Joseph Charles Hunt Novels & Stories

Within a year, Charles Lynch would stand in a courtroom wondering how an innocent man could be surrounded by so much convincing proof. And somewhere in the shadows of the ballroom they had all already forgotten, Robert Holt watched Charles leave and quietly congratulated himself. The first trap had worked perfectly. Charles had noticed the hunter. He still had not seen the snare beneath his own feet.

"This is Lucius Hunt." Mr. Hank slid into the seat. He did not offer his hand to shake. He did not smile. He simply pulled a small, black notebook from his inside jacket pocket and clicked a pen. "Mr. Hunt," Hank said, his voice level and professional. "What is the job?"

I pushed myself off of Joshua, who was gurgling as his life faded from his eyes but I didn’t make it far. James still had a hold of my wrist and he pulled me back to the bed straight into his chest. “You’re a Hunter… I should have known!” He growled, and his grip on my wrist increased until I thought he may break it. I bit back the pain and looked him deep in the eyes.

SILAS The piece of shit died before I made it out of town. I threw the door open and slammed it shut, my hand gripping the edge until my knuckles turned white. “Fuck!” The roar echoed into the night, my voice raw and frayed. I kicked the front tire hard enough to send a jolt straight up my leg, but the pain wasn’t enough. Not even close. Riley was gone. Taken. By him. Orin didn’t just hunt werewolves. He made a sport of it—stalking them, breaking them, killing them. And he’d gotten Riley. My gut twisted at the thought. I squeezed my eyes shut, fingers digging into my scalp as I yanked at my hair.

"You find anything valuable?" Silence. Charles glanced up at Halesbert, since he didn't get a word from him. He raised his brows in curiosity. "Did you find anything about Lucy Martinez?" Halesbert frowned, biting his lips in hesitation. "I don't think you're going like what I have found, Sir," he said, extending his hand with a folded paper in it. "Let me be the judge of that." He took it from his hand dubiously. Charleston exhaled heavily, and felt his hands sweating. He wondered why, because usually his hands would get sweaty whenever he was nervous. Perhaps the paper he's holding is the cause of it, he thought.

His input had her equally curious about him, it sounded as though he knew Lord Hunt personally. "You sound so well versed on the subject," Charlotte said and offered a smile. "I am Charlotte Barnes, historian. I was just doing some research." "Kaleb Mosey, I work with the agency here in town," the man replied and gave a nod to her in acknowledgement. "That would explain why you know so much about Lord Hunt then. Am I right to assume that the agency you mean is for vampire contracting?" Charlotte questioned. "Yes, that's correct. I work closely with Lord Hunt on his contracts. He's particular about what kind of assignments we offer him," Mr. Mosey said.

I was quick to hire the best investigators money could buy to find him. It took them three days to find him. Might have been less if I had found the patched letter on the floor earlier. Matteo Leone. Pretty boy had a pretty name. He was twenty three years old. There was nothing much on him, except his family and his hidden hobbies. He was bisexual. The folder contained rumors that suggested he was living under his father's thumb. I couldn't fathom how any father could treat their own child like hazardous dirt. So, I had searched for more.

He leaned closer to her, moving his lips near her face, Isabella looked away and his lips fell on her cheek. "You're pretty…" He complimented. Isabella was only filled with disgust for him. "Mr Hunt, this is inappropriate" she tried to maintain a distance by moving backwards on his desk. "Shh… don't move" Alex said to her. He noticed there was a little commotion ongoing outside his study room. The door pushed open afterwards and the man revealed himself. Adams Hunt had been trying to see his uncle after the incident that day, he needed to explain things to him. He'd never want to be on the bad side of the great Alexander Hunt who held all the keys to the Hunt family companies.

His reward will be to spend time with his father in hell. "You're still bleeding," Jasper says, pointing at my right leg. And on a clearer look, part of the leg that isn't stained with blood is getting whiter. Jasper rips off one of his pant legs and quickly drops down to tie the piece of cloth around my leg. It's an awkward but definitely not unpleasurable position: the big fierce Grant, looking more than a little wild in his ripped bloodstained clothes, crouched at my feet and tending like a motherly nurse. That's not something you get every day or ever. And he doesn't do terrible. He ties the tourniquet two inches from my wound and just firmly enough to stop the bleeding. He certainly isn

Hunt opened the door to Charlie’s room, and all of the attention shifted in that direction. “Oh, Mr. and Mrs. Ashton, you’ve arrived,” the doctor said as he stepped out into the hallway. He shook Mr. Ashton’s hand. “I’m Dr. Stephen Hunt. Pleasure to meet you. Charlie is doing quite well. Miraculously, the doctor aboard Carpathia was able to treat his frostbite, and he won’t need to lose any digits.” “That’s wonderful to hear,” Mrs. Ashton exclaimed. Meg took a step back toward the chair she’d been sitting in, toward the wall, toward the door at the end of the hallway.