FIRE & LIES (Hunters Inc Book 1) Read online

  Hunters Inc Book 1

  Fire & Lies

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER ONE

  Jacks upped his pace for the final half mile, his breathing heavy, his muscles full of burn from the hard session in the gym.

  Kicking shit out of a punch bag for thirty minutes then running until he was near the point of collapse, one of the few things that allowed him to release the tension that had been slowly building within him over the past few months without the fear of arrest.

  He pulled out his earphones, distracted by the sound of his phone ringing, the name on the screen bringing a curious smile to his face.

  “Harry ‘Bud’ Taylor, to what do I owe this…”

  “Hunter, I need your help!” the interruption not what he had been expecting.

  Jacks hit the ‘stop’ button on the treadmill; well that sparked his attention.

  “Need my help as in you’re stuck on a crossword, or need my help as in I’m on a plane and heading to wherever you are right now?” Jacks asked, already knowing what the answer would be.

  “Help as in when can you get here?” Jacks was out the doors and headed for the staff elevator that would take him back to his suit before the treadmill had come to a stop.

  Hannah wiped her arm across her forehead, catching the droplets of sweat before the salt could burn her eyes. She gave a wave of thanks to the guys who had helped her load the pick-up, before checking her watch, 5:00pm still enough time to get back to the bar unload the crates, take a shower and be ready to start her shift at 7:00pm. She still wasn't sure why her brother Harry had insisted Mikey the head bouncer go with her on the supply run, it's not like she hadn't done it before, still it was nice to have the extra pair of hands to help and she knew the conversation wouldn't be too taxing.

  Friday nights at Harry's Bar were always the same, always packed and Hannah loved every second of it, from the thumping beat of the music that had the dance floor heaving, to the rowdy crowd that would fill the place until it was standing room only, regulars mingling with those just passing through or the weekend crowd out for a good time and chances of sitting down any time before 2:00am would be nil to non-existent and Hannah wouldn't have it any other way.

  She loved the place, it was a part of her, and when life had delt a cruel hand and she had inherited the place along with her brother Harry following the sudden death of their father Harry Sr, it had become home.

  They had grasped the challenge with both hands, Hannah worked the bar, enjoying the interaction with customers, most of whom she knew by name, (she seemed to be part of the attraction of the place, but she didn't have a clue) and working alongside her best friend Emma who at 5ft 9" with shoulder length straight blonde hair was the total opposite to Hannah's 5ft 4" with her long brown curls, didn’t make it feel like work at all, while Harry was happy taking care of all the behind the sense business, the boring stuff as Hannah liked to call it.

  When she thought about what he had given up after their Dad died, she couldn't help but battle the familiar feeling of guilt. He had sacrificed so much, a life, a job that he loved, all pushed to the side so he could come home for her.

  Harry had joined the Army straight after finishing school, something he had always wanted to do, but circumstances had changed, everything had changed, and he had come home for good as soon as he had been able.

  She would give anything to change the events of that night, to give them both a chance at the life they should have had. Ok, so she would probably still be working the bar, but Harry would be doing what he did best, what he loved doing, what he was born to do, to protect, to fight, to be a hero, even if he did try and down play the label she had given him when she had been a kid and he had gone off on his first tour.

  It was a short ride back to the bar, less than 10 minutes and she was pulling her Dad's old pick-up into the parking space at the side of Harry's black Range Rover.

  Hannah always found it amusing when she parked her rust bucket next to his shiny blacked out ride, the vehicle’s just like the two of them, chalk and cheese her Dad would say, total opposites.

  Harry had offered on more than one occasion to have the truck fixed up for her, but she’d refused, it just didn't seem right having the dints and imperfections erased, almost like part of her Dad would be smoothed away with them.

  Hannah was proud that they had made the bar a success. They had been able to pay contractors to come in and do the refit and repairs the place had so desperately needed, with its small stage, pool table and jukebox it looked more traditional than the ultra-modern places that had sprung up over the last couple of years. She smiled as she thought how she and Emma regularly ended up dancing on the bar, much to the crowds amusement and delight, although she stopped short of spraying the room with the soda pump, as much as she had been tempted when one or two creeps had though it ok to run his hand up her leg, a word from one of the four bouncers that worked the security (another Harry insistence) and order was restored.

  They usually finished off the night with the offer of a phone number from a new admirer or two, but always politely declined.

  Hannah turned off the engine and unbuckled her seat belt, opening her door just as Harry appeared and walked towards the back of her truck, he reminded her so much of their Dad, same colouring, same build, even the same distinctive Harry Taylor walk to go along with the name that both men shared, although Harry Jr very rarely went by his full name of Harrison.

  At over 6ft, he screamed military, even if he wasn't in the Army anymore, his large muscular build still held its frame despite it being a while since he had worn combats or carried a weapon.

