Page 122 of Only the Hunter

Her father does the same thing. Calls it love.

“I’m nothing like your father.”

“Aren’t you?” She turns and walks away.

The door to her office upstairs closes.

Not slammed.

Just closed. Firmly.

The sound is controlled yet final.

I’d almost prefer if she’d slammed the damn door.

I finish taking measurements.

Then I text Quinn the specs and wait for the cameras to arrive.

Protect the perimeter.

Control what I can.

Because inside this house, inside that closed office door⁠—

I’m not sure how to fix what I just broke.

Chapter 24

Evie

Brie Anderson pulls up in front of my house in a RAV4 rental.

I open the front door, Gabe hovering behind me, meeting her before she reaches the steps.

“You really didn’t have to come all the way here to get me. I could’ve met you.”

She looks right past me to Gabe, and there’s an unmistakable smile tugging at her lips. “It’s not a problem.”

What she’s not saying is Gabe would have never gone for that, and I have to breathe deeply through the irritation.

I don’t look back at Gabe. Nor do I say goodbye.

I do half-heartedly wiggle my fingers in a barely cordial wave before tugging her car door closed as she flips off the emergency lights that she turned on, as if that would save her from a ticket if the parking police spotted her maneuver.

While Brie checks her side view to safely merge into traffic, I study her, this Amazonian woman who Gabe assures me is highly skilled and will keep me safe. Her blonde hair falls in soft waves down her back. The rounded curves make me think she used hot rollers. I can’t remember the last time I did anything more than let my straight lifeless hair air dry. Her makeup is expertly applied, complete with perfectly drawn eyeliner that makes her blue eyes pop.

It’s a good thing she didn’t go into law. She would’ve inspired a raft of Legally Blonde jokes.

I inhale deeply and let my head fall back, releasing some of the pent-up venom. I went to bed somewhat early to avoid the icy tension in the house. I expected to wake up and find Gabe left for his home, but I suspect he slept beside me. I’m not absolutely positive though. When I woke, the other side of the bed was slightly crinkled, and there was a pillow indentation. For all I know, he lay there waiting to see if I’d wake up, then sauntered down to the guest room.

This morning he made coffee and informed me Brie would be stopping by for this meeting. A meeting scheduled on my behalf—using my connection with my father.

It’s annoying as fuck, but I have to remember that this is bigger than me. I’ve lost DOJ resources, but I’ve gained a determined group willing to cross lines, and if this is how they work, I’ll deal.

With them, at least, it’s uncomplicated. Hudson and Quinn make decisions without asking because that’s their job—cold, efficient, professional. It’s not personal.

Gabe is supposed to be different. That’s what stings. Not the locks. Not the cameras. The fact that the one person I let all the way in decided, without a second thought, that his judgment mattered more than my say. I’ve worked hard to become someone whose opinion matters.