A Hunted Man (The Men of Halfway House) Read online




  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  The Men of Halfway House Book 2: A Hunted Man

  Titlepage

  Dedication

  Trademark Acknowledgement

  Hope

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  A Hunted Man

  Copyright © 2014 by Jaime Reese

  jaimereese.com

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or in any means—by electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise—without prior written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author's rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Published by Romandeavor, Inc.

  (Kindle edition) ISBN: 978-0-9914570-4-5

  (ePUB edition) ISBN: 978-0-9914570-5-2

  (Paperback edition) ISBN: 978-0-9914570-6-9

  First Edition, April 2014

  Printed in the United States of America

  Edited by Jae Ashley

  Cover art and formatting by Reese Dante

  Licensed material is being used for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted in the licensed material is a model.

  After surviving ten years in prison, Cameron Pierce is attempting to put the past behind him. He tries to adjust to his newfound freedom with a place at the halfway house and a job. But one lesson he learned in prison keeps him guarded: hope is a dangerous thing.

  Hunter Donovan, Assistant State Attorney, is a man of justice who loves a challenge. After a lifetime of putting his career first, a milestone brings him to a harsh realization—he's lonely.

  Hunter's world changes when he meets Cam. The wary young man intrigues him and awakens a desire unlike anything he's ever experienced. When Cam's past resurfaces and threatens to rip them apart, their budding relationship is challenged and Cam's hope for a future begins to dim.

  These outside forces hunting Cam will stop at nothing to send him back to prison. But they'll have to get past Hunter first.

  Dedication

  Para Mami.

  If you were with me today, you'd simply say…

  "I knew you could do it."

  I miss you.

  Trademark Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the following trademarks for company names and/or products mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Ferrari: Ferrari S.p.A.

  Google Maps: Google, Inc.

  Marine Corps: US Marine Corps, a component of the US Department of the Navy

  Oscar: Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences

  Starbucks: Starbucks Corporation

  Universal Studios: Universal City Studios LLC

  Walmart: Wal-Mart Stores, Inc.

  YouTube: Google, Inc.

  Hope.

  You can fear her,

  ignore her,

  resent her,

  but she will never abandon you

  when you need her most.

  Cameron Pierce didn't really know what to expect when the entire nightmare began days before his eighteenth birthday, but here he was, standing behind a large metal door waiting for it to open and grant his freedom. Nine years, eight months, two weeks, and five days of hell. Even though he had to stay in a designated halfway house for the next few months, at least he wouldn't have these bars or barbed wire fences to constantly remind him of his nightmare.

  He fidgeted. In exchange for almost ten years of his life, the prison system gave him a hundred bucks for expenses during transfer, and a plain, standard-issue cardboard box containing his personal items—a watch, ten bucks, and a pack of gum. Everything broken or useless, which pretty much mirrored his existence. He ditched the box and everything else then pocketed the cash.

  The gears of the large metal door ground as they inched open. Cameron shifted his weight from foot to foot, waiting for just enough space to squeeze through the door. He looked over to the guard and concluded he'd be better off attempting to walk out of this prison with a little dignity. At the pace these doors opened, he figured he'd age another decade in the process. He closed his eyes and counted, begging for a little patience to come his way. He finally heard the grinding stop and opened his eyes.

  There, in the middle of the empty parking lot, Sam leaned against a car with crossed arms and a smile.

  Cameron groaned as he finally exited the prison gates.

  Mr. Samuel Issacs, rehabilitation officer, also secretly campaigned for sainthood every chance he had. His job was to help a group of assigned inmates rejoin the world with others but his mission was to mentor them. Sam wanted to talk, help, and offer support. Cam, on the other hand, knew better than to open his mouth, and he damn sure wasn't going to risk Sam becoming some form of collateral damage.

  Cam had learned that lesson the hard way.

  "Hey, Sam," he said once he arrived where Sam was parked.

  "Hey, Cam. I thought I'd give you a ride to the halfway house instead of having you take the bus," he said as he opened the passenger side door of the car.

  Cameron waited, not sure if sitting in a car for hours with Saint Sam was a good idea.

  "C'mon, Cam. I can guarantee you the drive with me will be better than a busload of people coming back from Universal Studios with stinky feet and a crapload of gas."

  Cameron groaned.

  Sam laughed. "Besides, I already filled out the paperwork so you're stuck with me. Get in."

  Cam didn't say a word. He climbed into the car, sat in the passenger seat, and then closed the car door.

  "Buckle up, it's the law."

  "Are you kidding me?"

  "Nope, state of Florida, it's the law."

  "Since when?"

  "Just strap in so we can get out of here."

