Kirby Carter

You follow Paxton through the offices into the elevator and down to the parking garage.. He doesn't say a word about where you're going or what is happening next..

Truthfully, you don't mind the silence. your mind is still reeling and you can't stop thinking you've lost your mind, to be going along with such a crazy scheme..

Because, what is the alternative, really?..

You have no choice but to put your faith in The Viking..
Not your trust, no.. But your belief that he can actually help you, like he says he can..
You also don't mind not talking because you just can't let go of some of the things his sister had said...

She has seemed so sad..
And so sure that her brother didn't care very much for her at all..
What made her that way?

.. And why had she offered up so much information about herself.. Is she really that naive, or did he put her up to it?

He opens the passenger door of a shiny black Audi for you and you hesitate, pausing and turning to look up at him curiously before getting in.. "Viking?.."

His spine straightens, tipping his head to one side.. "Yes, Duchess?"

You swallow nervously.. You probably should just keep your mouth shut.. But sometimes you can't help yourself.. Your compassion gets the better of you.. And your curiosity.. "Your sister.. Is she.. Is she okay?"

He frowns.. "I honestly don't know.. And, I don't think she'd tell me if she wasn't.."

You see such sadness in his eyes, and something else..

Remorse..

Something terrible happened between the siblings..

That only makes you want to know more.. "Hunter... She clearly loves you.."

He tries to shrug off your statement as he shifts his weight form side to side, uncomfortable with the conversation.. "Yeah.."

But loving her brother is obviously not the problem..

No..whether he wants to admit it or not, there is something wrong there that needs to be addressed.. You really don't feel like it's your place to say anything, in fact you know it isn't.. But at the same time.. Who else is going to tell him?

You get the feeling that nobody really tells this guy what to do.. But maybe someone should.. "But.. For some reason, she doesn't seem to believe you love her.. That isn't right, Viking.."

His expression darkens and his eyes turn stormy.. "Don't you think I fucking know that? Godamn just leave it alone.." He growls..

You seem to have hit a very raw nerve, so you snap your mouth closed and climb into the tan leather seat of the car, still clutching the heavy book of mythology in your arms.. He slams the door shut before he rounds the back of the car to slide in behind the wheel.. A thick tension hangs in the air as he starts the engine and pulls out onto the main road.. After several minutes of silence, you break.. "I'm sorry, okay?"

Nothing.. No response.. No reaction..

"I didn't mean to upset you.. I don't know why I even said anything.. I was just trying to--"

"To what?" His tone is icy and harsh..

"To.. To help?"
He scoffs, his grip tightening on the wheel as you feel yourself growing frustrated.. "So, it's okay for you to know all about my life? You can surveil me and spy on me all you like.. but when your sister pours her heart out to me without so much as me prodding her, somehow I've done something wrong?"

He pulls the car over out the front of a tall white high-rise.. An older gentleman with perfect posture, in a neat maroon suit standing by the door.. Hunter kills the engine before he turns to you, he is a dark, stormy cloud of irritation.. His expression hardened, and his voice gruff.. "Yes, Kirby.. I spied on YOU.. Not your sister.. In fact, I explicitly kept your sister out of my investigations because I knew she had nothing to do with your shit.. Maybe you've got the right idea though.. Maybe if I had investigated HER I'd know who the fuck that guy in the leather jacket was!"

He huffs a breath, leaning back and pinching the bridge of his nose as though he has a headache as he regains composure..

You have no idea why.. But having him square off with you like that was totally hot.. The way he controls himself. Controls everything.. There's a powerful and intoxicating confidence to the man that you just can't deny turns you on.. "I'm sorry, Hunter.. I promise, I wasn't trying to get to you through your sister.. I know you don't trust me, but, would never do that.."

He nods, sighing as the tension leaves his shoulders.. "No, It's not you, Kirby.. I think I'm more pissed off at the fact you managed to get more out of Lacey in five minutes than I have in months.. She doesn't tell me anything.. But she had no problem talking to you.." He pushes the car door open, setting one foot outside.. "I've just gotta grab some things.. You coming?"

He grins devilishly, his golden hair bristles in the warm afternoon breeze and his eyes twinkle in the sunlight, the crisp black suit outlines his strong build and board square shoulders..

Hell yes you are coming, you don't want to miss a second of whatever plan he is cooking up..

You yank the door hand open and jump out of the car, quickening your pace to keep up with the viking's long, striding gait.. "Grab what things? Where are we?" You look up and down the street, you don't recognise this part of the city..

You know your uptown somewhere.. But exactly where, you have no idea..

"I live here.."

The gentleman smiles at you both and pulls open the heavy glass door to the foyer and the Viking gives him a stiff nod as the two of you breeze by.. He leads you across to the row of elevator doors and presses the call button for the lift marked 'private'...

As you follow him into the elevator, an excited energy coils in your belly at the idea of getting this glimpse into Hunter Paxton and his real life.. After all, he knows so much about you from his surveillance.. Where you live, where you're from.. But you know so little about him..

The doors open straight into his penthouse apartment.. "Holy.. Fucking.. Hell.." You almost gag at the luxury before you..

His apartment is ridiculous..

