HUNTER (The Caine Brothers Book 1) Read online

  Copyright 2015 by Margaret Madigan

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarities to real persons, living or dead are purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  ISBN: 978-1-943430-03-1

  Formatter: E-Book Builders

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Other Books by Margaret Making it Right

  Faerie Fate

  Gambling on the Outlaw

  About Margaret

  Contact Margaret

  For The Reader

  To Wren Michaels without whom the Caine Brothers would never have been conceived (of).

  Hunter Caine prowled the bar at his father’s wedding reception. The only way he’d survived the tedium of the ceremony had been the knowledge there’d be plenty of alcohol later.

  “Hit me again,” he told the bartender, placing his second empty on the counter. If he was lucky, he’d be able to escape early; if not, he wanted to be good and drunk if he had to stick around for the duration.

  “It’s not all that bad.” Hunter’s brother Xander met him at the bar holding up a finger to signal the bartender he’d take one of the same.

  “I hate weddings,” Hunter said.

  Xander took a long draw from his beer, then said. “Don’t blame you. After watching Dad do it so many times, I’ll be surprised if any of us get married. You’d think he’d be sick of throwing these big parties.”

  “He loves the attention. It’s just another way to say fuck you to everyone who doesn’t have as much money as he does.”

  “Joke’s on him,” Xander said. “The guests come for the free food and booze. They know it’ll be expensive and plentiful. They don’t give a shit about him getting married again.”

  “Let’s hope he quits at four. The novelty wore off a long time ago.”

  “Maybe we’ll get another brother out of this one.”

  Hunter gulped his beer. “I’m thirty-one. Why would I care about any kid he had now?”

  “Harsh, man.”

  “Whatever. So where’s the rest of the gang?” Hunter did a quick scan of Xander’s cleaned-up wedding look—jeans, biker boots, a white button down, and a black sports coat. He wore his longish blond hair down, and at least his facial scruff was neatly trimmed. He even managed to cover most of his ink.

  “Brothers or bikers?”

  Hunter smirked. There were enough brothers to make a gang. “Both.”

  “Bikers are staying at the state park. The rest of the brothers are lurking around here somewhere. I think we’re all waiting for the earliest possible escape.”

  “Did I hear someone say escape?” Damian said, separating himself from the crowd and joining them at the bar.

  “Speaking of brothers—” Xander said.

  “You’re a SEAL. Don’t they teach you how to withstand all kinds of torture?” Hunter asked.

  “There’s nothing the navy can teach us to survive this kind of shit.”

  Damian ordered a shot of whiskey and downed it in one swallow, then ordered another. As the tallest of the Caine Six, as his father referred to his offspring, Damian was the huge wall of muscle everyone expected from a SEAL. Among his siblings it was also well accepted that he held his alcohol better than the rest. It would take a lot more than two shots of whiskey to lubricate him through the reception.

  “Well said,” Xander said.

  “What are you boys drinking?”

  Hunter closed his eyes for just a moment and sighed as his father, Dalton Caine, approached them through the crowd. Surprisingly only one woman followed him. Usually an entourage of men and women trailed behind him. Hunter only vaguely wondered where the new wife had disappeared to already. He didn’t care.

  “Dad,” Xander said by way of greeting.

  Damian threw back another shot and gestured to the bartender to keep them coming. He threw his father a nod.

  “Congratulations, Dad,” Hunter said.

  “Thanks, boys. You know where the rest of your brothers are? I’d like to have a drink with my sons.”

  “I think I saw Jaxon hitting on some chick not long ago,” Damian said. “And Bishop’s probably sitting in a corner somewhere, brooding.”

  “No idea where Colton is,” Xander offered.

  “Well, no matter. I’ll catch up with all of you a little later. There’s still plenty of party left.”

  As much as Hunter wished there wasn’t. The look in Damian’s eyes said he agreed.

  “I was actually looking for you, specifically, Hunter. I want to introduce you to Allison McDowell. I just hired her a couple of weeks ago as my personal assistant after Elizabeth left, but now that I’m retired, she’s all yours. You haven’t hired a girl of your own, yet, have you?”

  Hunter’s gaze slid from his father to the woman a few steps behind him. He’d spent the last month facilitating a project on the other side of the state, so he’d missed his father’s newest acquisition.

  Tall, blonde, and with model-perfect looks, she was saved from being Barbie-boring by sharp blue eyes, lips thinned in disapproval, and arms crossed under impressive breasts. She wore a conservative navy dress and heels that made her long legs appear even longer. She looked ready to stab someone.

  He could relate.

  His first instinct involved a twitch of his cock and the desire to pull her hair down and run his fingers through it. Leave it to his dad to hire the most beautiful woman he could find as an assistant. He liked to have eye candy in the office. Said it made it more pleasant to be there. For the most part, Hunter disagreed—he didn’t need the distraction—but where Ms. McDowell was concerned he might be willing to make an exception.

  Hunter stepped forward and offered his hand. “Nice to meet you, Allie,” he said, dipping his voice into a smooth, charming timbre.

