Broken Boys Crave Chaos by JB Heller
ChapterTwo
“How’dit go with Belle last night?” Snow asks, flopping down on my bed beside me.
“Fine,” I mumble, nowhere near ready to wake up yet.
Snow doesn’t seem to notice, or care. “You’re a wealth of information, aren’t you?”
“Dude, I’m trying to sleep here. What do you want?”
“I’m glad you asked,” she chirps.
Yeah, chirps. I’m immediately suspicious. Snow is not a chirper. I peel one eye open and glare at her. Again, she doesn’t notice.
“I’m not going to be available tonight, or tomorrow night. And maybe the night after… so your options are we either do all our retrievals during the day, or you can take Belle on the ones that need to be nighttime jobs.”
I push myself up on my elbows and give her a full, double eyed glare. “What are you hiding?”
She looks me dead in the eye, then slowly arches one of her perfectly sculpted brows. “Why would you think I’m hiding something?”
“Because you’re skipping out on me with zero explanation. That’s why.”
“You didn’t even ask for one,” she points out.
I roll my eyes. “And if I did, you wouldn’t give me one. So, I repeat, what are you hiding, little sister?”
“Nothing. I’m just busy, okay. I have a life outside of Hunters and Co., you know.”
And that right there, seals it. She’s definitely hiding shit. I burst out laughing. I laugh so hard my stomach hurts and I’m wiping tears from the corners of my eyes. Snow doesn’t react at all, remaining perfectly composed.
When I’m done, I take a few calming breaths and shimmy upright until I’m leaning against my headboard. “You’re a shit liar. I have a life outside of Hunters and Co,” I mimic, and have to fight to contain my amusement again. “None of us have a life outside of hunting. It’s what we do, it’s who we are.”
Instead of engaging in the conversation, she swings her legs over the side of the bed and stands. Peering down at me, she shrugs and says, “Well, maybe it’s time we got one.” Snow then turns on her booted heels and walks out.
Well, that was super freakin’ weird.
All five of us Hunter sisters are bounty hunters just like our daddy. Always have been, always will be. It’s all we’ve ever known. When Mom died, leaving Dad with five little girls under the age of ten, he did the only thing he could do. Turned to his boys who stepped up and helped him raise us.
Their methods may not have been conventional, but we all turned out okay. It was only natural for us to join the family business. Our whole lives have revolved around it. And now Snow is suddenly wanting to get a life outside of that? Something is so up with her.
Seeing as my sleep-in was ruined, I roll out of bed and hit the shower while wondering what in the hell has gotten into my sister. Twenty-four is too young for a midlife crisis… right?
* * *
It’s nearlyten when I reach the office, and judging by the full car park, I’d say I’m the last to arrive. Pulling into my allocated spot, I double check the time on my cell—I’m not late.
When I stroll inside, I find the main pit empty except for Bosco, Kida’s British bulldog, who is happily chowing down on what looks like Dad’s prepacked lunch. I crouch down, petting him. “Where is everyone, buddy?”
He leans into my hand, a string of drool hanging off his chin. I take care to stay away from his mouth as I stand then head for the kitchen out back, finding everyone gathered around the large timber table. Shit… I forgot about this morning’s meeting. Oops. But it’s not my fault; Snow woke me up and screwed with my routine. Everyone knows I’m a creature of habit, and if you mess with my system everything goes to hell.
All eyes are on me when I take the last remaining seat at the well worn table. “Morning,” I mumble as I swipe a perfectly glazed doughnut from the box in front of me.
Daddy clears his throat, eyeing me. “Now that all my princesses are here, can we get this show on the road?”
I flick my gaze around the table. “Sorry,” I garble through a mouthful of heavenly goodness.
“It’s fine,” he says, then it’s down to business. “We’ve had four new skips come in overnight, and Belle’s tracked down two runners interstate. Meg, they’re yours. Kline has the files and he’ll be going with you.”
Meg nods, her eye briefly meeting Kline’s across the table before darting back to our dad. This piques my interest, but I don’t have a chance to dwell on it as Daddy slides a small stack of files across the table to me. I flick the top one open and scan the basic info.
Terry Anders, forty-three, was supposed to appear in court three days ago for… I run my finger down the page until I get to his charges. A sneer pulls at my mouth the second my gaze lands on the word rape. Guess I’ll be making sure it hurts when I get my hands on this one.
I pass the file over to Snow who doesn’t even bother opening it. “Rapist,” she says. It’s not a question; she can read me like a book. I nod, and she smirks back. “Rubber bullets or tasers?”
“Hmm…” I tap my chin pretending to think it over. “Why not both?”
We grin at the same time. Not a pretty, flirtatious grin, no, more like slightly homicidal.
Valentine pipes up from the other side of the table. “I hate it when you two get all… murdery. It’s creepy as fuck.”
I turn the look on him and he cringes, then flutter my lashes and comb my fingers through my long black hair hanging over my shoulder. “Lucky it’s usually reserved for rapists then, Val.” I shoot him a wink and burst out laughing as he shudders in his seat.
