’ll fucking buy her all the clothes in this town if it means making her happy.

“Did you finish your coffee already?” I ask this because there’s no fucking way he bought a coffee and drank it all within the last three minutes. He’s good, but notthatgood.

“Fucking hell, Bear. You have a lot to learn about being covert.” Says the guy who punched Mac’s best friend just last year for simply touching her arm. Yeah, covert, my ass. Dude doesn’t know the meaning of the word.

“I’m confused by this whole fucking conversation.” I’m about to walk right out of the shop when Psycho grabs my arm before tapping his index and middle fingers to his temple and smirking. “She thought we were here for coffees, not stalking. Also, that weird thing you did out there? Not sexy. You looked like a psychopath.” Way to throw my words back at me.

“Duly noted.” By the time I turn back to watch Athena, she’s on the move again and this time, I don’t hesitate. “Let’s go.” I need to make sure she gets home safely.

We only turn our engines on when she’s nearly out of our sights. It’s like a stake out except we’re not cops trying to catch a criminal, we’re criminals trying to protect our women.

I mean, just women… in general. Not that they always need our protection. Some do. Fuck. Fine. I’m obsessed with this girland I’m going to make sure no one fucks with her. There. I said it, I own it.

With Maribel’s place being downtown, it doesn't take Athena long to reach her destination. We park at a safe distance and I only look away for a brief second when I take my helmet off.

“You got it bad, brother.” I don’t answer, just grunt, because I don’t fucking know what to say to that. “It’s honorable, you know? That feeling you’ve got inside that tells you that what you’re doing may look wrong to other people, but for us, it’s fucking essential. Like water and the taste of our women. Not that you know it yet but I’m guessing soon.”

“That’s not what this is.” I don’t even know why I’m denying it, especially to Psycho.

“Huh.” This time I turn to look at him, my eyes running all across his features. I’m not sure how to interpret the furrowed brow and the disapproving downturn of his lips.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Just never thought you’d be lying to yourself is all. But that's cool. It’s all good, brother. In due time you’ll see I’m right.”

I grunt again because this wise wannabe side of Psycho is kinda freaking me out.

The sound ofCherry Pieby Warrant blasts from Psycho’s phone and I know it’s Mac calling him. Obviously.

“Hey, Cherry baby. You missin’ me?” Oh, God. I hope they’re not about to have some kind of phone sex. Not again. The one time I accidentally had to sit through him telling her in vivid detail the things he wanted to do to her once she was able to have sex again after her pregnancy made looking at her very fucking uncomfortable for weeks.

Psycho punches me in the arm, his eyes serious without an ounce of lust anywhere to be seen.

“Yeah, he’s right here. You wanna talk to him?” Confused, I frown then shift on my bike so I can take the phone. “Don’t hang up after, all right? Love you.” He hands me the phone with a scowl on his lips, like I’ve just run over his puppy. Dude is so intense it’s almost comical. Until, that is, you see him in action whenever anyone tries to hurt his wife or kid. Then it’s fucking terrifying.

“‘Sup, Mac?” I roll my eyes at Psycho, whose narrowed ones only make me want to fuck with him more. “You sick of your husband yet? You can always trade up.”

“I will cut you.” My brother in arms only mouths his words but the intensity of his stare makes them loud in my ears.

“Nah, I’ll keep him for a little while longer. I love you too much to have to watch him rip your heart right out of your chest.” I grin at Psycho’s smirk telling me he clearly heard her response. “But I’ll keep you in mind.” She whispers the last part so it stays a joke between us.

“Understood. How can I help?” My question makes Psycho relax even more as he lowers himself on his gas tank, his jaw resting in the palm of his hand.

“Maribel just called, worried.” In an instant, I’m on high alert.

“About?”

“Well, apparently Athena, and by the way, I ducking love her name, doesn’t have a social or any form of ID.” I guess the baby is nearby if she’s toning down her colorful language. “She tried to get a job today, and when she came back to Maribel’s she was confused about the paperwork she had to fill out.” It’s not uncommon for battered women not to have ID. Sometimes their significant others hide them or burn them in order to keep their control of them. In rare cases, they never had any to begin with. But that’s only if they were captives from a young age.

But that’s fucking rare. Like… less than one percent of the world population. I know because I studied it in college. Don’tget me wrong, it’s one percent too fucking many, but the chances of meeting someone’s who’s been a captive their whole life is next to none.

---