Midnight Hunter Book One in the Midnight Hunter Trilogy

Mo was nowhere in sight, so Donna texted her again.

  “Where r u?”

  She clicked her phone shut and stood in the corner watching for her friend's scruffy, blood-red hairstyle in a maze of other scruffy, colorful hairstyles. That's when Donna caught a glimpse of the new kid, Samee, who turned toward Donna and beamed just as Donna tried to look away. She waved excitedly and bounded over - bringing elation and glee to the very spot where Donna had been trying to hide from it.

  “Donna! Wow, it’s so great to see you here!”

  “Hi, Samee.” Donna's tone was dark.

  “Guess what? I'm here with your friend Rochelle.” As if on cue, Rochelle emerged from a throng of people and stood right next to Samee. Samee squeezed Rochelle like they were twin sisters separated at birth. Was it Donna’s imagination, or did Rochelle seem less bright and perhaps even less beautiful? Maybe it was the bubbling bottle of shook-up soda standing right next to her.

  Rochelle looked to either side of Donna. “Aren't you supposed to be here with Mo? Because I don't see the little porcupine-headed rodent anywhere.”

  “I bet our drinks are up,” Samee said. “I'll go check. You guys can stay here and talk.” She skipped toward the bar.

  Donna frowned at Rochelle. “Who is that girl, exactly?”

  “I thought you said you knew Samee.”

  “I barely met her,” Donna picked at a thumbnail. “But what I mean is why are you hanging out with a kid five years younger than you? Where is she from? Where does she live?”

  Rochelle perked up at that final question. “Speaking of that, do you know where Samee's house is?”

  Donna folded her arms. “No. That's why I just asked you.” What in the hell was wrong with Rochelle all of a sudden?

  Rochelle pushed blonde locks away from her face. She looked tired, hollow. “She lives in that old house on Autumn Lane over by your parents’ house.”

  Donna scoffed. “The bouncy little redhead lives in a creepy, old, haunted house on a dead-end road in the middle of nowhere...That's like something out of a stupid horror movie.”

  Rochelle laughed dryly. “Don't be mean just because you're jealous.”

  “I'm not jealous.”

  Just surprised at your interest in Samee. Okay, and maybe the tiniest bit jealous.

  Samee trotted back carrying a drink in each hand, smiling warmly.

  “Would you like to join us, Donna?”

  Rochelle stared blankly at Donna, who shook her head.

  “No, thanks. I'm meeting another friend.”

  “The one with the pokey-uppy hair?” Samee beamed, and Donna wondered how the cheery little twit knew so much about her. “Okay then. You two have fun.” She took Rochelle by the hand and they melted in with the crowd. Samee's enthusiasm toward her ex-roommate tugged at Donna. It seemed almost contrived. Nobody could be that happy and not be hiding secrets. She shook her head and sighed.

  Maybe Mo's suspicious nature is rubbing off on me. After last night's events, “suspicious” seemed a perfectly valid way to describe things.

  Donna made her way toward the back room because she assumed that's where Mo would assume she'd go. Gloom clung to the corners like cobwebs back there and Donna shivered, backed in a corner and crossed her arms. At least this way she could see danger coming from as many angles as possible. She could also see Mo coming at her, which Donna hoped would happen soon. Perhaps the would-be kidnapper with the perfectly chiseled jaw wouldn't even show up. That simultaneously relieved and saddened her. Immediately after that thought crossed her mind, Donna's neck hair stood. Why did she feel like she was being watched again? Where was that nosy waitress? Donna searched the back area until her gaze caught a shadow that slowly peeled itself from the wall and headed right toward her.

  “Why are you here when I expressly forbid it?”

  Donna scoffed. “What gives you the right to expressly forbid me to do anything?”

  He stared at her. She stared back. His three-day shadow didn't look a minute older than it had the night before, and tonight it accentuated sultry lips. He snickered, almost like he knew what she was thinking. Her cheeks warmed. Then he looked sharply to the right and growled, just like a wild animal sending out a warning signal to a predator.