  She looked ready to spit fire, which piqued his interest even more. “It’s Allison, actually.”

  He nodded. “Then it’s nice to meet you, Allison. And no, Dad, I haven’t hired anyone yet.”

  He’d worked with the company since finishing his undergrad degree in business, and while completing his MBA. He’d had an assistant until just recently when she left for maternity leave, then informed him she and her husband would be moving.

  It had been on the tip of his tongue to tell his dad he’d hire his own assistant now that he ran the place, but Allison intrigued him. His father’s sexism clearly pissed her off, but not enough that she’d quit already, so she must need the job—or want it. The fire in those baby blues suggested intelligence and spunk, two very useful traits in the real estate development business.

  Her firm, professional handshake surprised him. He’d expected meek from a pretty personal assistant, but she met his gaze without the least bit of intimidation, and if he wasn’t mistaken, maybe just a little bit of challenge. Interesting. He made most people—women especially—nervous. Money and position had a way of doing that, and he’d had both for so long he didn’t even think about it anymore. But as the up-and-coming CEO of Caine Development Corp., the pandering and flattery had been especially prominent.
Allison didn’t offer him any of that bullshit.

  “It’s good to meet you, too, Hunter,” she said, emphasizing his given name in response to his use of hers. “I’ll look forward to speaking with you again in the office on Monday.”

  “I can’t wait.” He threw her a suggestive wink.

  She frowned and released his hand, then turned to Dalton. “Thank you for inviting me to your wedding, Mr. Caine. It’s been lovely, but I have a previous engagement this afternoon. Congratulations on your marriage and your retirement.”

  She flashed an insincere smile at them all, pausing just a beat too long on Hunter, then turned on her heel and left.

  “Wow,” Xander said. “She’s not at all what I imagine when I think of a personal assistant.”

  “She’s fucking hot, though,” Damian said. He elbowed Hunter in the ribs. “Make it a little easier to go into the office?”

  The same thought had crossed Hunter’s mind, though on second thought maybe he’d come on a little too strong with the winking and charm. He didn’t want to scare her away, or worse yet, come across like his father. He was anything but a chip off the Dalton block. Maybe the alcohol and his general dislike of his father’s weddings had gotten to him.

  “Just think of her as a cherry on top of the multi-billion-dollar company you inherited from me,” Dalton said, a big grin on his face.

  As the oldest son, and the only one interested in taking over the company, it had fallen to Hunter to assume the helm. The rest of his brothers had their own career interests and had never been left wanting for money either from their father or from their own efforts.

  “Who’s the blonde beauty stomping out the door?” Colton asked as he joined them. “Hey Dad, congratulations.”

  Dalton slapped Colton on the back. “Thanks, son. That blonde beauty is Hunter’s new personal assistant.”

  “Lucky you, bro.”

  “So where’s the new wife?” Hunter asked, changing the subject away from himself.

  “Gwen’s with her daughter, Cassie, and her parents, having a family moment. I figured I’d do the same.”

  “Aren’t we all one big happy family now?” Xander asked.

  Dalton shrugged. “Gotta give it some time for everyone to blend. Her parents don’t really like me. Don’t trust me and my money, apparently.”

  “And Cassie? She doesn’t like you, either?” Xander asked.

  Dalton shrugged as if the stepdaughter’s opinion was of no consequence to him. “She’s only eighteen, and shy.”

  “Guess we have a sister now,” Colton said.

  Hunter snorted. “I almost wish I still lived at home for a chance to see Dad try to raise a girl.”

  Dalton waved a dismissive hand. “She’s going to college in the fall, so it’ll just be me and Gwen.”

  “Darling,” Gwen came up behind Dalton and linked her arm with his. She wore her long black hair swept up, and her wedding attire was a modest champagne-colored suit rather than a girlish white gown. In her mid-forties she was at least ten years Dalton’s junior, but she glowed when she looked at him, beaming like the new bride she was. Hunter hoped Dalton could make her happy, though knowing his father Hunter figured Dalton was more concerned with whether Gwen could make him happy than the other way around. “The band is about to play the first dance,” she said, tugging on him to follow her.

  Dalton turned and kissed her, and to Hunter’s surprise it seemed like he did it with genuine affection. Hunter hardly remembered his own mother. She’d died of cancer shortly after Damian was born. The two stepmothers who had produced Jaxon, Colton, and Bishop had come and gone without the kind of tenderness Dalton showed Gwen. Rita, Jaxon and Colton’s mother, had died in a car accident, and when Dalton discovered what Sylvia, Bishop’s mother was, they’d split and Sylvia had disappeared back to the nature she loved.

  “Certainly, my sweet.” Dalton patted her hand and turned to lead her away. “Don’t go anywhere, boys. I still want that drink with all my sons.”

  Hunter groaned. So much for a quick escape.

