Hunter: The Auckland Kings Crime Family Trilogy Book Two: Social Rejects Syndicate Read online

  Hunter: The Auckland Kings Crime Family Trilogy Book Two

  Social Rejects Syndicate

  A.J. Macey

  Contents

  Author Note

  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

  Epilogue

  Rival

  Chapter 1

  Want More Social Rejects Syndicate?

  Also by A.J. Macey

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Blurb

  When faced with danger, which do you choose: ask for protection from a violent organization or risk it and run?

  * * *

  Chloe Daniels had a choice to make after finding a single piece of paper she wasn’t supposed to see.

  * * *

  Her only hope at escaping the monsters now hunting her?

  The Auckland Kings Crime Family.

  Or more specifically, Hunter King.

  Cold. Angry. Callous.

  * * *

  The one thing she hadn’t anticipated was just how much the man assigned to watch her could hate her on sight.

  * * *

  Can Chloe make it to the end of her vacation without pushing Hunter too far, or will she end up risking the danger without him?

  * * *

  Book 2 of The Auckland Kings Crime Family

  Warning

  The Auckland Kings Crime Family series is a mafia romance M/F trilogy with each book following a different couple. Each book ends in a HEA and can be read separately, but please note these books contain mature content and may include references to violence, attempted assault, abuse, and other themes that some readers may find triggering.

  Copyright 2021 by A.J. Macey

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

  may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  * * *

  Cover: Sweet 15 Designs

  Editing: S. Ebel at Personal Touch Editing

  Formatting: A.J. Macey at Inked Imagination Author Services

  Dedicated to:

  * * *

  My daughter, Evelyn Rose.

  Do what makes your heart happy.

  Author Note

  Please note, while this book is set in Auckland, New Zealand with at least one major character based from NZ - it is written in American English and will lack phrasing and slang typical of the region.

  1

  Chloe

  The city streets of Auckland were crowded, but with the sunny weather and warm wind whipping around me, I could ignore the number of people bustling this way and that. The day so far had gone smoothly. I’d gotten in a lot of fun sightseeing and visiting all the usual tourist locations I had marked on my map. Something about exploring without being attached to my phone’s map app or other technology had always appealed to me, but now, glancing at the map in my hand, I tilted my head, attempting to identify where I had gone wrong. Somewhere in the last quarter of a mile of walking, I’d gotten turned around.

  Damn it, I knew I should have done an actual tour. Then maybe I wouldn’t be standing in the middle of the sidewalk, looking like “that” tourist. No, Chloe, you can do this. You’ve seen plenty of places and got lost plenty of times in countries that didn’t even speak English.

  And if you can’t, just stop and ask for some directions.

  While irritating, getting lost hadn’t been something I worried about, knowing there’d been plenty of trips before this one where it’d happened. With that reminder and mini-pep talk, I straightened my spine and glanced around, seeing if there was somewhere interesting to check out in the part of the city I was in, even if it wasn’t on my original plan for sightseeing that day. It wasn’t as if I had much else planned here in New Zealand for my two-week vacation over my university’s winter break. I had plenty of time to explore without worrying about coursework. I had figured what better way to relax before the upcoming semester than with a trip away?

  It wasn’t that I didn’t love traveling and seeing places in the United States, but there is always something special about going somewhere new, I thought lightheartedly, no longer frustrated at getting turned around. ‘There’s always a bright side,’ my father’s voice echoed in my head.

  On my third pass of scanning the street, I concluded there wasn’t anywhere eye-catching or interesting to visit other than some small shops, so I continued on. After another couple of blocks meandering down the sidewalk, I reached a long, narrow street alleyway, connecting to another busy street.

  Hm, maybe something worth seeing over there, I wondered, seeing several people walking around on the other side of the block. Besides, where’s the adventure if I just decide to stick to the tourist spots?

  Folding up the map, I debated if I should walk around to the next major intersection or cut across here. When I scanned the sidewalk, I nibbled my lip, noting it was still quite a ways away. I was always skeptical of alleys and other off-beaten paths when I was alone. When a group of three friends who were laughing and chatting loudly cut toward where I was without issue, I decided it would be okay. It isn’t like the alley is dark, damp, and scary. Starting down the narrow passage, smiling at the people walking past, I found my worries dissipate.

  There was a small dumpster off to one side that was an eyesore, but on the exposed brick of the businesses, there was colorful spray paint art I focused on. In my distracted state, I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings, and when I was about halfway down the alley, I heard a click. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, my senses sharpening. I recognized the sound of a blade. Spinning around quickly to locate where it came from, I saw two men off to the side near a dumpster—each with a shiny blade in their hand. I sprinted back the way I came. Hearing their quick footsteps approaching, my heart galloped faster with each step, but I only made it a few feet before an iron grip grabbed my upper arm. Yelping at the sharp pain, I stumbled.