  Donna turned to the right and saw nothing. “What are you looking at?” He ignored her, kept growling. “I said-”

  “I heard you,” he stopped growling.

  “Well then answer me.”

  “How's this for an answer? When you're not around your funny looking friend, you're an easy target.”

  “How do you know who I'm-?” Donna shut her mouth. The less she told this mysterious guy, the better. He smirked. “Why do I feel like you're reading my mind?” His broad shoulders shrugged. “Why do you keep saying I need to go home but then you won’t tell me anything else?” He remained silent. “Why don't you tell me who you are? Are you a cop? A private investigator? How about a fed? Are you from the FBI?”

  “My job is to take care of things.”

  “Did you take care of the man in the blue Toyota?” Donna's voice quivered, tears stung her eyes. “He's dead. Shot right in front of me. I don't know if I'll ever get the image out of my mind.”

  “I'm sorry,” he said in an unusually sympathetic tone. He placed a hand on her forehead. She tried to wiggle away, but he took hold of her bruised wrists. Why did everybody keep grabbing her there? “Close your eyes and breathe.” Donna didn't want to, but she did exactly as he asked. Her heartbeat slowed. The throbbing noise and pulsating lights from the dance floor faded. His breathing and hers slowly came together and became one. Donna could've sworn she even felt his heartbeat, but that was impossible. When he instructed Donna to open her eyes, she felt disoriented. But something else happened, too. Suddenly, bad memories of the shooter, the victim, and the evil police officers clouded over, became less real.

  Almost like those things never happened.

  Her wrists felt warm. She looked down at them; the bruising had faded.

  “How did you-?”

  “Go home,” he snarled.

  “What's your name?” She stared in his eyes, searching for something familiar.

  “Hunter.”

  “You're a Hunter?”

  He chuckled. “My name. You asked what it is. It's Hunter.”

  She blushed. “Oh. Hunter who?”

  “Just Hunter.”

  “Hunter with no last name?” He just shrugged. “Well Hunter-with-no-last-name, what did you just do to me?”

  “It's magic,” he shrugged again. But a playful twinkle danced across his eyes, and his mouth twisted into a lop-sided grin which made Donna's tummy tingle. “And if you want to thank me for it, you can do so by going home.”

  “How old are you?” She peered closely at his features. “Twenty-five?”

  “Good guess.”

  “So why are you in a club for high school kids?”

  “Why are you?” he asked back.

  Donna looked at the floor. “My friend dragged my here.”

  “Maybe mine did too,” he grinned.

  Donna chuckled. “No offense, but you seem like the kind of guy who hasn't got many friends.”

  “And you seem like the kind of girl who should go home now.”

  “Not unless you tell me why.” Hunter scoped the room. Donna scoped it too. “What are we looking for?”

  “Here's why you should go home,” Hunter hissed. “It's because people are not always what they say they are.”

  “Like guys named Hunter with no last name?” A storm rolled across his face but he didn't say a word, so Donna continued. “What kind of name is Hunter, anyhow? And what exactly is it you're hunting?”

  “Go home. Now.” He backed into the shadows....and took his mesmerizing eyes with him.

  “You have nice eyes, too.” his voice came from behind. But when she whirled around to ask how he'd done it again, no one was there. Donna's mouth gaped in astonishment, but befo
re she had time to absorb what had just happened, Mo shoved through a group of kids on the dance floor and ran to her, breathless.

  “Was that him?” she panted. “It was, wasn’t it? I can tell, because the color is drained from your face. You look awful.” Mo scrunched her nose.

  “Thanks.”

  “He's really tall,” Mo exclaimed. “Did he try to take you?”

  “You don't know?” Donna's tone revealed her irritation. “I thought my best friend was watching out for me.”

  “Oh please.” Mo rolled her eyes. “I got over here as fast as I possibly could.”

