Hunt Me Down - Chapter 47: Chapter 47

Nathaniel's POV
"That."
He took Raph and the brush out of my hands and dipped the latter in the water before beginning to scrub the turtle's shell. Neither of us spoke; I was waiting, he was stalling.
Hunt turned on the tap to a small stream and placed Raph under the running water. Perhaps he wasn't going to talk about jail.
The tap was off and he went into the room. I followed. He put the turtle on the floor without sparing a glance at me. Perhaps he wasn't going to talk at all.
He returned to the bathroom and I heard the swoosh of water; Hunt must've removed the plug. How long did he plan not to speak to me?
He walked back into the room, a frown on his face.
"I'm not sure how much I should tell you; there are other people involved," he began, leaning on the doorframe.
"So... You are going to tell me?" I couldn't hide the surprise in my voice.
"Some of it," he nodded. "It's a long story."
"Give me the gist of it," I incited, stepping towards him. "I just want to know why..."
"Because Blake is an idiot and he wouldn't have lasted in jail."
His reply rooted me where I stood, just a couple of feet from him, my eyes large and my jaw slack.
"Blake?" I repeated in confusion. "Your friend Blake? What does he have to do with it?"
Hunter walked to the bed, gesturing for me to follow as he did. He sat on the edge with legs apart and his elbows on his knees. His body turned slightly towards me when I sat next to him at an angle so that I could see him better.
"The reason why I spent only a year in jail was because I gave myself up and confessed. Well, there were a few other factors, but mostly that," he added. "And the reason why I confessed to something I had not done..."
"You didn't do it?" I interrupted and he narrowed his eyes at me, irritated that I had interrupted him. "I'm sorry," I hurried to apologize, my hands raised at about the level of my shoulders, palms facing him. "Please, go on."
"I don't enjoy talking about this, Nathaniel, so you might want to stay quiet," he warned before carrying on. "The reason why I confessed to something I had not done was because Blake Nelson is an idiot and got mixed up with people who he shouldn't had gotten mixed with and who were going to let him take the blame for something that was only partially his fault. As I said, he wouldn't have lasted in jail so I told the cops that I did it. That's the gist of it. And you can talk now," he added when I spent about a minute just staring at him.
"You are innocent?" I'd listened to his story, but I needed one more confirmation; I'd spent so many months thinking he'd done something wrong. Unfortunately, the confirmation was not what I'd expected and only made things worse:
"Of this, yeah. I'm guilty of other things though."
My foot twitched on impulse and my fingers drummed over my knee.
"What things?" I asked quietly, back to the point where I both wanted and dreaded to know more about Hunter Harris. If I intended to have a relationship with him though - and I very much wished that - I had to know.
"Fighting. Stealing. Mostly fighting though."
He'd said that calmly as if it was no big deal, as if breaking the law was just a pastime.
"Have you..." I licked my lips. "Have you seriously injured anyone?"
"You've asked me that before, Nathaniel; you know I have."
"Who?" I questioned almost silently.
His eyes enlarged in bewilderment. A confused smile appeared on his face and he gazed at me intently as if he was trying to figured out if I was jesting with him. A short snort left his mouth before his reply:
"You can't expect me to remember all their names."
"All?" It was my turn to stare at him wide-eyes. "There was more than one?"
"A lot more," he assured me. "It wasn't just when someone crossed me; I used to fight for money."
I jumped off the bed and began walking in small circles. My feet paused and my mouth opened, but he cut me off, answering exactly what I was going to inquire after:
"You don't want to know about that," he summed up. "Besides, that's in the past now."
"But you..." I began circling again. "Was it random? Was it organized?"
He sighed and leaned back in the bed, covering his face with his palms.
"What does it matter?" His voice came out muffled.
"I want to know if there were any rules and if..."
He removed his hands and gave me an unflattering look, one that you would give to a child that asked something as ridiculous as 'How much does the thirty cents gum cost?'
"You think that if it is organized, there will be more rules? That it would be safer?" He rose slightly, using his bent elbows as a support. "What's next? Asking me if they gave us dental?"
I stopped pacing and crossed my arms over my chest, frowning. Hunt had cut down on his snappy remarks when we got together; I wasn't glad that his attitude was returning.
