Hunter (The Untouchables MC 6)

A big one, from the sound of it.

It was close. Really close. It sounded like it was in the room with me.

I ran to the window and looked out. My stomach dropped. My mind reeled.

Oh no. Please, God, no.

There was a large, muscular man in worn-in denim and leather revving a bike in the driveway next door. Right next door. Calling it a ‘bike’ was laughable. It was hell on wheels. Literally.

Suddenly, I wanted to cry. There goes my peace and quiet. There goes the neighborhood, too, I thought sourly.

The thing was huge and looked terrifying. Kind of like the man who was standing next to it. Some maniac had actually customized the thing so that it looked like it had bony black wings coming out of the front.

It was massive, the biggest motorcycle I’d ever seen. To suit the rider, I assumed. The man was menacing, to say the least. He stood well over six feet, with long, lean legs and thick, tattooed shoulders that looked at least three feet wide, even though I knew that was impossible. I could only see his profile, but he looked demonic. He had sharp features and a beard, with piercing eyes and dark eyebrows that were drawn in and down in a perpetual scowl.

Satan had literally moved next door to my dear, sweet old Gran.

I shook my head wildly. My eyes were playing tricks on me. That wasn't possible, was it? I'd never heard of someone that broad, not even in anatomy class.

I gasped out loud when he turned a moment later and I finally got a good look at him. Long dark hair poured out over his shoulders, making him look like an avenging angel. His bearded face was chiseled and handsome, with a full pouty mouth.

A smiling mouth. What the heck did a monster like him have to smile at? It was a predatory smile, making him look almost hungry. Like a shark spotting a tasty seal.

In fact, it looked like he was smiling at his next meal. I blinked as heat pooled in my stomach. I had goosebumps all over. My nipples were hard.

He was staring right at me.

Through me, really.

Like he could see through my clothes, specifically. And boy, did I feel that. Right down to my toes.

I jumped back from the window, nearly knocking over a lamp in the process. I righted it and casually strolled into the kitchen where Gran was baking a full tin's worth of bran muffins. I stared at her, wondering if that monster next door had made her life a living hell. She hadn't said a word about it.

Gran carefully stacked the muffins on a plate covered with a napkin. Funny . . . she didn't look like she was being terrorized by Satan-worshipping bikers. She looked healthy and happy, with rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes. I frowned at the number of muffins she'd made. Not only was it a full tin, but she'd made lemonade from scratch. We must be expecting company. Usually, she only made half a tin.

Gran was big on healthy eating and had raised me to be mindful of what I put into my body. That was a big reason I had decided to go into helping sick people. Even though the nursing program was challenging, to say the least.

"Gran, you didn't tell me that we had new neighbors."

"Neighbor. It's just Hunter over there."

My grandmother looked at me shrewdly.

"He's single, though there has been a stream of pretty women coming and going. I don’t think he’s dating any of them. Why? Do you like him?"

“Oh, my God, Gran! He looks like a criminal!"

"Well, then, he must be if he looks like one, right?"

I gave Gran a look. I knew what she was doing. I'd heard the 'don't judge a book by its cover' lesson a hundred times. Normally, I didn't. But this guy . . . well, there was no mistaking him for what he was.

A first-degree badass.

"All the same, I expect you to be polite when he stops by."

I stared at Gran in shock. What was my sweet old grandmother doing inviting that cretin over for muffins?

"When he what?”

"Go fix your hair, dear. He'll be here any minute."

"Gran!"

My grandmother looked at me with an arched eyebrow. It was the look that said 'don't you sass your elders, young lady.' That look had kept me on my toes since I was two years old.

"I promised him muffins after he fixed the front door for me a few days ago. Doesn't squeak anymore in case you didn't notice. Added some extra security too."

My grandmother grinned at me cheekily.

"Those criminal types know all about that sort of thing. Now, go freshen up."

I ran into my bedroom and looked at myself in the mirror. Gran was right. My hair was disheveled from my interrupted nap. Not that I cared what the guy thought. I didn’t care what any man thought of me, for that matter.