  Monday morning at eight a.m. sharp, Allison showed up at the executive suite of the Caine Development corporate offices in downtown Houston’s Caine Tower. After Dalton Caine’s wedding and reception on Saturday, she’d gone home and written her letter of resignation. No woman needed to put up with that kind of misogynistic bullshit, no matter how prestigious the company. She didn’t hold out any hope that Hunter—the oldest Caine spawn—would be any different from his father, especially after the flirting at the wedding. As if he was entitled to treat her that way because he paid her. Not very professional at all. She could find another job with a better company—maybe one run by a woman—to give her a foot in the door of the corporate world.

  Determined to blaze her own career trail, she’d decided when she finished law school and passed the bar not to become a mindless hundred-hour-a-week minion at some law firm. When she’d graduated she’d started looking outside the box for jobs in the legal departments of unique, innovative companies where maybe she could accomplish both the learning process of the hundred-hour-a-week job in addition to working in her field of choice.

  However, she’d needed an income while looking for her dream job, which had led her to take the PA job at Caine Development Corp.

  She pushed open the brushed glass door of the executive suite to find Missy, the receptionist, sitting guard at her desk.

  “Is Mr. Caine in?” Allison asked.

  “Yes,” Missy said. “But you don’t have to ask me. You work here.”

  Not for long.

  She’d worn her best power suit—a charcoal gray pencil skirt and fitted jacket with a light blue silk blouse underneath—and her favorite black pumps. She wanted to appear as professional as possible.

  She crossed the suite and passed through her small office outside the CEO’s. She popped her head into Dalton Caine’s office—now belonging to Hunter Caine. At least Hunter didn’t leave his door closed like his father had, forcing anyone who wanted an audience to knock for permission to see Himself.

  “Mr. Caine?” Allison asked, alerting him to her presence.

  He stood at the wall of windows, reading something on a tablet. He’d shed his sports coat. The slacks, matching vest, and white shirt with sleeves rolled to just under his elbows was a good look for him. But distracting for her. Seriously, did the man have to look so good? It made it difficult to focus.

  “Miss McDowell—Allison—come in. We need to talk.”

  She stopped short, shifting her attention away from his attire to his tone, which if she read him right, hinted at something negative. “Actually, yes, we do,” she said. She wanted to beat him to the punch, if there was a punch to be beaten.

  “Do you mind closing the door? And please, have a seat.”

  He moved to his desk and sat behind it as she closed the door and took the chair opposite him.

  “Listen, I spent some time thinking this weekend, and—” Allison began.

  “That’s good to hear,” he said, interrupting her. She bit her tongue to temper her irritation. “I did the same, and I want you to know that even though my father hired you, that doesn’t mean I automatically inherit you. You’re not a piece of property. I’d be happy if you stayed, but I don’t want you to feel obligated.”

  His words came across as sincere and contrite after the way he’d treated her over the weekend, and his expression suggested honesty. Yet, she wasn’t sure what he meant by not feeling obligated to say. Did he want her to quit?

  She paused and considered him for just a moment. He had to be early thirties compared to her late twenties, but he carried himself with a mature confidence that had to be borne of his wealth and name. He was just used to people following him and doing what he said, and he was clearly comfortable with it. Standing somewhere around six feet tall, his lean form spoke of fitness, but not obsession with body image. He kept his dark blond hair short and neat, and since she’d seen him on Saturday he’d
shaved the hint of stubble he’d worn to the reception and now his face was smooth as a baby’s behind. His most striking features, though, were his bright blue eyes, the straight, strong nose he shared with his father, the crease in the forehead between his eyes that spoke of his constant concern about Important Matters, and a complete lack of smile. His lips were nice, as was the square jaw, but she wondered how a smile would transform his face, if at all.

  “You know nothing about me. Why would you be willing to keep me on? Unless all you plan to have me do is make coffee and file paperwork.”

  The ghost of humor lurked at the corners of his mouth, but never really manifested into anything even close to a smile. “Missy makes very acceptable coffee, and is an accomplished filer. Besides, my father and I may not do things the same, but I trust his instincts.” He looked down at his tablet, then back at her. “What do you know about resorts?”

  The out-of-context question threw her. “In what capacity?”

  He swung the tablet around and pushed it in her direction, so she could see what he’d been reading. A prospectus on a luxury resort in Costa Rica filled the screen. She pulled it toward her and scanned the history, financials, property information.

  “Well, it’s making a modest profit, probably needs some upgrading, but it’s in a beautiful location with plenty to do.”

  “I’m thinking about buying it as an investment property. You’re right about the location. It’s perfect. I want to make it a destination vacation—a luxury resort for relaxing on the beach, but add an adventure element so guests can get an adrenaline fix in the jungle.”

  Excitement buzzed in his voice, just under the surface.

  “Sounds good.” She had no idea why he asked her opinion, though.

  He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk, lacing his fingers together. No smile, but an eagerness filled his eyes. His attitude drew her in and made her want to share it.

  “Good,” he said. “I need your help. Right now it’s a couple’s resort. I want to go in undercover to get a real feel for the place before I make an offer. That way I know what I’m actually getting, as opposed to everyone putting on their best show for a potential buyer.”