Hunted: A Criminal Deeds Novel Read online

  Hunted

  A Criminal Deeds Novel

  Kyle Autumn

  Copyright © 2019 by Kyle Autumn

  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 written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Contents

  1. Zane

  2. Willow

  3. Zane

  4. Willow

  5. Zane

  6. Willow

  7. Zane

  8. Willow

  9. Zane

  10. Willow

  11. Zane

  12. Hanna Lee

  13. Zane

  14. Hanna Lee

  15. Zane

  16. Hanna Lee

  17. Zane

  18. Hanna Lee

  19. Zane

  20. Hanna Lee

  21. Zane

  22. Hanna Lee

  23. Zane

  24. Hanna Lee

  Epilogue

  Sneak Peek of Favors, Strings, & Lies

  Also by Kyle Autumn

  About the Author

  1

  Zane

  When I get the call, I’m ready. Everything that’s happened in my life has led me to this. It’s my opportunity to put things right in my world.

  Catching this woman for my boss will relieve some of the ache in my bones.

  The pure fucking hatred I have flowing through my veins.

  The rage boiling my blood on a daily basis.

  In my truck, I crack my neck and stretch out my abused muscles. Then I wait for her vehicle to appear on the highway in my rearview. When it does, I pull back onto the road.

  And I follow her.

  Adrenaline pumps through my system as I stay three car-lengths behind her. I have explicit instructions to return her to my boss in any condition necessary. Whatever it takes to track her down, capture her, and get her back to him.

  Whatever it fucking takes.

  Those were his words, and I’m not above taking them literally.

  She flicks her blinker on at the next exit and pulls off the highway. The darkness surrounding us keeps me and my ill intentions well hidden, but I’ve been advised that she’s a sneaky, clever one. She’s trying to stay hidden, and so far, she’s done a shit job at it—but my boss has allowed her to think she’s steps ahead of him when, in fact, she’s not. Otherwise, I wouldn’t know where she is right now.

  Oh, but I do.

  I’m on her trail.

  And she has no idea.

  No idea at all what’s in store for her.

  Her M.O. has been seedy motels in the middle of nowhere, which is why I was called in. In my Podunk, Oklahoma, town, we have plenty of those. Her boss was smart enough to think she’d flee this way. And she did. But after her stop to get a room, she gets back in the car and takes off. Then I’m left wondering what the hell she thinks she’s doing.

  Two minutes later, I have a good idea.

  She pulls her car into the local dive bar. Maybe she’s gotten sick of being alone. Or maybe she’s asking for directions. Her cell hasn’t been on the grid since she took off. Neither have her credit cards—not that she needs them anyway. With the amount of money she stole from my boss, she’ll never need a credit card for as long as she lives.

  Though she may not live that much longer.

  Not with me on her trail.

  She might have gotten past three other henchmen. But not me. Not with all of this pent-up fury waiting to fucking explode all over her.

  With white knuckles on the steering wheel, I watch as the target approaches the bar. I’m not sure what she’s getting at by going inside. If she thinks she can fool me, she has another fucking thing coming. I’m not that easy to throw off the trail.

  What is easy is seeing why my boss fell for this bitch in the first place.

  Some men just can’t keep their dicks in their pants. Then they go and get into messes like this shit. But not me. I’ve learned my damn lesson. That shit won’t happen on my watch.

  All that’s happening on my watch is one fucking thing:

  Her demise.

  2

  Willow

  As the bar’s door shuts behind me, my heart pounds in my chest. I wipe my sweaty hands on my yoga pants as I rush to the back, my bag slung over my shoulder. Keeping my head down, I locate the bathroom while staying aware of my surroundings. Once I’m finally inside, I pick the first open stall and slam the lock into place.

  Only now can I take a breath.

  A deep, shuddering breath against the gum-covered door of a dirty, dingy bathroom stall in a dive bar in the middle of Fuck All, Oklahoma.

  If Adam could see me know, he’d tell me that this is all I deserve. This is what I get for being a whore. A fucking cunt. A cock-sucking bitch. I was never my real name. Not even the name he bestowed up on me when he locked me in.

  Willow. Like a billowing tree blowing in the wind, easily swayed. Easily trapped. Stuck in one place.

  Those words hiss in my mind as if he’s speaking them into my ears, and it scares me enough that I flick my head in both directions in a total panic. But no, he’s not here.

  I’m all alone.

  Just me, my bag, my racing heart, and my ragged nerves.

  I put my hand to my forehead, but pain shoots through the skin there and I suck air in. Somehow, I forgot about the giant healing bruise from my eyebrow to my hairline. Tears build in my eyes, and I go to wipe them, but I remember just in time that that will hurt too. My eye’s no longer black, but a sickening purplish green. Three days have given me a little time to heal, but it hasn’t been enough.

  Time can’t heal all wounds. Some will never, ever go away.