Val glares at me and shakes his head. “Then why were you directing it at me just now!”
I roll my eyes. “Oh relax. I don’t think you’d ever do anything like that. I just enjoy making you uncomfortable. It makes me happy.”
“Gee thanks,” he mutters. “See what I have to put up with?” he says to his dad, Doc, who ignores him, keeping his attention on whatever my dad is saying to him. Val huffs and crosses his arms, deliberately looking anywhere but my way.
Valentine is the brother we never had. Age wise he fits right in the middle of Belle and me at twenty-seven. Although, the way he looks at Belle sometimes is not very brotherly. Now that’s creepy as fuck if you ask me.
Snow jabs me in the ribs, drawing my focus to her and her weirdly pointy elbows.
“What?” I snap.
“What else do we have?” She points at the stack of files I’m leaning on.
“Oh,” I mutter. Flipping the next one open, I pick out all the pertinent information then move to the next, and the next. “Okay, we’ve got a thirty-two-year-old suspected arsonist, a twenty-two-year-old physical assault, and finally a twenty-six-year-old destruction of property.”
“Who’s up first?” she asks, drumming her nails on the table.
“I’m think we should save the best till last, have something to look forward to as the week progresses, plus he’s going to take the longest to track down.”
Snow claps her hands in excitement. “Right, so Rapey-McRapist is on for Friday then. I’ll make sure we’re fully stocked with rubber bullets.” She pauses her clapping, holding up a finger. “Oh, do your knives need sharpening?”
I purse my lips, thinking. “Umm, no they should be good. I used them like two weeks ago when we apprehended the wife beater.”
“Shit, that’s right. Totally forgot about him. You cleaned them after that, right? ’Cause that was a lot of blood.”
I shrug. “Fingers bleed a lot—”
“You guys are so fucking weird. And violent. I wish I could stop listening to you two, but I can’t! It’s like driving past a really bad car accident. You know you don’t want to see the mangled bodies, but you look anyway,” Val says, cradling his chin in his hands as he stares at us.
“More like your subconscious knows you’re in the presence of greatness so it forces you to take note.” Snow smirks and we high-five.
Val however is not convinced. “No, it’s definitely not that.”
I flip him off then get back to the job at hand. “We could go after the physical assault today, destruction of property tomorrow, then the arsonist on Thursday?” I suggest.
Snow mulls it over then lifts a shoulder. “Okay, sounds like a plan.” She turns her attention to Belle and asks, “You got any other info we might need?”
Belle gives Snow the stink eye. “It’s all in the file. Like always.”
“Sorry, was just checking,” Snow mutters.
She should know better than to question Belle. She’s pedantic about her research, which is good for us because it makes our jobs so much easier. Less leg work on our part means more dumb shits behind bars quicker.
I push back in my chair, wincing as the legs screech across the concrete flooring. Everyone gives me the look, the one that says, what-the-hell-did-you-do-that-for, and I shrink back a little. “My bad.”
Snow’s still pouting, so I pat the top of her head as I turn to leave the room. “You comin’?”
“Yeah, yeah.” She silently shifts her chair back from the table then stands.
Show off.I roll my eyes and carry on my way out to the main pit, stopping at my desk to retrieve my taser, cuffs, and vest.
Ten minutes later, Snow and I stroll out the front door and head for my truck. We always take my ride because Snow doesn’t believe in practicality, and brought a motorbike instead of a car, or truck. Not that it annoys me or anything. It totally doesn’t.
She slides into the passenger seat, latches her seatbelt then opens the file. “Oh, you didn’t say our assault skipper is a chick. I wonder what she did…” she murmurs, her eyes locked on the wrap sheet. She scoffs as I’m pulling out of the parking lot. “Sounds like this guy had it coming. Poor girl was just defending herself.”
“Yeah, I read that. Shouldn’t be too hard to bring her in. She screwed herself over by skipping bail though.”
Snow sighs. “I know. She was probably just scared. Did you get a look at her mug shot? She’s a baby.”
I nod but don’t speak. I hate these ones. The poor girl probably has no idea that skipping bail is a felony in and of itself. Not to mention Snow’s right; she was defending herself from her landlord who liked to get handsy. He’s the prick we should be having a little meeting with today, not her.
Sometimes I can’t wrap my head around just how wrong the justice system gets it. It’s part of the reason I’ve never been interested in law enforcement. Their hands are tied around so many rules, regulations, and red tape it’s not funny. Bounty Hunters though, we have a little more leeway. Not enough to get away with excessive force; however, who’s to say what’s excessive and what’s not in any situation?
“A little vigilante justice would serve this guy right.” Snow grumbles, and I can’t say I disagree.
But that’s not our jam. I give my sister, who lives up to her name sake’s appearance in every aspect except wardrobe, the side eye. “Ain’t that the truth, but that’s not how we roll. Right, Snow?”
She glances out her window. “Yeah.”