  Donna raised an eyebrow. “Well, he's not the one.”

  Mo shook her head frantically. “How do you know?”

  “Because he still didn't try to take me. He's had his chance twice now,” she glowered at Mo, “while nobody was looking.”

  Mo slumped in a chair and sighed. “Maybe he just isn't in the kidnapping mood again,” she speculated.

  Donna narrowed her eyes. “If I didn't know better, I'd almost get the feeling you want him to take me.”

  “Don't be ridiculous.” A concentrated look crossed her face. “He could be lying. It's not like he would admit to kidnapping tall blondes while he's talking to one.”

  “I already thought of that,” Donna chewed on her ring fingernail and hated that she'd regressed back to the old habit. “Call it intuition or whatever you want, but he's not the guy.”

  “Donna, what aren't you telling me?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Mo peered suspiciously. “I've known you for...” she counted on her fingers, and then ran out. “A long time. You can't lie without me knowing it.”

  “Look who's talking about lies. If I had a dollar for every lie you've ever told, I'd be rich.”

  “You are rich, dummy.”

  “My parents are rich. I'm too poor for my own apartment.” Donna folded her arms defiantly. “And he's not the one, so the subject of Hunter is closed.”

  “The subject of who?”

  “The kidnapper.” Donna shook her head. “I mean, the not kidnapper.”

  Mo grimaced. “Why didn't you just say so?”

  “I am saying so.”

  Mo rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Hey, did you know Rochelle's here? She's chumming around with some little high school girl.”

  “That's Samee.”

  Mo scrunched her nose. “Well then, she’s chumming around with some little high school girl named Sadie.”

  “Samee, not Sadie.”

  “Whatever. Rochelle is practically old enough to be little Sally's mother.”

  “Samee.”

  “It's pretty sad that your ex-roommate's hanging around with a high school kid, like nobody her own age wants her.” Mo picked between her teeth with a pinkie nail. “Do I have food stuck anywhere?” She pulled back her lips.

  “You look like a horse face when you do that.”

  “Better a horse's face than its ass.” Mo pounded a fist on the table. “Well, this night is just bad all the way around. I really thought we'd get the kidnapper.”

  “But we didn't. And it's probably a good thing because what would we have done if we had?” Mo stared off in space, so Donna repeated the question. When Mo still didn't answer, Donna snapped her fingers across Mo's field of vision. Mo looked, but her mind was miles away. “Oh no,” Donna said. “Your brain is working double time.” Whenever Mo did that, it never led to any good. It led to things like a five-year-old Mo convincing Donna to hold her cat while she waxed his legs. It led to throwing rotten eggs at the school principal when the girls were ten. It led to chasing scary kidnappers that even the cops wouldn't touch. “Mo?” Donna repeated.

  “Give me a minute,” Mo shook her head. “I'm just thinking.”

  Donna clenched her teeth and groaned. “I'm sick of this kidnapper crap. I just want everything to go back to normal. I'm going to the bathroom now and while I'm gone, I want you to sit here and think things through. We could be in danger if we keep this up, Mo. And I know that doesn't bother you as much as it bothers me, but it does bother me a lot. So, I'm not making one more move until we know we can get the guy without anybody getting hurt. And honestly, I don't know if we can do that because I don't know how much trust I have in the cops.”

  She looked up. “So you agree they're useless.”

  “I agree they might not be not doing their public servant job all that well.” Donna didn’t elaborate because she knew it would only raise Mo’s suspicions. She hurried to the bathroom, but the line was clear to the dance floor. “Shit,” she muttered, then remembered the small, single bathroom that was hidden toward the back, used mainly by staff. In fact, it was unmarked and hardly any paying customers even knew it was there, but since Donna spent so much time in the back, she knew. She dashed to the back room, half expecting Hunter to emerge from the darkness and chastise her for going pee instead of going home. But instead of him, she saw a waitress who got to the bathroom first. Donna waited outside the door and shifted from foot to foot, doing what Mo called the “pee-pee dance.” She glanced around the room until her gaze caught the emergency exit door next to the bathroom. She'd noticed it before, but never paid much attention. The waitress emerged, smiling politely at Donna.