  "Thanks Mikey, hope she wasn't too much of a pain" Harry greeted the big man with a wink and strong handshake.

  "Not a problem, anytime. I'll see you guys tonight ..." Mikey waved as he walked towards his own car.

  "You can do the run next time shit head, I hate that place" she told him as she opened the truck and they both unloaded crates onto the step near the door of the bar. "And what's with sending Mikey with me? I can carry a few crates you know, do I look weak?"

  "If there is one thing I hate, it's shopping and I never said you were weak, shit you’re one of the strongest people I know, but you are also one of the most stubborn, I just figured it would be a quicker job with two people and I had a few things I needed to take care of" Harry explained as he lifted another crate.

  "This, brother of mine was NOT shopping, this was me running around like a lunatic trying to find stock for the busiest night of the week because the stupid brewery screwed up the order, this has never been shopping, shopping I can do, just give me a credit card with no limit and watch me go" She told him as they continued to unload, Harry rolled his eyes.

  "All I've ever seen you buy is beer and pizza on a Sunday for the chic flick thing you and Emma do, what the hell do you guy's find to talk about that's so interesting anyway?" There he goes again, casually dropping Emma into the conversation, he was about as subtle as a clown juggling balls at a Black and White Ball when it came to her best friend.

  Carlos Sanchez sat behind the large wooden desk and l
ooked at the grainy photographs, it was time, he had waited long enough.

  The two men who sat opposite watched him, waiting. Sanchez had been more impatient than usual the past few days, more on edge, quick to erupt into a rage at the simplest thing, he had been dismissive of almost everyone around him, and they had on more than one occasion witnessed one of the young house maids running from his office in tears. They watched him as he studied her image for what seemed to be the hundredth time that day, each time he picked up the photograph, he paled, his breathing becoming heavier and beads of sweat would form on his brow.

  “I want her…” the last fading traces of a Hispanic accent becoming more prominent the more he appeared to be losing control. “I have waited long enough, I want her…”

  Sanchez needed to make it known, he didn’t forget, cross him, get in his way and you would pay, he liked his revenge as he liked his women, on his terms, and now the time had come.

  His men had been watching her for a few weeks now, he had all the information he needed, knew her routine, her pathetic little life, so predictable, so stupid.

  This would be easy, she would be perfect. The quiet boy who had been humiliated and beaten by the older, stronger children in his neighbourhood was now ready to make his mark, he had amassed enough to make him someone that mattered, someone to whom they would pay attention to, yes, the time had come to show the world who Carlos Sanchez really was.

  He would take great pleasure watching her break, take great pleasure making her beg, yes, it was time. A cold shiver of anticipation ran through his whole body, he had waited long enough.

  The bar was restocked and ready for the

  thirsty crowd that would be descending on the place as soon as the 'OPEN' sign was turned on the door. It gave Hannah enough time to shower and change, perhaps grab some food before the chaos that she loved rained down on what was sure to be another hectic Friday night.

  She grabbed a bottle of water from one of the fridges and turned towards the doorway marked ‘STAFF ONLY’ that lead through to the back office, stock room, kitchen and the entrance to the upstairs apartment that she had moved into.

  It was more a convenience than anything else, no point paying rent on her apartment when the one above Harry's was empty, her dad only ever using it for storage. Never made sense to her why he would rent a house when they could have lived above the bar, but that’s what he insisted they did.

  Living and working in the place where her Dad had died made her feel close to him, she couldn’t explain it any other way, didn't feel she needed to, she just knew she wanted to be here and Harry had agreed, if it was what she wanted to do then it was fine with him, she just had to agree to a few extra security measures first.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Jackson Hunter pressed 'end call' and threw his phone onto his bed, ran his hands down his face as he exhaled, leaning forward, his elbows pressed against his knees.

  "Shit!" Well that was a call he hadn’t expected, Harry ‘Bud’ Taylor his brother in arms, his friend needed him.

  It had been almost twelve months since Jacks had left the Army and just over two years since Harry had hung up his dog tags following the brutal murder of his father.

  It would be good to see his friend again, Jacks only wished the circumstances where different. He should have gone sooner, what was it his Mum was always telling him? 'Don't put off until tomorrow what you can do today', perhaps he should start and take more of her advice.

  Jacks stood, all 6ft 2" of him and stretched, his sweat pants hung low on his hips and his vest clung to his impressive chest, still damp from the five miles he had pounded out on the treadmill in the hotel gym.

  He fired up his laptop before stepping into the cold shower, Shit, this wasn't how he had expected to be meeting Hannah Taylor, sister of his friend and the subject of more than one of his wet dreams.

  Perhaps deep down, she was the real reason he hadn't seen Harry since they both found themselves back on Civvy street. He remembered feeling like he had been punched in the gut the first time he had seen her picture, an army rookie still wet behind the ears, and now he was going to meet her in the flesh.