Floor to ceiling windows.. Marble tiles.. The whole place screams money, lots of it.. This is the last thing you had been expecting to find.. For some reason, it seems so unlike him to live somewhere so.. Flashy..

He chuckles softly.. Tucking his keys into his pocket as he makes his way through the apartment, disappearing down the hallway, his deep voice booming out from the bedroom.. "Make yourself comfortable.. This won't take long.."

You're almost too afraid to move for fear of knocking something over, and you don't want to touch anything because everything looks way more expensive than you could afford to replace.. Not that you don't make good money, most of it just happens to go towards Lucky and her education.. That's why you live downtown..

Well.. That and you find uptown folks to be total snobs..

"Umm.. Viking...?" You ease your way through the overstated, oversized space, moving down the hallway.. "Paxton?"

You peer around the doorway to the master bedroom to see him standing over a dark green duffle bag on the bed..

Guns and boxes of ammo spread around it, as he checks over a pistol in his hands with practiced ease.. "Jesus Christ, Viking.. What do you need that many guns for!?"

He looks up from what he was doing with a cocky smirk.. "I don't NEED this many, Duchess.. I just WANT this many.."

You snort.. Crossing to stand beside him, pointing to a small black handgun.. "Is that loaded?"

He shakes his head.. "No."

You pick up the gun.. It's heavier than you remember since it's been years since you held a gun.. Malcom has trained you to use all kinds of weapons, how to disassemble and clean them.. How to put them back together..

But you have never used one against another person.. Not since the night you shot your father..

He watches, impressed as you inspect the weapon, turning it over in your hands, unclipping the cool pieces of steel, breaking the pistol down to its components.. Laying them neatly in a line on the bed in front of you.. "Your apartment is like a morbid fucking museum.."

He laughs, never taking his eyes off your hands as you begin to reassemble the glock.. "You can't say shit like that to people, what the fuck is wrong with you?"

You laugh now too.. He sounds like Patrick, who is always giving you a hard time for what he calls your 'dry as fuck' sense of humour..

-click- - click-

The steel clips together easily.. "Tell me I'm wrong though?" You fix him with a challenging stare..

He shakes his head and packs his pistol away into the bag.. "Nah, you're definitely right.. I fucking hate it here.."

You snort, stopping still finishing your fiddling, the pistol now fully reassembled.. "Then why live here?"

He stops, pausing as if to seriously think about your question.. "You know.. I have no fucking clue.."

You drop the pistol back down onto the bed as he scoops up the rest of the weapons and packs them all, he then moves to the wardrobe, picking out a stack of t-shirts and a few sets of jeans..

You leave him to his packing, wandering around his mausoleum of a bedroom.. No paintings.. No decorations or sentimental items.. No homey touches.. He drops the packed bag at the foot of the bed with a heavy thud, catching your attention you whirl around to face him.. "What now?"

He takes a step towards you.. "I'll take you back to your apartment, we will have to wait until he contacts you again and then--"

You shake your head, your loose chocolate curls bounding around your shoulders.. "No.. I meant.. What now.. For us? What the hell is this?"

He takes another step, stopping right in front of you.. "What do you want it to be, Kirby?"

You step back, holding up a finger.. "Nuh-uh, don't do that.. Don't turn this into a game.."

He grins, mischievously.. "If it were a game.. It would definitely be your move, Duchess.."

You tip your head to one side..

Yeah.. It would be your move, after all, he had just apologised and offered to help you.. but you just don't know the rules of this game.. There seems to be some strange line between who both are and who you both pretended to be that night at the hotel.. "What did you and Patrick talk about earlier then.. Hm?"

You fold your arms across your chest as his smile falls from his face.. Playtime is obviously over.. He picks up the bag and tracks back out to the living room.. You trail after him.. Not done..

"Just that he was going to kill me.. The usual O'connor threats.."

You arch an eyebrow.. "Usual?"

He grins.. "The guy isn't exactly my biggest fan.. I may or may not have tried to kiss his wife.. After almost getting her killed.."

Oh god.. He put the moves on Yevie!

That is so ridiculous it's funny.. You let out a surprised chortle at the idea.. There could not be a more perfect couple than Patrick and Yevie, undoubtedly..

The Viking must have been able to see that, he's not stupid.. Or brain dead!

"What!?"

"It was before they were married, in my defence.." He holds up his hands, feigning innocence..

You nod sarcastically.. "Mmhmm.. But not before they were together, obviously..."

He shrugs.. "I told you.. I'm always wanting things I can't have.."

You scrutinise him as he watches you with a desire burning in his grey eyed gaze.. He's looking at you like you are one of the things he wants very much..

And true to form, just like he said.. He can't have you.

"Or is the fact that you can't have them-- precisely why you want them?"

He smirks now, pulling his keys from his pocket.. "Why, Miss Carter.. Are you implying that I'm only interested in the hunt?"

Bingo.. That's exactly what you're implying.. Also, he got there pretty quickly on his own.. Hunter Paxton lives up to his name.. A hunter by nature.. He knows exactly what your getting at..

Not typically the kind of guy you'd be thrilled to have as your baby daddy..

"Now wouldn't that be ironic.."