Ready Or Not (The Hunter’s Club #2)

Chapter 1

1

Awkward - ChewieCatt, Chewie

The pit stains under my arms feel so big there’s no way my date can’t see them. I should have known better than to try and socialize. Ben, the date in question, laughs at something he said, although I haven’t been paying attention. He raises his eyebrows at me and continues laughing, so I assume he told a joke.

I force a laugh.

“You should have seen their faces.” Ben slaps the bar countertop next to his third empty glass, making me jump. He waves two fingers at the bartender. “Another.”

Hell, no . I hate every second of this, and I pick at the sticky countertop. I want to go home. Home where the music isn’t blaring so loud, my clothes don’t stick to my skin, and the furniture doesn’t feel like it has years of sticky beer all over it.

I suck in a breath. But I can’t go home. I owe it to Cali. She disappeared a week ago, and I can’t get any information on her. The cops won’t talk to me, her family won’t talk to me, and there’s just…nothing. Nothing except her final phone call to me saying she was in trouble. She asked me to meet her, then just…poof. Gone.

The bartender slides another drink to Ben.

Ben, aka Cali’s ex-boyfriend. The one who was wildly suspicious at the time of her disappearance.

I haven’t slept in a week.

So I did something stupid.

Something utterly idiotic, given that I fit into society like a two-by-four in a pack of colored pencils. Also, given the fact that I hate people and make either aggressive eye contact or none at all.

I invited Ben on a date.

Yeah, the Ben who has anger issues and the Ben who Cali broke up with a week before she disappeared.

Everyone is telling me it’s nothing, that Cali’s just taking a break after her breakup, but after her frantic call to me, I’m sure there’s foul play.

Cali used to work with me at the hair salon and was always nice to me despite the fact I never really seemed to fit in. She had wild, curly hair, a loud mouth, and a massive fucking attitude. She cussed out many customers who gave me shit and stood up for me to our boss. I fucking loved her.

The bartender sweeps back over our way like a breath of fresh air. Ben’s saying something about the sports game on the TV, but I lock on the woman in front of me like a lifeline. She has on a crop top with ghosts and the word “boo-bies.” The shirt barely contains her breasts, and they damn near spill out of the top. I wish my tits looked like that. If they did, I’m pretty sure I could navigate all social situations with a shimmy of the titties and a smile. No pit stains anywhere in sight.

Something nudges my arm, and I jump. It’s Ben. “You’ve barely had any.” He motions at my glass of wine.

I try to pretend like I’m loving this and plaster on a smile, taking another drink.

“So…” Ben takes another look at me, and I realize he keeps staring at the blue streaks in my dark hair. “You live alone?”

“Yep,” I respond, popping the p. As soon as the word is out of my mouth, I realize he probably asked for something other than a factual answer. I glance over at him.

“Good, ‘cause I’m crashing with my parents right now.” Ben’s face is flushed red, and his hair is pale blonde. It looks sweaty. He wiggles his eyebrows at me. “Wanna get out of here?”

Jesus. Dread washes through me, but I struggle to keep it off my face. This is exactly what I wanted to happen. If I can get him drunk and comfortable, maybe he’ll talk. And if not, at least at home I have a block of kitchen knives. If it came to it, I wonder how hard it would be to push a knife through his skin? I suppose that would entirely depend on the sharpness of my knives.

“Uh, hello?” Ben waves a hand in my face.

Fuck. I must be doing that thing again where my face goes blank while I’m thinking. I plaster on a smile and drop off my stool, “Yeah, let’s go.”

“Hold up,” Ben slaps his hand down on the counter. “Need my card.”

The bartender glances over at me, and I imagine all she’s seeing is a girl falling out of her chair to go home with a mediocre frat guy. Just another Wednesday.

I wince.

“Let’s go.” Ben grabs my elbow, and I yank it away from him. Immediately, I laugh awkwardly, skirting away from him and picking at the skin around my nails. I don’t want him to touch me again.

As soon as we get to the parking lot and are surrounded by the hot, dry air, I realize that Ben’s drunk, and we drove separately. And he’s gonna have to come to my house.