  “All yours,” she said.

  Donna used the restroom then stood in front of the emergency door, staring at it. The strongest urge to see what was on the other side compelled her. She leaned against the press bar. The door didn't open. She leaned harder. It still didn't open. She pushed hard against it, but it still didn't budge. So she shoved against the door with all her weight. This time the door flew wide open and Donna fell outside, tripping over the threshold, twisting her ankle and falling on her butt.

  Shit!

  The door slammed shut and Donna was in an alley on the wrong side of that stupid door...which had no outside handle. The alley was dark, chilly and a thick smell - stale chicken? - hung in the air. There was another smell, too. Like something had died back there. Donna covered her nose with one hand, pulled out the phone with the other and called Mo.

  “This is Mo. I'd like to take your call, but I'm busy raising hell and pissing -”

  “Damn you, Mo!” Donna slammed the phone shut. “I suppose there's no sense in texting,” she said to a passing cockroach. Everything echoed in that alley so that when Donna croaked out a timid “Hello?” each brick answered. She and the cockroach weren't alone back there, either. A rat scurried past her foot. She shrieked, and then blushed.

  It's just a rat. Why get hysterical?

  Another rat snacked on something next to a trash can outside the back door of a Chinese restaurant. A wind gust whipped an empty soda can against the wall, and a porn magazine lay open by where Donna had fallen. The centerfold girl was tall and blonde.

  “Donna...” His voice boomed from above and it clattered against the bricks.

  “Who's there?” But she already knew.

  “Donna!” This time the voice sounded different, and it came from the street. A tall, dark figure ran down the alley, directly at her. It came fast. She tried to stand and run, but before she even had time to get to her knees, he loomed above her.

  “Are you trying to get killed?” he scolded. “Or worse?”

  “Worse? What's worse than getting killed?” Donna waited for an answer, but he just kept scowling. “How do you know my name, Hunter?”

  He knelt down and scooped an arm under Donna's legs, another against her back. Her nose was inches from his chest, from his wildly thumping heart. And there was that smell again - so familiar - like cloves.

  “What are you doing?” She tried to push him away. He didn’t let her.

  “You're hurt. I'm getting you out of here.”

  “Put me down.”

  “I'm not leaving you here.” Hunter carried Donna clear down the alley and she protested the whole way. He crossed the street and filtered through the sidewalks until they reached her
car, which they did in almost no time.

  “How did you get here so fast?” Donna demanded. “And how did you know this is my car? Are you stalking me?” Hunter lowered her to the passenger seat, then entered on the driver's side and started the engine. Donna reached for the key attached to the strap with the horse emblem on it. “How did you get the key from my back pocket?” He still didn't answer. “I have to go back and get Mo.” Hunter reached across her and fumbled for the lap belt which made Donna feel tingly, and trapped. Hunter clipped the belt then turned his attention to driving. He turned his head to back out of the parking spot and it made his jaw line look even more pronounced.

  “That friend of yours doesn't need a ride from you.” He finally said. “She'll get one from her boyfriend.”

  “What boyfriend?”

  “The guy she keeps talking to.”

  “James?” Donna laughed despite the feeling that there was a rock in her stomach. “He's not her boyfriend.”

  “Either way, she's too busy with him to worry about you.” He turned the Mustang left at Broad Street.

  “You're wrong. Mo would not forget about me. Especially not after I almost decapitated her for leaving me stranded with...” Donna trailed off.

  “With me?” The Mustang’s interior lit up red against the neon Bar-B-Q Barn sign on the corner of Broad Street and Main.

  “Stop doing that,” Donna snapped.

  “Stop doing what?”

