The Beaumonts'

Hunter

When you get caught with your dick out minutes to one of the biggest games of the season, you have just two options.

Shamefulness or Shamelessness

Well, I chose the latter.

Did things get a little out of hand? Well, yes.

Do I regret it one bit? Fuck, no.

Seeing the captain of the Winter Wolves lose his shit was the highlight of my day and it doesn’t happen often enough.

The guy was a fucking brick wall.

On a good day, you’d probably get two words out of him at most.

But today I’d hit the right nerve and suddenly, Captain Stone wasn’t as cool and collected.

A grin stretched across my face as I pushed through the doors leading into the visitor’s locker room.

The feeling in there was electric as my teammates buzzed with the adrenaline of being the victor.

"As always boys, we reaped the fucking ice!" I yelled, pounding my fists against the locker to get their attention.

At my entrance, their excited chatter turned into loud chants of our team slogan.

Still grinning, I stood in the middle of the room and gave a short speech telling them just how fucking great they all were.

After a few more locker room celebrations, I headed for the showers and stood under the scalding water until the last of the ice-cold rink left my muscles.

By the time I stepped out twenty minutes later, most of the guys had already left.

I quickly dressed up and left the locker rooms.

My girlfriend had left right after we finished earlier so I didn't have to wait for her.

The parking lot was half-empty now but the lights made it a lot less creepy.

I spotted my car from thirty feet away and a cold fist wrapped around my chest.

No. No. No.

I’d spent four months saving up every birthday money and holiday cash because my dad believed in earning things even when he could have just handed it over.

It was my baby for fucks sake!

And now, there was a long deep scratch gouged from the driver’s door to the rear panel.

As I stood in shock, a car suddenly rolled past the exit and in the passenger window one of Raven Hill’s enforcers raised his middle finger at me.

“How’s that for a loss fucker?!”

Red exploded in my vision and I yelled, “Fucking assholes!” while lunging at them, but they floored the acceleration and I was left chasing the smoke from their exhaust pipe while their mocking howls filled the air.

I gave up running after them a few minutes later when they finally disappeared from view. My heart was pounding against my ribcage and the air was coming out of my lungs in short punchy breaths.

Motherfuckers! It's one thing to be a loser, it's another to key people's car after you lose.

God, I hated everyone on this shitty team.

After kicking a few cars on my way back to mine, I slid behind the wheels and keyed the ignition.

The entire drive home I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Every time I stopped at a red light, my eyes drifted to the side mirror like somehow it would magically disappear if I checked enough times.

But it didn’t.

“Fucking losers.” I swore aloud, stepping on the gas to take me out of their shitty neighborhoods.

Outside, downtown Chicago blurred past my windows, the old shabby buildings slowly replaced by increasingly expensive houses and cleaner streets.

The few times I had to come over to Raven Hill for a game at their arena, the transformation was always jarring.

One minute you were dodging potholes big enough to swallow a tire.

The next you were surrounded by lawns that I knew costs a shit ton to maintain.

By the time I turned into our neighborhood, my anger had settled into a simmering irritation.

But as our mansion came into view, every coherent thought flew straight out of my head.

Two police cruisers sat in front of my house, strobing red and blue lights across the front lawn.

There were a couple of unmarked black SUVs too and a huge moving truck.

For a second, I genuinely wondered if I’d driven to the wrong estate. But then I spotted my father’s Bentley.

What the fuck was going on?

Slamming on the breaks, I parked on the street because the driveway was blocked.

On my way into the house, I passed men in jackets, moving in and out of the house with boxes in their hands.

Our housekeeper, Maria, stood at the front steps with tears in her eyes.

Confusion stormed through me as I headed for her to ask questions, but I suddenly saw a man roughly yanking down an original painting that had hung above the fireplace for as long as I could remember.

That was mom’s favorite.

No way was I letting him be so careless with it.

“Hey, stop that." I said once I was close enough to grab him. "Can you tell me what’s going on?”

But he yanked his arm free and wrested the frame off the wall.

“Hey!” I called after him in disbelief as he walked away.

But he ignored me.

My eyes darted around the scattered room in a panic, until finally, I saw a familiar figure. Although her back was turned to me, I could tell it was her.

“Mom!”

She spun around so fast the pearls on her neck swung up, nearly hitting her in the face.

“Rose!”

Mom called out and literally ran across the room, crashing into me.

My arms automatically came up around her trembling frame.

“Mom,” I said, keeping my voice low and calm, even though my pulse was going haywire. “Mom, hey, hey. I’ve got you. What’s going on?”

She pulled back to look at me and my heart skipped a beat at the wet black lines tracking down her cheeks.

In all the years I've known my mom, I've never seen her cry.

There were the occasional fake sobs when she wanted to get her way but never like this.

Whatever happened was bad.

"Is Dad okay?" I asked as worry crept up my spine.

"Rose," She choked out and whatever she said next were unintelligible fragments as the tears clogged her throat.

It took me a while to piece together her words, but when they finally made sense to me…a ringing noise filled my ears and my stomach caved in.

“No. No. that’s—that’s not right.” I shook my head frantically. “Dad would never..”

“Hunter—”

“He wouldn’t!” I yelled, grimacing as my mother flinched. But I couldn’t calm down. “Who’s in charge here? I need to speak to someone right now.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a man in a dark suit giving directions to the men in jackets.

I went after him immediately, my fists clenched.

But before I deliver a punch to the back of his head, a hand closed around my arm and yanked me back.

“I know you’re the dumb one between us,” said a voice I hadn’t heard in three months. “But isn’t age supposed to improve your intelligence? I thought you played hockey, not took one to the brain.”

Irritation zipped through me and I turned around.

My older brother—aka my number one hater,--stood there in a rumpled T-shirt with dark circles around his eyes.

Cole looked like shit. More than usual.

I shook his hand off my arm. “The hell are you doing here?”

“Saving you from a felony,” he nodded toward the man I’d been headed toward. “You were about to put your hands on a federal agent, dumbass.”

“You’re the dumb—”

“Boys!”

My mother’s voice cut across the both of us, strong despite her tears. She stepped between us, one hand pressed to Cole’s chest as she looked up between our faces.

“Not today. I cannot do this today.” She choked and then her eyes landed on my brother. “Tell me. How did it go at the precinct?”

A closed emotion moved across his face and then he sighed. “It looked bad, Mom.” His voice was shaky. “They have a lot of evidence against him…Honestly, I don’t know if Dad didn’t do it. I genuinely don’t know.”

My mom made a sound like the air had been taken from her.

One hand flew to her mouth and the tears rolled fast down her face as she stared at my brother with wide eyes. “Why did your father steal money from the company, Cole? Why? He lied to me! Your father lied to me.”

Cole clenched his jaw and hugged mom.

I could only stare in shock as my brain reeled.

Just then the federal agent came over. “We are taking all the cars too, including that one.”

He pointed outside and I followed the direction of his fingers, gasping when I saw my baby getting a bright orange sticker slapped to the windshield by a man in latex gloves.

What the fuck?