5
After three weeks in the surveillance van, Hunter had resigned himself to the tedium and to Payne’s almost constant chatter. He’d even found, to his surprise, that Payne was as widely read as he was and had even found himself interested in Payne’s opinions about books. And movies. And music. He told himself it was a defensive mechanism, because if he didn’t reply to Payne, he’d have to choke the life out of him. Or try, at least — he’d learned his lesson about how strong and fast Payne was, and he wasn’t at all certain that in a knock-down, drag-out fight he’d be able to get the best of his smaller partner.
There were still times when he didn’t want to talk, where he found himself staring again into the pit of his own dark thoughts. At times like that he simply tuned Payne out, though he’d found that when Payne widened his big, blue eyes the way he did when he wanted something, Payne could sometimes pull him back from the brink. There were even times when he wanted to talk to Payne about what he was feeling; Payne was a good listener, and he’d made it quite obvious he was willing to listen. But Hunter always clamped down on the impulse, because he wasn’t certain about Payne’s real motives. Maybe he could understand Hunter’s bitterness and anger, but maybe he was going to go running back to Herc and Matthew and tell them Hunter was a danger to himself and others, which would put an end to Hunter’s career. He was a merc, and he had no idea what he could be if he wasn’t a merc any longer.
He knew Payne had an uncanny knack for reading his thoughts, which was both intriguing and alarming. Somehow Payne had even guessed Hunter had felt an intense desire to run when Alec Davis had shown up with his husband and baby, though it wasn’t for the reason Payne seemed to think. He knew the baby was in no danger and wasn’t a danger to him or anyone else. Alec had looked at his tiny daughter as though the world rose and set on her. It was exactly the way Stack had always looked at his son Jake, and Hunter had felt a surge of anger and guilt that had been difficult to control. Alexandra Baldwin-Davis had her big, strong father to protect her, but Jake Hansen had no father any longer. Little Jake would never know the man his father had been, would never remember how Stack had loved his son with every breath in his body — and there wasn’t a damn thing Hunter could do to change it.
That was what hurt, and why Hunter couldn’t bring himself to go near Alec or the baby. He didn’t want to face a reminder of his own helplessness to do anything about the way the world had shit on the people he cared about.
“I stayed up way too long watching Netflix,” Payne said in the conversational tone that meant he was about to start nattering about something. Somehow, he seemed to know when Hunter was getting broody and he started talking, as if he was trying to distract Hunter. “I finally started watching a new superhero series they made. It’s pretty good, although I only got a few episodes in before I conked out.”
Hunter stared into the abyss of his thoughts, then with an effort pulled his attention back to the van and to Payne. It was like coming out of quicksand or trying to wake up from a nightmare, and he blinked hard. He started to glance away again, but then Payne widened his eyes, giving Hunter the puppy-dog look Hunter found hard to ignore. He was pretty sure Payne knew the effect that look had on people. Even with Hunter, it still worked.
“Which superhero?” he asked, wondering if Payne used the same look on people he wanted to take to bed. If so, Payne probably had more action than he knew what to do with.
“Daredevil. The guy who plays him is really hot, which is one reason why I kept watching instead of going to bed like I should have,” Payne said, smiling mischievously. “But I found the story interesting too. He’s a merc, basically.”
Hunter hadn’t seen the show, but perhaps he should check it out, if only to see how they portrayed a merc. And maybe, just out of curiosity, to see what kind of man Payne considered hot. “It’s better than that stupid movie?”
“God, yes.” Payne screwed up his face in dislike. “Although I suppose saying he’s a merc is inaccurate, since he’s not getting paid to be a vigilante hero. He does it because he wants to help people who are getting screwed over by a corrupt system. Still, he’s working outside the law, and he’s a badass fighter, so close enough.”
One of the things Payne said caught Hunter’s attention, and he frowned. “Do you consider us to be heroes?” he asked, genuinely curious.
“Well, yeah.” Payne appeared surprised by the question. “I’ve read the report about the mission you guys collaborated with us on, the one where D-Day tackled a nuke. There’s no telling how many lives you saved or how many international incidents you prevented, and that’s only one mission.”