  “Reading my mind, or whatever you're doing that feels like mind reading.” Donna looked out the window and chewed on her thumb nail. They passed The West Windington Mall. “Where are you taking me?”

  “Home.”

  “You don't even know where I live.” Hunter sped through a stop sign and cut off an 18-wheel truck. “My car!” She covered her eyes.

  Hunter scoffed. “There's a madman kidnapping women who look like you and you're worried about your car?”

  “How do I know that madman isn't you?”

  “You don't, which is exactly why you should stay at home where these questions won't have to come up.”

  “So...are you the kidnapper?”

  “No.”

  “If you're not the kidnapper, then are you a rapist?”

  He shook his head no.

  “A serial killer?”

  Hunter chuckled. “You've got me pegged for all the bad guy positions. How flattering.”

  “What else do you expect me to think?”

  “I don't care what you think. I just want you to do what I say.”

  Donna giggled nervously. “So you're the boss of me, now? Is that it?”

  Hunter didn't respond.

  Donna's dad had given her a travel-sized bottle of pepper spray for Christmas last year and insisted she take it everywhere she went. Donna had tossed it in her bag, and then forgotten all about it - until now. Her bag was safely tucked behind the driver's seat because all she ever took inside the club was her identification, keys, and phone. The challenge now would be to come up with a reasonable excuse why she needed her bag.

  Donna cleared her throat. “Want a breath mint?”

  Hunter chuckled. “What are you trying to tell me?”

  “Suit yourself,” she tried to shrug casually. “But I want one.”

  “Well then, go right ahead.”

  She reached for the bag but it was stuck behind the driver's seat because Hunter had pushed the seat back and squashed the bag behind it.

  Damn your long legs, mysterious, Greek god guy!

  Hunter snickered under his breath, or maybe it was a sniffle. Donna didn’t want to freak herself out any more so she decided on the latter. She pushed her hand inside the bag and groped until she found her hairbrush, wallet, and the damned breath mints. She pushed all that aside, fumbled some more. A bracelet she thought she'd lost months ago, some dental floss, ah-ha! Way at the bottom, the tiny cylinder. Donna grasped it tight, brought her arm from the bag, and pushed the cylinder at Hunter's face.

  “Pull over!”

  Hunter observed the cylinder, raised an eyebrow. “And if I don't?”

  “Then you'll get a face full of this.” He swerved, and then laughed. Donna screamed. The cylinder flew from her hand and went right between Hunter's legs. She groped wildly for it.

  He chuckled. “We barely know each other, but thanks for the offer.”

  Donna blushed and snapped back her hand. Hunter smiled crookedly, reached between his legs and picked up the cylinder. He deposited it in her lap. That's when Donna saw it wasn't the pepper spray at all. Her face reddened. She pushed the tampon to the floor and covered her face in her hands.

  “Please, just kill me now.”

  “If you only knew the lengths I'm going to in order for that not to happen this time around.”

  “This time around?” Donna frowned. The car slowed, Hunter turned left at Sunflower Street, and that's when Donna's nervous chuckle gave way to concern. “You even know where I live. How do you know where I live?” Hunter fumbled for the garage door button. The garage was empty, so showing up with a strange guy in the driver's seat of her new birthday present would not raise any eyebrows at Donna's parents' house. In fact, she was starting to wonder if it even was her parents’ house anymore when she was the only one ever in it. Hunter pulled in and shut down the engine. Donna opened the passenger door to get out but before she could place her good foot on the floor, Hunter was already by her side, kneeling in front of her, reaching for her foot.

  “What are you doing?” Donna tried to tug away, but he wrapped his hand around her ankle, gently.

  Oh crap! Did I even bother to shave at all this week?

  “Your legs are perfect,” he whispered.

  “How come you know what I'm thinking?”

  “Shhhh.” Hunter held Donna's ankle and carefully rubbed it. Within a second, warmth radiated from his hands and made her ankle tingle, and then her calf did, too. The feeling spiraled upward, around Donna's knee, across her thigh, then higher. She felt aroused.