  No time to think about that now, he needed to get moving, he had a long flight ahead of him and would need every minute of it to calm his nerves before seeing her.

  Jacks wiped the steam covered mirror as he rubbed the towel over his wet hair, it was desperately in need of a cut by Army standards, but he didn't miss the buzz trim that he had sported for the previous few years that was for sure, and his CO Jenson (Java) Walker would have busted his balls seeing his face with almost a week’s worth of growth.

  Jacks stood and starred at his reflection, his fingers drawn to the fading scare on his left shoulder, the bullet a clean through and through, the puckered angry flesh a permanent reminder of where he had been, what he had seen. It was a part of him, of his story, and as ugly as it might have been, it was a grateful reminder that he had survived. It was also the reason he had been discharged. The damage to his shoulder would never fully heal to the way it was pre-wound. And that was something he had yet come to terms with.

  Jacks sat and began to read the file that Harry had emailed to him, the first thing he saw was the picture of Hannah, Harry’s younger sister.

  He knew her face, even before the image finished loading onto his screen, knew it from looking at it almost every chance he got, it burned into his memory.

  Harry along with all the other guys in their troop would share any new photos they were sent of their family and friends, usually accompanied by a humorous story.

  Harry, as Jacks recalled had many stories that involved him teasing his little sister, but it wasn't the stories Jacks had been paying attention to, it had been the cute girl in her late teens that had caught his eye and he would find himself holding on to her picture just a little too long as they passed them around.

  The image that came through now was of Hannah a couple of years older than he remembered, cute had changed into downright beautiful and he felt the familiar twist in his gut as he studied the file on the screen.

  The intel they had was sketchy at best, but if it was all they had to work with, so be it, they had pulled off bigger jobs with less. He made a printed copy before getting dressed and loading his computer into his bag, then slipped on his aviators and closed the door behind him.

  Jacks was pissed. Hadn't she and Harry been through enough? The dumb fucks who had shot and killed her father had been caught on security camera entering and leaving the bar, blood splatter all over their clothes, and had left the place covered in their own DNA, open and shut case.

  She shouldn't have even had to testify, but the defence had insisted she take the stand, they had to be seen at least trying to get their clients off.

  It had taken a jury less than an hour to find the dicks guilty, the judge handing out the mandatory sentence of life.

  Hannah's nightmare should have been over, she and Harry should have been allowed to mourn their loss and try and to rescue some sort of normal life, but NO ...The dumb fucks had been connected, they were low down on the food chain, but connected all the same, and now some power hungry prick had decided it was time to take her out, to send a message to anyone else who turned witness against his little empire.

  Well not on his watch, hell, he would give up his own life to protect her if he had to. Harry had saved his ass on more than one occasion and now he was calling in the debt.

  Jacks had been looking for an excuse to get away from the hotel for a while. As much as he was trying, working for his father's hotel chain wasn't him, he needed to get his hands dirty, mud on his boots, needed to fire a weapon, anything, military was in his blood and he was getting restless.

  He made a couple of calls on his way to the airport, first to a hire company, he would need a car, Harry had told him he drove a black Range Rover, so Jacks figured it made sense to use the same, if they needed to move Hannah, two cars almost identical would make any at
tempt to grab her harder, not knowing which vehicle she was in would be a headache he hoped Carlos Sanchez hadn't planned for.

  The second call was to his father.

  Raymond Hunter was an English businessman in his mid-fifties and the owner of a very successful chain of high end hotels. He had made many connections over the years both in England and the States, had made a lot of people rich and in doing so had forged friendships that extended to Jacks and his brother Chris.

  "Son, Everything ok?" Ray Hunter intrigued as to why his eldest boy was calling him so early in the morning.

  "Dad, Harry Taylor has asked for my help, I'm on my way to the airport right now." Jacks knew that his father would understand his need to go, his mother had attended Harry’s father’s funeral on his behalf when he was overseas and couldn't get back "I should only be gone a few days, maybe a week. I’m sorry it's short notice, but I have to do this ..." his voice firm and steady.

  "I understand, I'm sure Harry wouldn't have called if he didn't think it was necessary. I'm going to hang up and ring the airport, the company plane will be ready and waiting for you." Jacks thanked his father before they both agreed this was one that his mother didn't need to know about. “Jackson" Ray's voice calm but with a nervous undertone "As much as the urge to lace up your combat boots has been calling, I still want you to be careful. Whatever it is that Harry needs you for, that’s between you two, but you still come first. Be careful son."

  "Will do Dad, always."

  Using the company plane wasn't something he did often, never taking the fortunate position he found himself in for granted, well, not anymore. He preferred to fly commercial, but the contents of his grab bag would raise more than a few eyebrows and probably get him arrested if it went through the regular security checks. Using the plane meant that he could be with Harry within the next few hours, no questions asked, giving himself time to study the file in more detail.