No. No, no, no .

He already reeks of stale beer and sweat. If I’m stuck in a car with that smell, I will throw up. I dig my nails into the skin around my thumb, the sharp bite of pain keeping me from spiraling more.

“I’ll drive,” I offer weakly.

Ben laughs harshly, “No way, buttercup. I’m the gentleman here.”

My skin prickles. “I need my car.”

“As do I.”

I lock eyes with his watery blue ones. “You follow me?”

He shrugs. “Fine.”

On the drive back, I keep worrying that Ben will crash and I won’t get the information I need. I keep checking in the mirror, but Ben doesn’t swerve. Cali hinted he might be a habitual drinker.

I bite the skin around my index finger. What in the actual hell am I doing? Somehow, I didn’t think we would actually get this far. I haven’t done anything like this in…well, like ever. I mostly keep to myself, and I like it that way.

We get back to my house, and for a second, I just sit there and think about driving away, hiding at the grocery store or the corner gas station, and pretending like this never happened. It would be so much easier.

But Cali can’t do that. She’s missing, and no one is helping her. And for that reason, I get out. Ben’s waiting, and when I walk up the steps, he palms my ass. It makes all my muscles lock up, and fire shoots through me. I want to run and fight, but that would ruin everything I have going. Instead, I just let us in the house and resist the urge to bite my nails.

My house is modest, a one-story ranch, but I’ve made it my own. I’ve thrifted and shopped estate sales for most of the furniture and decor, including my orange couch and dark wood furniture. The Halloween decorations I got from the dollar store actually fit well with my witchy decor.

Ben runs his hand along the Halloween ghosts I have set up, and I glare at him. He’s knocking them out of the careful lines I’ve set them up in.

“Want a drink?” I ask, mostly to get him away from my things, and then I move to the kitchen.

As I feel Ben’s presence in my house, my brain screams stupid . So stupid. So fucking stupid. I’m alone with a man in my home. I mean, I told my mom I had a date and sent her Ben’s picture, but what’s my mom gonna do? Beat him over the head with her TV remote? Then, in the next minute, forget she met him and ask his name?

I turn on the video on my phone, put it in my back pocket, and pull a beer out of the fridge. My shirt is still soaked under my arms, although I tried to get the AC to air it out on the way over. It may be fall in Oklahoma, but it’s still hot as balls.

Ben takes the beer from me. I duck back into the fridge for one for myself, saying, “Cali liked Miller Lite, too.”

Ben’s face flushes as he cracks it open. “You heard from her?”

“I was kinda hoping you had.” I lean against my sink. Just talk about this, and then he can go. It’ll be over soon.

Ben runs his hand through his hair. “Not a word.”

That better not be because she’s dead.

I plaster a smile on. “Did you see her on the 6th?”

Ben guzzles his beer, glancing around. “Wanna give me a tour?”

I tighten my fingers on my beer. “I haven’t cleaned up.”

Ben snorts. “I don’t care.” He saunters closer to me. “As long as you’re cleaned up downstairs, I don’t care a bit.” He winks, a grin on his face.

My cheeks flame, and for a second, I’m speechless. How dare he? How fucking dare he? He just had the hottest girl around on his arm, then she disappeared, and he’s hitting on me ?

Putting my beer on the counter, I move to the side to get away from him. Ben steps into me, pinning me against the marble. His body is hot, and his beer breath brushes across my face. “You’re pretty, you know that?”

I hold my breath and try to scoot away, shoving against him. “I…”

Suddenly, Ben’s big hands are all over my breasts. He’s fondling them, gripping and gently pinching. “These are cute. I like small things.”

I cry out, shoving hard against him. In his inebriated state, Ben takes a stuttering step back.

“Hey, baby.” Ben immediately comes back, pinning me against the counter. “What’s wrong?”

“Get off me.” His body is damp with sweat, and I feel it on every inch of my skin. It makes panic race through me. His slightly sticky shirt makes me want to scratch all my skin off.