“But we got hazard pay for it,” Hunter pointed out, ignoring the sharp pain he felt when he remembered how excited Stack had been about that mission. “It was our job, and we were trained for it. I’m not going to say it wasn’t dangerous, but it’s not like we didn’t know what we were up against going in.”
Payne was silent for a moment, watching Hunter contemplatively. “I think we get in a bubble,” he said at last, drawing a wide circle in the air with his forefinger. “In the army, at Lawson and Greer, at Hercules Security — we’re surrounded by men and women who are trained to put their lives on the line. Everyone we work with would take a bullet for their client because it’s their job. But we forget not everyone is like us. Not everybody could even get through the training. I’d most people couldn’t. So yes, I think you guys are heroes for putting yourselves out there despite the risks.”
Hunter could see Payne’s point. “So it’s a matter of perspective,” he said slowly. “I guess you’re right.” He paused, drawing in a deep breath, and when he spoke again, his voice was soft. “Stack was a hero. Probably the most heroic man I’ve ever known.”
“He was very brave and selfless,” Payne said, resting his hand lightly on Hunter’s arm. “Definitely a hero.”
The touch surprised Hunter. People didn’t tend to touch him unless he initiated it, probably because he was so big and scary looking. The exceptions tended to be the people he was closest to, which these days was… no one. It was a sobering thought, one he didn’t want to dwell on, so he nodded, deciding to change the subject because he felt like he’d revealed enough. “So this Daredevil series is good? I guess I’ll check it out. If only to give my eyes a break from all the reading I’ve been doing.”
Payne leaned back in his seat. “I’m only about four episodes in, but yeah, I’d recommend it. It’s not art, but it’s good TV,” he said, taking the change of subject in stride.
The conversation drifted on to other television shows, while they watched the monitors. Suddenly Hunter whipped his head around, having caught movement on one display out of the corner of his eye. He frowned, leaning forward and watching a dark shadow skirting around the edge of the picture. It could have been an animal, but the stealthiness of the movement set off alarm bells in his head.
“We have an intruder,” he said tersely. “North edge of the property. It’s like they know where the cameras are, but I see the shadow moving. I don’t think they counted on the moonlight.”
“Good catch.” Payne stood up, shifting into professional mode instantly. “I’ll take care of him. You call in for backup.”
“Right.” Hunter picked up the van’s phone, which was tied into a satellite network and didn’t rely on cell towers and was much harder to jam. He heard Payne leave the van, but he kept his eyes on the monitor, watching the shadow creeping forward toward the house.
Hercules Security kept a night crew on call at all times, and Hunter described the situation and requested backup. If they were lucky, one of the mobile teams the company had in the field checking out facilities that didn’t maintain 24-hour surveillance would be close by and able to respond. The night crew would also call the local police and report the situation, so Hunter didn’t have to divert his attention from his monitors.
He watched Payne approaching the target on one of the other monitors, but before Payne reached the area, all hell broke loose on Hunter’s panels. A sensor on the sliding door at the rear of the house flashed red, and an audible siren went off at the same time.
Hunter surged to his feet, weapon drawn, and jumped from the van. He crossed the lawn at a dead run, making it to the house in less than a minute. He could see the jagged glass where the sliding door had been broken with one of the metal lawn chairs, but he didn’t stop to survey the damage. After a quick look to make sure there were no intruders still lurking outside, he entered the house.
The slider was part of the huge kitchen of the house, and it took only a moment to ascertain the intruder hadn’t lingered in the empty room. The attack had been well-coordinated, and that meant whoever had pulled it off had an objective, one Hunter was pretty certain involved injuring or killing the client. He was familiar with the layout of the house, even though he’d only been inside it once. Weeks of watching every room on the monitors gave him the ability to move quickly and surely in the direction of the master bedroom.
As he’d expected, the door was open, and a masked man with a drawn gun stood staring down the Petersons as they clung to each other in their bed. Hunter didn’t hesitate; the wailing of the siren covered any sound he made as he stepped into the room, raised his gun and slammed the unsuspecting intruder in the side of the head, knocking him unconscious. The man crumpled at his feet, and Hunter looked at the Petersons.
“Are you all right?” he asked, shouting to be heard over the alarm.
Steven Peterson nodded jerkily, but before he could say anything, Hunter heard a scream even over the siren. A child’s scream.
