HUNT, OR BE HUNTED

CHAPTER 9: THE MONSTER

"No. It isn't that," the dark-haired, thirty year old man glanced up from his iPad. "Honey, forget it, okay? I'm telling you, I ain't involved in any of that."

His wife, looking sublimely beautiful under pale moonlight, sighed loudly. "No, it's just that...I've heard people saying many things about us, bad things. One even said you were a drug dealer or something. I can't take it anymore, Bane. I can't."

At the sound of that, Bane put down the device, and moved over to where his wife was sitting. He wound his arms around her, gave her a peck on the cheek. She smelled of lotion and powder. "Don't believe whatever they're telling you, Martha. They're just jealous of us."

"Really?" her voice was soft, uncertain. Her eyes were on the ebbing tide below, not far away from the house. The clouds drifted past the full moon, unraveling its dull light that cast down on the couple. It was as if nothing else existed but them.

"Really," Bane turned her around so that she was facing him. "I won't let anyone hurt us, I promise," he vowed. There was something about him that made Martha believe in him. That was why she loved him-he was someone she could trust, someone who would never lie to her.

Martha didn't say a word. She leaned in towards her husband, and wrapped him in a tight embrace. She loved him more than anyone else in the world. And, as if he could read her mind, Bane whispered, "I love you too."

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The front door burst open at the impact of his broad shoulder. He looked right, and then left. Good, nobody was around. He dashed to the back of the house, fumbled in the drawers for the silver key. Where was it?

"Looking for this?" Bane pivoted at the sound of the house owner's voice. A silver key dangled from his stubby index finger. "Didn't think I'd meet you in such a way," the sturdy, big-framed man said. He was a man of high reputation around the town area. That was probably because everyone was afraid of him.

"Jones," Bane chuckled nervously at his friend.

"Bane," Jones nodded in reply. "What the hell are you doing in my house?"

"I was just...I want to shift the money somewhere else," Bane said, studying Jones' every move. "I can't let my wife know about this."

"It's about time you told her about the drug-dealing, Bane. You've been hiding it for too long. And, either way, the police will find out about it sooner or later," Jones plopped onto a makeshift sofa that sunk under his weight.

"You're not helping at all, you know that?" Bane muttered, exasperated.

"I just want to know why you tried to steal the key. If I hadn't caught you, you would have gotten away with all my money. And why do you want to move the money somewhere else?"

"I have to, Jones. What if I get exposed?"

"We made a deal, Bane. You promised me half the money because I helped you with all that dealing and stuff."

"And I am keeping to that promise. But what's important now is to stash it somewhere else other than the old shed behind my house. It's not safe there anymore."

"Why now? It's been there for years, and you want to move it now?" Jones raised his dark brows.

"It's my wife. She's sending someone over to clear the shed. What if they find our treasure? Worse, what if she finds it and reports me to the police?"

Jones thought about it for a moment, stroking the stubble on his chin. "Okay, I'll help you hide it elsewhere. But remember, I get half of it."

"Yes, I get it, Jones," Bane nodded, frustrated that his plan to have all the money by himself had failed. "I'm sorry, I should have just called."