Hunters - Matt Rogers (good novels to read TXT) 📗

four miles back. A quick shower, then an MMA sparring session with Slater. The two of them going at it every day on the mats was a relatively new development, but it was proving more effective than any sparring they could find at the local combat sports facilities, which usually involved holding back on eighty percent of their abilities so they didn’t decimate the competition and draw unwanted attention to themselves. After sparring, he’d napped for two hours, rested for another three, then hit the closest powerlifting gym for an old-school chalk-assisted strength session of squats, deadlifts, and cleans.

Now he was utterly spent. He’d sleep nine hours tonight without any trouble.

Violetta traced a finger across his chest, working her way down to his stomach, then lower…

She said, ‘Shame about that.’

King smirked with his eyes closed. ‘Your appetite’s voracious.’

‘When’s the last time we had the house to ourselves?’

‘Touché.’

Slater and Alexis were out on the town for dinner, which was a strange occasion given their lifestyle. Of course, hitting the town used to be Slater’s everyday routine, coupled with the consumption of every substance under the sun to drown his traumatic memories. But that was precisely why he didn’t do it anymore. It’s a whole lot easier to stay dedicated and disciplined when you don’t allow yourself any temptation whatsoever. Going to the Strip, surrounded by all that hedonic materialism … it was a recipe for disaster. Every square inch of the Vegas establishments were designed to suck in vulnerable souls, coaxing them into feeding the city their sobriety and then the contents of their bank accounts. Slater was strong, but it only took one slip-up to go back to the way things were, so he never gave the bright lights the opportunity to seduce him.

But that was then.

Back when they’d first moved here, Slater still had adjustments to make — a new relationship, a new home, a new existence. There were fresh habits to form, different surroundings to adjust to. It was tumultuous, and that wasn’t even taking into account the way he and King had severed their relationship with their old employers.

Now, there was routine, which gave him the stability to enjoy a night out for dinner with Alexis without getting swayed by the bright lights.

They’d returned from Wyoming two weeks ago, concluding a chain of events that began with a sad woman on a park bench. King offered to help her, which led to the discovery of an underage sex trafficking ring run by an insidious handful of Vegas’s public officials. With that situation handled, they’d followed the money that funded the trafficking operation. It took them to the Bahamas. They’d toppled an illicit financial empire on Grand Bahama, and that in turn led them to another funded operation — Mother Libertas. The extremist cult was in its foundational stages when they stumbled across it, and it was horrifying to think what it might have become had they never chanced upon it. By cutting the head off the snake they disillusioned its followers, and its existence was exposed to the mainstream media days later, nullifying any chance of the cult rising in the shadows.

Then they came back home.

A hard reset on their globetrotting endeavours.

A couple of weeks had passed without incident, which was strange. Chaos had become the new normal.

Now Violetta said, ‘How do you think Will’s handling dinner?’

King said, ‘He’ll be fine. He might even enjoy himself.’

‘That would surprise me.’

‘Would it?’

‘Las Vegas is an evil temptress. I’d say he’s stymying the urge not to drink. It might be a hard fight.’

‘Then he’s right at home.’

Her fingers paused at the crown of his hair, hovering there. ‘Do you miss the carnage?’

‘It hasn’t even been a month.’

‘Still…’

‘I don’t miss it. But I’m not entirely comfortable without it.’

‘Remember what we spoke about before that mess in Wyoming?’

‘An intermission until our baby arrives.’

‘What do you think about it?’

He looked up at her. ‘Do you see me patrolling the city looking for trouble?’

‘Because you haven’t got the itch yet.’

‘I won’t get it,’ he said. ‘And if I do, I’ll ignore it. Nothing’s changed.’

‘Have you thought about being done forever?’

He closed his eyes. For a long time he didn’t answer. Outside the sun went down, and the “smart home” system kicked in. A timer synced to the daily sunset time ticked over, switching a pre-selected variety of interior lights on. They were mostly floor lamps to tastefully elongate the shadows, giving the estate the atmosphere of a homely ski lodge warmed on a winter night. It was Alexis’ touch, much like the rest of the interior.

She had just as much of an eye for artistic decoration as King and Slater had for violence.

But this place was more than that. It was also a home, deliberately imperfect, intentionally messy, with belongings scattered across surfaces. King and Slater’s previous residences — a pair of adjacent eight-figure penthouses on the Upper East Side of Manhattan — had lacked that touch. Those apartments had been sparse, minimal, ordered to the point of artificiality. They weren’t homes. They were training dens, containing nothing that didn’t serve a purpose.

This was a new phase of their lives.

A human phase, where they could live instead of rigorously optimising every aspect of their existence. They still used the principles of efficiency for their work — their training, their fitness, their combat abilities — but outside of that, they could be themselves for the first time in their lives.

But, King realised, the work still had to be there.

Work and play. Discipline and relaxation. Yin and yang.

Finally King said, ‘I can’t. Not forever. It’s not who I am.’

‘And if our kid ends up growing up without a father?’

‘Then, hopefully, some day he or she will understand. That if I go, it’ll be protecting others. Probably people I don’t even know. Hopefully that shows our kid how to live a good life.’

‘By not living your life at all?’ she said. ‘By being six feet under? That’ll inspire your child?’

He looked up into her eyes. ‘You’re