  Cameron groaned again as he pulled the belt and clicked it in place. He hated the way it cut into his damn shoulder. Who knew what else had changed while he was in prison. Just another reminder of things he had missed. He shifted in his seat only to have his movement limited by the seat belt restraint.

  Wonderful.

  Here he was, finally out of prison, yet somehow still found a way to be constrained in a small enclosed area. Hell, this was even smaller than the six-by-eight cell he'd called home for almost a decade.

  How ironic.

 
; * * * *

  "Wake up, sleepyhead."

  "Are we there yet?" Cameron mumbled as he tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

  Sam chuckled. "Nope. We should be there in a few hours," he responded before switching off the car. "We're just taking a break right now, stretch our legs and grab something to eat really quick."

  Cameron turned his head side to side to try to stretch his neck a bit then exited the car.

  "How long have we been on the road?"

  "A few hours," Sam responded as he came around the car to his side. "C'mon, I'm hungry," he added as he started to walk toward the rest stop entrance.

  Cameron followed at a slower pace, still trying to wake up as he stretched his arms. When he walked into the building, he stopped. His senses were assaulted by the sounds of pounding music, loud people bumping into him from all sides, coffee machines hissing, the mix of smells coming from the different food vendors, and the voice through the speaker informing someone their order was ready. He screwed his eyes shut and lowered his head. He tried counting, hoping to calm his breathing. Prison wasn't quiet but at least he knew what to expect.

  "Cam, you all right?" Sam asked.

  Cameron looked over to him and noticed the worry crease between his eyes. "Yeah, it's just culture shock, I guess. I could have used a warning."

  "Sorry, I didn't realize there would be so many people here. It's probably from that tour bus out there." Sam offered a comforting hand on Cam's shoulder. "Let's start with some food," he said, guiding him to the least busy food store farthest away from the gift shops.

  After placing their orders, they sat in a quiet booth by the window in the corner. Cameron looked around, observing every detail, comparing the current with what he knew a decade ago. They had TV in prison that allowed him to keep up with the national news. He knew cell phones were smaller and cars were bigger. He knew Obama was president and that people wore those flashing blue light things in their ear for their phones. What he had lost was the instinctive knowledge of the world that was closer to him. New sauce bottles, photos on the wall he hadn't seen, these damn sippy cup things for coffee everyone had in their hand.

  A pair of college-aged girls passed by, one smiled at him as she slowed her pace. He casually looked away as if he hadn't noticed. No sense playing a game he had no interest in winning.

  "That's gonna happen you know," Sam commented with a smirk.

  "What?"

  "Girls showing an interest. They don't bite," Sam teased. "Well, unless you want them to," he added with a chuckle.

  Sam didn't know. He wasn't sure how Sam would react, so he thought it best to stay quiet. It wasn't as if he shouted his sexual orientation from the top of C Block. That would have definitely garnered some unwanted attention.

  "What's with the look?"

  "Huh?" he finally said as if he weren't following the conversation at all.

  "You're a horrible liar, Cam."

  Cameron cringed. Sam could smell bullshit a mile away. Always did. That was why Cam avoided conversations at all cost regarding anything he wanted to keep to himself.

  "So why didn't you ever tell me you were gay?" Sam asked unexpectedly.

  Cameron froze. He'd managed to keep that quiet for years, but Sam figured it out as soon as the opposite sex circled like a bird of prey. He didn't know what to say so he shrugged as he looked down and played with his napkin.

  "It's fine, you know."

  Cameron looked up. "It doesn't bother you?"

  "Why would it?"

  "I don't know. I just figured it might."

  Sam laughed.

  "What's so funny?"

  "I guess I just forgot to tell you. I didn't think it would matter."

  "What?" Cam asked. Suddenly, he was blindsided by a thought. "Are you gay, too?" he whispered.

  Sam laughed even harder. "No, Cam. You know Em was the only one for me," he said with a wistful smile. He stood from the table when he heard their order number called out. "I'll be right back."

  Cameron remembered one of his conversations with Sam. Em, his Emily. How could he have forgotten and asked Sam whether he was gay. This damn sensory overload was messing with his brain cells. Shit. He knew better. Sam had one love in his life, his wife Emily, who had died a few years ago after a long battle with cancer. He remembered Sam telling him he didn't think he would ever be able to survive something like that again. Sam confessed it was the inmates he was charged with, 'his boys' as he called them, who kept him going, gave him the family he'd wanted to share with Em for so long. Cam closed his eyes and shook his head. Sam was more of a dad to him than his own father had ever been. In fact, the shirt on his back was bought by Sam. Literally.