  “Give us everything in your purse!” one of the men hissed, his grip tightening painfully as he yanked me to face them. Icy brown eyes stared me down, his lean fingers digging into my forearm. He was tall and thin, hovering over me while his partner crowded my other side. My breath caught at their proximity, and feeling the other man’s burly chest brushing against my shoulder forced me to curl inward, hoping to create some space between us.

  Please, please let someone come down the alley or hell, even look down this way.

  I prayed, knowing without help, I wouldn’t be able to do much. Trembling, I reached into my purse with my free hand. The small amount of cash I had wasn’t worth dying over, and as I tried to grab my wallet, I realized there was nothing else of importance or value. Their hard gazes and harsh frowns lording over me made me thankful my passport was safely secured in my hotel room.

  Come on, Chloe, just grab the wallet and give it to them.

  My feeble attempts to get my body on the same page as my panicked brain failed miserably. My fingers were shaking too hard to hold on to anything, let alone pull it out of my bag.

  “Hurry it up,” the burly man snapped, the cold metal of his knife press
ing into my side. The sharp point only made me fumble more, my body filled with too much adrenaline as I attempted once again to pull out the things in the large, cavernous interior of my purse.

  “Screw this,” the other one said, releasing my arm. Before I could be thankful he no longer held my limb in an excruciatingly tight grasp or reacted to my newfound freedom, he shoved me with one hand and snatched the bag with the other. Crying out at the sharp push, I scrambled to keep from falling, instinctively holding on to the strap, even though I knew I should have just let go. The man yanked at the bag again, and the movement painfully twisted my shoulder.

  The sharp sting of the second man’s blade raced through my arm and side when I wouldn’t let go, making me hiss in pain. The cut jostled me enough to finally release the strap I had in an involuntary death grip. I pressed my injured arm to my chest, applying pressure to the now bleeding wound.

  “Don’t follow us, got it? Or that little paper cut will be the worst of your worries,” the one without my purse threatened, swiping out with his knife for emphasis. His crazed hazel eyes almost sparkled as he eyed me where I stood frozen in place, nodding. I couldn’t move, even if I wanted to, too shaken to even try, especially with them still within eyesight. The man with my purse didn’t even bother to look back to see where his partner was or if I was following. He was already running down the alleyway with my bag clutched tightly in his hands.

  In my shocked state, something odd caught my eye as he neared the end. Something had fallen out of his pocket. No matter how much I wanted to see what it was, I stayed put, watching the other guy back away. It seemed to drag on, each moment of his retreat making my heart power louder in my ears, his cruel sneer sending a shiver down my spine. Just as he turned to run, I tore my eyes away from his hateful expression, catching a glimpse of ink on the outside of his forearm. It was a simple black tattoo of a flying ghost or reaper. I committed the design to memory, knowing it might help police later. That shred of hope was the only thing keeping me grounded.

  Time seemed to return to normal speed as I watched the men finally leave the alley. As soon as I was alone, my whole body shook, and I realized just how intense my adrenaline was pumping through my system. I took a deep, shuddering breath, clearing the spots flaring in front of my eyes from the lack of oxygen. I don’t know how long I hadn’t been breathing.

  Forcing myself forward, I knew I should have gone in the other direction, away from the men who had attacked me, but curiosity—even in my shocked stupor—got the better of me. It wasn’t far to where the man had dropped what I found to be a folded piece of paper, and I snatched it up quickly. Once I had hold of it, I turned and sprinted as fast as my shaky legs would allow back to the street where I originally came from.

  Being among the people walking around, I felt my adrenaline crash. Finding the first shop I could, I scrambled over to a man who was putting out a sign on the sidewalk.

  “Excuse me,” I murmured, “Do you know where the nearest police station is?”

  His eyes widened when he saw my bloodied forearm and hand. “Oh my God, are you alright? Do you need help?”

  “Uh, just the nearest police station,” I repeated.

  “Here, let me get you a clean rag or something for your wound,” he exclaimed, shoving his golden blond hair out of his eyes before running into his store and leaving me standing awkwardly on the sidewalk. My mind was sluggish, struggling to keep up with what was going on, but I was still too raw. There was probably no reason to be afraid of him, but I didn’t want to go into a strange location alone with someone I didn’t know. “This is all I could find that was clean. Do you want me to dial 111?”

  “No, it’s really not that bad.” Taking the small scrap of cloth, I pressed it against the wound. It was still bleeding, but not nearly as bad as it had been a few minutes ago. “I just want to report what happened as soon as possible.”