  The door to the bathroom creaks open and then slams against the wall. My heart jumps into my throat and I snap away from the stall door, jolting back to motion. I came here to pee, not trusting a bathroom at a gas station this time. I’m certain someone’s following me, but I am hoping this throws them off. If I can’t keep them off my trail, this will have to do for now. I’ll keep them guessing until I can figure out my next move.

  After pulling my pants back up, I carefully slip the lock open and push through the door. Giggling women probably in their late forties lean against the wall, their frizzy red hair falling into their drowsy eyes. One of them starts washing their hands in the sink beside me, her gaze flicking over to me in a barely hidden way. When she opens her mouth, a black gap where one of her teeth should be is no longer camouflaged.

  “You don’t look like you belong here,” the other one says to me even though I haven’t looked at them.

  “I’m not staying long.” I shut the water off and reach for a paper towel from the dispenser. Nothing’s there though, so I shake my hands over the sink and wipe them over my sweatshirt.

  The woman with wet hands goes into the middle stall and returns with a wad of toilet paper. As she dries her skin, bits of white stick and stay behind. Then she tosses it into the trash before opening the door just enough for her and her friend. “Good. This is our place.”

  Keeping my gaze down, I don’t let my brow furrow. Is she threatening me? Threatened by me? I’m absolutely nothing to worry about. I’ll be in and out, and then I’ll be on the road. To where? I have no idea. I don’t even care.

  Maybe I’ll head to the next airport. Somewhere Adam won’t think I’ll go. Then I’ll take the next flight to anywhere. Alaska, Russia, North Korea. I have no preference.
>
  Anything would be better than here.

  Alone again, I dare to lift my gaze. The woman staring back at me in the mirror is completely recognizable. She’s exactly the woman I’ve become after three years under Adam’s torturous reign. Meek, bruised, broken. Sullen, submissive, and damaged.

  With cracked fingernails and shaking fingers, I tuck some of my short, hacked-off hair behind my ears. The new black sheen somehow gleams in the dim, dull light overhead. Dye still clings to my skin like a tattoo of this new life. If that’s the price of admission, it’s the least of my problems.

  Gripping the sink, I hang my head and stagger my legs. When did I let this become my life? How did I let Adam terrorize me for that long? Why did I let myself become this scared, shriveled shell of a woman?

  Fuck.

  There’s no time for questioning this. I only have time to get farther away before I feel comfortable enough to take another breath.

  After a final stare in the mirror, glimpsing my shattered soul in my eyes, I stand tall and adjust the bag over my shoulder. I can’t control what’s already happened to me, but I need to find some kind of control now. I haven’t had it for so long that I almost wouldn’t know what to do with it when I get it again, but something has to give. I’m so fucking tired of feeling so fucking tired and defeated. I need some kind of confidence back, and waiting until I’m far enough away from my abuser will only make me wait forever.

  I’ll never be far enough away. Even death won’t be sufficient.

  With that thought screaming in the back of my mind, I huff out a breath and storm toward the door. Adam has taken enough away from me. I’m fed the fuck up, so I won’t let him steal anything else from my life. And if he wants to call me a whore when he eventually catches up to me—because I’m deluding myself if I think he won’t—then I’m going to make sure I am one.

  Before I can tell myself how ridiculous that is—how dangerous it is to play with fire—I make the decision. One of the men out there is getting lucky tonight. Even if it’s the man Adam’s sent for me. Especially if it’s the man he’s sent for me. A whore would fuck her husband’s employees, wouldn’t she? Then sign me up.

  If only I could be so lucky.

  Taking a deep breath, I swing the door open, resolved to get someone to take me home for one last night of freedom and salacious behavior before I’m dragged by what’s left of my hair back to the man who’ll finally put me out of my misery. Running away may have officially signed my death warrant, but it’d been on the table since the day I met my husband.

  I should have known, but I’m done with blaming myself. It didn’t get me out of this mess. That was my dedication to meticulously documenting Adam’s routine and finding the only blind spot in it. Now, I have to move forward.

  Except there’s a brick wall in the doorway of the bar’s bathroom when I try to do just that.

  Thick cords of muscle run all throughout this man’s body. His T-shirt sticks to him like a second skin. With his hand on the doorframe, he’s blocking me in. When I raise my eyes, the rough, jagged edges of his coal-black gaze pierce mine.

  And I realize he’s the perfect man to reassert my control with.

  Digging deep, I summon the courage to stand strong in front of him. I wrap slick fingers around the collar of his jacket, and then I pull his face toward mine, my breath shallow but steady. All I can smell is this man. He’s woodsy, full of musk and dangerous. And for the first time since I fled from Adam’s home—it never was mine—my heart isn’t beating out of my chest. Instead, it’s calm, finding its normal rhythm in the presence of this man who could break me in half with the flick of his wrist.

  Maybe that’s the way I like it. That’s what I’m attracted to. Men who can destroy me in one way, shape, or form. So maybe that’s why I’ve picked this guy.