  Sam returned with a tray of food.

  "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up Emily," Cam mumbled.

  Sam tousled Cameron's hair in a paternal manner. "Any chance to think about her is a good one."

  Cameron half smiled. Sam was so damn optimistic and sweet it made his teeth hurt. "I need some of your happy pills," he grumbled before taking a sip of soda.

  Sam chuckled and bit into his burger.

  "So what did you forget to tell me?" Cameron asked some time later.

  Sam was finishing the last bite of his lunch when he finally said, "The halfway house you're going to."

  "Yeah?" Cameron encouraged.

  "It's run by Matt. Matthew Doner and his partner, Julian Capeletti."

  Cameron looked at him suspiciously. "Partner as is business partner?" he asked.

  "No, well, yeah, but as his 'partner' partner, too," he said, using air quotes.

  Cameron knew he must have had a blank look on his face.

  "Do you prefer the term boyfriend instead? 'Cause if you say that around Julian, he'd probably kick your ass," Sam said before finishing off his soda.

  Cameron didn't know how to respond. It was a mix of not knowing what to say or do and the realization that he would be living under the same roof as a couple who wouldn't be bothered by him being gay.

  "They're cool, you'll like them," Sam said as he placed his empty cup and items back on the tray. "That is, assuming you ignore the occasional puppy dog stares and suck face they sneak in when they think no one is looking."

  Cameron's eyes widened. "You're kidding right?"

  "Listen, they're great. Matt is very easy to talk to. Julian makes a strong first impression but he's a teddy bear. Just don't tell him I told you that," Sam warned. "I think you'll fit in perfectly."

  Cameron finished his drink as he exited the booth while Sam dumped the trash in the bin and looked at his watch.

  "C'mon, Cam. We need to make sure we don't hit traffic or we'll miss the deadline," Sam said, picking up the pace a bit.

  Cameron knew better than to start things on a bad note. Even though Sam was taking him to the halfway house, it was still considered a prison transfer, a furlough, with a very strict timeframe to arrive at his destination. He damn sure didn't want to start raising any red flags this soon after his release. He picked up the pace and headed out to Sam's car, glad to escape the sensory chaos of the rest stop service plaza.

  "They want to enter a plea."

  Hunter Donovan, Assistant State Attorney, tore his focus away to look at his assistant. "Of course they do, because they don't stand a chance in hell," he responded in a level tone then turned his attention back to review the case file on his desk.

  Hunter looked up again to see his assistant worrying his lip. "What is it?"

  Jessie Vega fidgeted with the files in his hand. "They're outside."

  "So, walk out there and tell them no."

  "He brought a team this time. It's not just the one attorney anymore. They won't take no for an answer."

  "Oh really?" Hunter said with a raised eyebrow. He loved a challenge. The staff endlessly teased him on the appropriateness of his name. When Hunter decided to take down someone in court, the defendant became his prey. He was proud of his win statistics, but more so for the legitim
acy of them.

  "Wait—" Jessie started when Hunter launched from his chair to the office door.

  Hunter exited and looked over to his left to see a group of three sharply-dressed men with briefcases surrounding the accused. There was no way this thug was able to afford the obvious high-end team of attorneys. One of their designer suits could easily pay several months of mortgage payments for most people.

  The man he assumed hired this crew was the leader of the rapidly growing drug problem in town. The only tie between the drug pusher in the midst of the suits to the newly self-appointed drug kingpin was a simple marking on the nickel bags on the street. The same emblem found on the supply when this idiot was busted trying to hire a hooker for the night while transporting the stash. For some reason, the drug king wanted to keep this moron around. He just hadn't been able to figure out why.

  He put on his game face and walked over to the team of men. He stood directly in front of the thug while his eyes scanned the accompanying crew. After making eye contact with each of the attorneys, he looked to the accused, and said one word, "No," then turned to walk away.

  "Mr. Donovan, we wish to make a plea," he heard someone say forcefully.

  Hunter turned again to face them. "Do you wish to tell me who hired you?" When he didn't get a response, he said, "As I said, my answer is no."

  "You are making a grave error, Mr. Donovan."

  Hunter slowly took a deep breath and walked back to the attorney who spoke from the group. "Are you threatening me?"

  "No, Mr. Donovan, of course not," the man returned with an equal stare.

  "Sounded like a threat, and I'm certain the entire office will agree with me." Hunter knew he was playing with fire but he needed to say something that would draw the room's attention and shift the power from the team back to him.

  As expected, he heard a hum of chatter from his staff quickly followed by complete silence.

  The attorney looked away briefly. "I simply meant it would be to your benefit to listen to our request."