  “Are you sure? It’s really no trouble,” he offered again, holding up his phone. When I shook my head, he finally conceded, pointing to the side. “Nearest station is down that way. Take a right at the next light and go down two more intersections.” After committing the street names to memory, I thanked him, once more brushing off any more help before starting down the sidewalk.

  Lots of curious and worried gazes looked at me, a few people even stopping me to ask if I was alright or if I needed help, all of which I declined. At that moment, all I wanted was to be at the police station where I would be safe. I appreciated their concern, but I couldn’t shake the skittishness of them being strangers.

  In everything, I’d forgotten all about my phone. The thought pulled me from worrying about people who continued to glance my way. Panicking slightly, I reached back and checked my back pocket. A fresh wave of relief filled me, knowing I still had that lifeline if I needed it. Hopefully, I won’t fucking need it again, I grumbled ruefully. The thought nearly teetered my already precarious emotions. Focus on the next step, I told myself the same thing I always did when I was stressed or worried.

  According to the shop owner’s directions, the nearest police station was only three blocks away. As I walked, I focused on taking deep breaths and staying calm… well, as calm as I could. Panicking won’t help me, I chanted. Once I got the trembling to cease and my mind composed as much as possible, I started in that direction. I tried to recall everything that happened to every small detail, remembering what my dad had taught me. It’s always good to remember as soon as something happens, repetition always works. Granted, that was for tests, papers, interviews, and all things academia, but I figured this applied.

  “Welcome to the Auckland Police Station. What can I do for you today?” the front desk officer greeted blandly without looking away from her piece of paper.

  Forcing away the lump forming in my throat, I murmured the one thing I never hoped to.

  “I need to report a crime… a mugging.”

  Hunter

  “Anything?” Liam questioned as he walked into the conference room, where my brothers, Sam, and father had gathered for a meeting. Rolling his shoulder to loosen the stiff muscles, his bruised face cringed in pain. I dug into my pocket and pulled out a baggie of pain medication I carried in cases of emergencies. “Thanks,” my brother murmured, downing the dose quickly before he flopped into his usual office chair, glancing around at the four of us.

  “Nope,” Sam said with a frown. “After everything that happened with Harrison and his crew of Phantoms, they’ve seemed to vanish.”

  “How the hell can they disappear like that?” Theo cut in, waving at the papers strewn over the conference table. “An organization that big can’t just poof into thin air.”

  “Probably keeping their heads down and noses clean after Harper took out one of their head lieutenants,” I offered, remembering the sound of the gunshot as if I was still there on that construction site. “It has only been a week, maybe a week and a half, and all the police are still hot on their tails. It’d be smart.”

  “Yeah, but the Phantoms aren’t smart. They’re reckless,” our father, Oscar King, murmured, rubbing his jaw in thought.

  “Are you thinking what I am?” Sam prompted with a worried expression, his brown eyes narrowing on my father.

  “That there’s something going on we don’t know about?”

  “Yes, exactly my take on this,” Sam agreed. His frown seemed to deepen as he looked over the papers one more time.

  “So, what’s the plan?” I prompted. “Obviously, Harper and Liam are in the clear so far, but neither of them should really be near any kind of… anything with their injuries.”

  “Fuck off. You get into a two-on-one fight and see how you fair,” Liam muttered, groaning when he reached out to punch me in the arm.

  “See? And Harper’s got a cracked rib that’s still healing, meaning we’re down one King.”

  “Outside of trying to figure out what the fuck they’re up to, there’s nothing we can do other than continue our business,” Sa
m countered with a frustrated sigh, shoving a hand through his blond hair in a piss poor attempt to calm his irritation.

  “Theo, continue working with Sam to figure out what’s possibly going on,” my father rattled off orders, glancing around the four of us. “Liam, keep an eye on the garage until you’re healed and clear of the eye of the law. Hunter, head down to the docks and check on our shipments going out.”

  Nodding, I shoved up from my chair and started toward the door without complaint.

  My job’s not to worry about the Phantoms after that shit show last week? Hell yes, count me in.

  2

  Chloe

  My murmured words were soft in the noise of the police station, my voice sounding shaky to my own ears as I talked. Her head popped up at the sound, her eyes widening in surprise when she saw how shaken up I was, her gaze falling to my arm.

  “Do you need medical attention?” she asked in an urgent tone, pointing to my arm. I nodded.

  “I think I just need to clean and put a bandage on it,” I told her quickly when she picked up the phone, not wanting an ambulance. “It’s not deep, and I think I got most of the bleeding to stop.”