  With his mouth a whisper away, I say, “Take me home,” in a soft but powerful voice. No nonsense. I mean it and there’s no getting out of it.

  He hesitates for only a moment, grinding his jaw as if he’s warring with his conscience. No, strike that. I doubt a man like this even has one. The only thing I see in his eyes is pain. Rage might swirl in his irises too, but the pain takes precedence. I’m sure it’s exactly why we’ve found each other in this middle-of-nowhere hick town.

  People like us gravitate toward each other. So he’ll be the perfect person to give me exactly what I’m craving: the thinly veiled desire to be controlled like I’m used to while claiming I want to do the controlling.

  It’s been so long since I’ve gotten anything I want that I’m not sure how to do any of this. But this man doesn’t make it that difficult. He wraps his long, thick fingers around my wrist and tugs me in the direction of the door, past the frizzy redheads from the bathroom. I keep my head down again as I follow behind him—not like I have any choice. I likely made the only choice I’ll get to make tonight.

  And that should scare me. It should terrify me. But nothing can be worse than Adam.

  Famous last words?

  I guess we’ll see.

  3

  Zane

  What the fuck is wrong with this woman? Willow.

  Her name crackles on my tongue like dynamite, but I can’t let on that I know who she is. Instead, I drag her through the bar, leading her right into the lion’s den. She has no idea what’s coming. No idea at all.

  Take me home.

  Those words ring in my ears as I pull her out the door. At my car, I still don’t let her go. If she figures out who I am and what I’m supposed to do with her, then she’ll try to run and we can’t have that. Well, she can’t. I wouldn’t mind this getting a little…

  Messy.

  My boss called me in for a reason. I get shit done. Whatever it fucking takes, just like he wants.

  One last time.

  I make her get inside the car before heading around to the driver’s side. It’s almost too easy that she’s already in my possession, but I won’t take it for granted. I won’t let her escape now that I have her.

  Does she know who I am? What I’m supposed to do with her? Is she tired of running already? Does home mean back to my boss? Or does home mean that shitty fleabag motel she stopped at before this bar?

  Or does it mean my place?

  Fuck it. I don’t care what it means. I’m taking her back to my place first. It’s too late to look normal at the airport to catch a flight back to New York. It’ll be better to do that in the morning.

  After a night of her handcuffed to my bed so she can’t escape.

  She did that once with my boss, but between the two of us, we’ll make sure she never does that again.

  Meekly, she puts her seat belt on as I start the car. The bag around her shoulder rests in her lap, her arms clutching it to her body. The body I tried not to notice when she pressed it against me in the bathroom doorway. I’ve been tricked by lithe bodies and sweet voices before. That shit won’t work on me. Not again. Not when so much is at stake.

  When your boss offers for you to keep the money his bitch stole from him if you can find her, you don’t fuck around.

  That shit could get me out of this business.

  As much as I’ve enjoyed ripping people to pieces and ridding the world of the scum it produced, I’m done. I’ve got this last one in me—a woman this time—to release the rage inside me and finish this once and for all. Through this woman, I’ll find my revenge, the revenge I wasn’t granted the first time. And then I’ll move on.

  How? I have no fucking idea. I haven’t thought that far ahead. All I want to do is disappear when this is over.

  Maybe I’ll move to Alaska and become a logger. Go to Russia and get into construction. Something brutal I can do with my hands would be good, but I have to get through this first. Get my sweet, sweet revenge on this woman who dared to steal from the man I work for.

  She made a big mistake. A few of them, it seems, now that I have her right where I need her.

  The drive to my house is dea
thly quiet. Does she know she’s being led to slaughter? Can she no longer put up the fight? Is she ready to give up and call it what it is: over for her? I can’t tell. She’s chewing on her thumbnail, her knee bobbing up and down in a nervous twitch. She stares out the window the whole time, and as I pull into my driveway, she aims her gaze at her lap, her hands flat on her thighs like she’s preparing herself for what’s to come.

  What is to come? It all depends on how well she behaves. How easy she makes this for me.

  Personally, I’m hoping for a fight.

  It’s why I let her open the door and get out without worrying too much about it. If she thought she was in the middle of nowhere before, she had no idea what she was in for. This is truly the middle of nowhere.

  My house is on three hundred acres full of trees and brush and a pond hidden behind high grasses.

  Good luck finding your way back to the main road, Willow.

  The moment I’m close enough, I grab her wrist again. Maybe she won’t make it off my property in the pitch black without dying, but what’s the fun in that? It’ll be on my fucking terms. And I don’t want to have to chase this woman in the dark.

  Oh, I will if I have to. But I’d rather not.

  Even when I open the door, I don’t take my hand off her. When I flip the light on, it illuminates just enough of the house that we can see the stairs that lead to the bedrooms and also the hall that would take us into the kitchen. But there’s no need for the latter, so I drag her straight upstairs to the last door on the right.