“What?” Ben grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him. His grip is soft, with just enough pressure that I can’t get away. “Chill, baby. I’ll make you feel good.”

I suck in a breath.

Suddenly, Ben’s hand is down my pants.

I cry out, struggling to get away. Ben fumbles around, his fingers brushing my pussy over my panties.

“I’ll be gentle.” The smell of old beer and bad breath wraps around my skin, and I can feel it all over my face.

It’s not the first time I’ve heard those words, and they make my whole body lock up. I want to throw up. I can’t move.

“C’mon, it’ll feel good.”

For a moment, I’m locked in the past. I can’t move my arms. I can’t move my face. Can’t even blink.

A fresh burst of beer breath wakes me up. I reach back, fumbling for a knife out of the knife block.

“What a good girl.” Ben presses me against the counter just hard enough that I can’t leave. My arm hurts craning it back, but then I grip a knife and brandish it in his face.

“Whoa.” His eyes widen, and he takes a step back

I suck in a breath. “Where is Cali?”

“Girl, chill.” Ben has his hands up.

I wave the knife at him, my hand shaking. “Where the fuck is Cali?”

“Cali?” Ben looks confused.

“Yes! Your girlfriend?” The adrenaline rushes through me, and my voice comes out high and uncontrolled.

“She’s not my girlfriend; she dumped me two weeks ago!”

“Where is she? Don’t pretend like you don’t know.”

Ben throws his hands in the air and backs up a step. “Not you, too! First the cops, then you?”

“Tell me where she is,” I demand. My arm is fully shaking, and my hand is numb as the adrenaline courses through me. Nothing is going right, and I’m ruining this whole thing. I’ve fucked it up so massively.

“Is this why you invited me over?” Ben glares at me.

I don’t answer. I suddenly realize how big Ben is and how I might very well become his next target.

I brandish the knife again. “Get out.”

Ben’s face is red. “You can’t fucking threaten me!”

“Get the fuck out!”

He stumbles back again, “I’ll call the cops!”

I follow him with the knife, a slew of emotions running through me so fast I can’t keep track of them.

I ruined this whole thing.

Ruined .

Ben backs out of the house, stepping onto my front porch. “Fucking cunt! Crazy ass bi–”

I slam the door, locking it. I drop my head against the cool door, sucking in deep breaths.

I was stupid to even try.

I should have killed him. Fuck, I should have killed him!

I grip the knife tighter. What the hell kind of thought was that? I don’t want to go to prison. I wouldn’t last a week.

I tried and got nothing. No answers. I thought I’d at least get something. A hint, a clue, something .

I stand there. My face feels hot. My whole body feels hot. I can feel the heat along every inch, up and down my neck, and in my hair.

I’m alone. A mixture of comfort and vast emptiness rushes through me. I’m always alone. I kicked my ex out years ago when he started having the kid talk, and since then, I’ve kinda been a loner. Until I met Cali. And now she’s gone, too.

I still feel Ben’s hands all over my breasts. Breaking for the bathroom, I throw on the water and splash it on my face. It’s not enough. I need more.

I turn on the shower and get in, clothes and shoes still on. I realize my phone is recording in my pocket, and I turn it off and throw it across the bathroom. I stand there, soaking in the cold water.

I can still hear his voice.

More.

I throw on the bath. Before it’s even full, I drop down into it, letting the water lap around me and wrap my feet and legs in a warm hug. It touches me all over with a consistent pressure, soothing away my irritation. I rip my clothes off, and as the water rises, my tension eases.

I drop my head on my knees.

I feel a blemish on my forehead and touch it with my fingers. Fuck, did I get a pimple, too?

I glance around, wishing I hadn’t thrown my phone so I could use the camera to look at it. Still, I pick at it. I pick and pick and pick, locked in a cycle until I get it out of me.

Cali was the one person who understood me, and now she’s gone. She’s gone, and I just ruined the one way to get her back.

Maybe. Unless she’s dead.

I close my eyes. I don’t have anyone left who understands.

And that is the loneliest thought I’ve ever had.