"I'm not exactly savvy on the subject of illegal fights," I remarked through a clenched jaw. He raised an eyebrow at my uncharacteristic loss of temper and got back to a sitting position.
"Do you really want to know about that?" I nodded. His eyes narrowed again, this time not in annoyance, but in contemplation. "But you have to promise me that you won't do any research on what I tell you. You won't ask about it, you won't google it, you won't... do whatever you do when you conduct a research," he seemed to have run out of ideas other than verbal inquiries and the popular engine. I nodded again, pulling my lips in my mouth and biting them; I didn't want to speak in case my voice appeared crude again and prompted Hunt to keep quiet.
"It's dirty and rough and our objective is to entertain those who bet. The better the fight, the higher your rep goes; the higher your rep, the higher the bets on your fights; the higher the bets on your fights, the more money you get if you win. Simple economics, really." He paused, planning on what else to share. "The Ring has some rules though: no weapons, real or improvised ones; just your fists and kicks," he began as coolly as if he was reading a groceries list. "No biting, no gouging out your opponent's eyes, no killing." I took in a sharp breath at the word, but he went on as if he had not heard me.
"They wouldn't call you an ambulance, obviously," he snorted at the ridiculousness of the idea, "so if you know what's good for you, you'd go with someone who won't be fighting that night so they could drive you to the ER. The only thing the Ring employees are going to do if you pass out on the arena is to throw your unconscious body out so that it wouldn't get in the way. Not near the Ring, of course; even with corrupt cops that's overblown and cocky. Not good for business..." He was staring at Raph's aquarium, but his eyes found mine. "Had enough or do you want the ugly details?" I shook my head. "Come here." He reached out and pulled me towards him. I made no attempts to fight him as he directed my body into a sitting position on his bed.
"Confused?" I nodded.
"Do you need some time alone?" I shook my head.
"Are you going to actually say something?" A hint of impatience crept in his tone.
"I don't know what to say," I uttered. "Why would you do that?"
"For the money," he explained simply.
"But you were hurting people, Hunter." I emphasized the term.
"They were hurting me back," he replied. "They were there to do the exact same thing I was: get some cash. Maybe let off some steam."
"I still..." Something bumped into my foot and I looked down. Raph was slowly crawling under the bed, jabbing me with his limb in the process.
"This is why I didn't want to tell you." My eyes rose to him when he spoke. "It's all in the past for me, but I knew you wouldn't understand. Your lifestyle is too different for you to understand."
"It's a lot of information to take in at once," I noted. Organized fighting, gambling, ER-s, Hunter's innocence... It was too much to take at once. I felt as if my brain was giving up, slowing down, until it could do nothing but regulate my breathing.
Hunter was capable of cruelty; even if the other participants knew what they were getting into, he still hurt them. He was also capable of extreme loyalty; why else would he confess to a crime he had not committed?
I closed my eyes when a reason other than friendship came to mind.
"Were you in love with him?" My voice was barely above a whisper. I was afraid to pose the question I really wanted to ask: 'Are you in love with him?'
What if the answer was yes?
"No. But I liked him more than I liked anyone else," his voice was firm. When I opened my eyes, I was met by a steady gaze. "It was pretty close to love, I guess, but I wasn't nor am I in love with him."
"Do you like him more than you like me?"
Could he see the extra water in my eyes?
"No. And I don't even think of him in that way anymore; not since a while after I met you."
I got up and looked out of the window. Tears were about to roll out of my eyes and I didn't want him to see that; I wasn't even sure why I was crying. I'd done more of that in the past couple of weeks than I'd done in the last couple of years.
Hunter didn't follow me to the window. Perhaps he realized I needed some space; he was an astute guy, he must've known how I felt. I was grateful that he was allowing me to save face; it showed he respected me.
I kept looking beyond the glass, at nothing in particular. I managed to keep the tears at bay, but I couldn't help a sniff. The gears of my brain began to turn, invariably gaining speed. I began to analyze the information I'd received, making my conclusions about Hunter and how these new bits of his past could affect us at present. There were a lot of negative emotions, a lot of things I would rather not muse about, but one thing was clear: Hunter cared for me and trusted me.
And that was a good thing.