  “How does that feel?” Hunter asked in a quiet, calm tone.

  You can't even begin to know how it feels… Donna hoped. Her breathing quickened, her pulse did too. She closed her eyes and moaned. She wanted more. Needed more.

  Hunter, please don't stop.

  He stopped.

  “I'm sorry,” he whispered.

  Donna opened her eyes. “What did I do wrong?”

  Hunter didn't answer. He just backed against the wall, wearing a hooded expression, like a predator. Like his name. He pulled his fingers through his hair, took a deep breath and came back to her. “Take my hands.”

  “Why?” But Donna did what he asked. He pulled her up from the Mustang's seat.

  “How does that ankle feel?”

  She shifted from one foot to the other and then smiled. “No pain at all. How did you do that?”

  “It's a secret.”

  “What isn't a secret with you, Hunter-with-no-last-name?”

  Before he could answer, Hunter got a text message. He read it then grinned lopsidedly at Donna.

  “I have to go,” he said. Her heart sank. Probably one of his girlfriends had just summoned him. “But I want to see you again. How does tomorrow night sound?”

  Her heart skipped a beat. Why not tomorrow morning?

  “I'm not a morning person,” he answered. Donna shook her head. Had she said that out loud? The past two days had been so crazy, she couldn’t even be sure. “How does 8:00 pm sound, at the park a couple blocks from here? What’s it called? The Commons?”

  “Yeah, The Commons.” Donna nodded too vigorously and she smiled too wide. “I'll be there.” Hunter stepped outside. “How will you get home without a car?”

  “I'll walk.”

  “You live nearby?” Donna asked hopefully.

  He turned away. “Don't let anybody in tonight. And close the garage door.”

  “Do you want a ride?”

  ??
?Close the door,” he said again.

  “You never told me how you know my name or how you know where-”

  “Close the door, now.”

  Donna felt annoyed by his demands, but attracted by his concern. She didn't know which force tugged at her more.

  Well, yes I do.

  She smiled, punched the door button, and the door shut. She didn't want to stop looking at Hunter’s broad shoulders, or his adorable butt cheeks and the way they flexed and rounded with each step. So she stared through the garage door window until Hunter-with-no-last-name disappeared into the night. Then she continued to stare in the direction he'd gone until her phone rang. She flipped it open.

  “Hi Mo,” she answered.

  “Where are you?” What was Donna supposed to say? That she was home safe and sound while she'd left her best friend at The Dark Side all alone?

  “Um-”

  “Do you think you can get home safely by yourself?” Mo sounded breathless.

  “Well-”

  “Good. Because Jamie and I want to check out a few other clubs, see if any girls have gone missing from there, too.” It was just like Hunter had said, Mo was busy with James. Jamie. Whatever.

  “I...okay. You guys be careful. It's getting weird out there.”

  “Tell me about it,” Mo exclaimed and then hung up. Donna set the alarm, trudged upstairs then went to bed in an empty house.

  Darkness permeated the woods, and so did the chill that went clear to her bones. Donna wrapped her arms tightly around herself. Clouds parted, letting filtered moonlight pierce the forest. His face stayed sheltered by shadows so she couldn’t see him. Nonetheless, he stood right in front of her, smelling like rotten flesh and growling like a rabid animal. It shook needles from the trees.

  “What business do you have with the Warrior?” he demanded.

  “Warrior?” Donna shivered.

  “Stop pissing me off with stupid answers.”

  “Stop pissing me off with stupid questions.” Something that felt like a 2x4 smashed against Donna's cheek, knocking her to the ground. He loomed above, spat in her face. It smelled like death and made her choke. “When will you ever stop this nonsense, Donna?”

  She wiped spit from her cheek. “What do you want from me?”

  “I want you to stop wrecking everything again.” And with that, he lifted a boot and kicked her left temple with the steel toe. Everything went black.

  chapter seven