Bad Boy Saint (Bad Boy 1)

I left the sticky on the computer screen and then thought I should go upstairs where Hunter lived to see if he was there. I'd been upstairs only once four years earlier. It was a fantastic apartment above the gym, and had been renovated with the top of the line fixtures and furnishings. I'd spent most of the night in Hunter's bedroom, but had never gone back.

My memories of that night returned as I climbed the stairs to the floor, my heart in my throat at the prospect of seeing Hunter again. I hadn't talked with him since that fateful night that set all this in motion, although I did see him from a distance at the funeral for Sean.

What would he say if I showed up at his door?

I went to the apartment and stood at the front entrance, my heart racing. Behind the door, I heard laughter – a woman's soft high voice and then a man's low voice, deep, and amused.

Was it Hunter?

If it was him and not Conor, he was there with a woman.

I turned away and crept back down the stairs, for as much as I needed to speak with Hunter, there was no way on Earth I would dare interrupt him if he had a woman with him. Besides, I hated the idea that he was with someone else. There was still this silly part of me that would always be in love with him, no matter what.

I hated that part of me, but it was a part I couldn't deny.

I left the gym quickly, having not run into anyone who recognized me and gave a huge sigh of relief once I was outside. I was a coward after all, afraid to face Hunter.

He'd find my message and know I was there. He'd know it was serious so I hoped he'd call me the next day.

I took the bus home and flopped down on my tiny sofa once I was back inside my dorm room. On the coffee table were a half-dozen articles I needed to read for the next week, but my heart was just not into it.

I took out my cell and checked once more for any messages, but there was none so I wrote another text.

CELIA: Hunter, I really really need to speak with you. This is a life or death matter.

I hoped that would convince him to contact me. He understood life and death matters – probably better than most. He'd been a MMA fighter. After the blowup with Spencer, he'd joined the Marines. He'd become and officer and then seen combat. He'd seen his brother shot down by police…

There was no response by midnight when I finally threw down the last journal article and decided to call it a night.

I knew what I had to do.

I had to go to the club. Tomorrow was Saturday. I had to work at noon for four hours, and I had to see Graham, but Hunter spent Saturday nights at his uncle's club in South Boston, working as a night manager. I'd go to the club and confront him. Maybe if I showed up in person, he'd realize how serious this was and stop avoiding me.

I went to sleep with a sense of gloom. What if Hunter refused to help us?

Graham seemed so sure of his old best friend but I wasn't.

The feud between our two families reached back more than a decade. Even farther back because the two families had been on opposite sides of the law and were adversaries. I hoped that Graham's situation would soften Hunter's heart and convince him to help us.

We had four days before the loan shark would expect to be paid. I had to contact Hunter and soon or who knew what they'd do to Graham and then to me to collect their debt?

On Saturday morning, I visited Graham before I went to work. He was feeling much better and was sitting up by the side of the bed briefly with a nurse at his side.

"You're getting him up already?" I asked, hoping that meant he was ready to come home. "Will he be coming home soon?"

"Not for a while," the nurse said and helped Graham lie back down. "He's still got a few days to go on the neuro ward. Once we get the catheter out, and he's able to walk around the ward a few times, the doctor will consider releasing him to the rehab wing. He had serious internal injuries and broken bones. He'll need extensive rehab."

I nodded and sat on the chair beside Graham. The nurse administered him a dose of pain meds and before I could talk to him, he dozed off in a morphine haze. I checked my cell to see if Hunter had finally responded, but nothing.

I had to go to the club and see if I could confront him.

Honestly, I didn’t blame him that he refused to respond to me, but I had to talk to him.

I spent an hour with Graham, reading several articles in my book bag I'd brought so I could read while he slept. Then, I went to work and took a bartender shift over the lunch hour. Later in the afternoon, after I choked down a quick lunch at work, I went back to the hospital and sat with Graham until dinner when I went back to my dorm.

When I arrived back at Kirkland House, Amy popped in to see me. "Hey," she said. "How's big bro?"

"On the mend. Still catheterized so he's not being released to a rehab ward until it's out."