Page 142 of Only the Hunter

“Gabe’s on his way back.” I’m aware of this; he texted me. That’s why I finally decided to venture downstairs.

“Do you want some light?”

“I’m good.”

“Are you texting Gabe?”

He should be driving, but maybe he’s using voice-to-text.

“Nah. My girlfriend. Daisy.”

“Oh. Is she here in DC?” But as I ask the question, I realize I know nothing about this man. “Do you live around here?”

“I live all around, it seems.” A lazy smile spreads across his face and he flips the phone face down on his leg, giving me his full attention. “Daisy’s in Chicago. I’ve got a rental in the mountains in NC. But I go where the job takes me, and Daisy’s got the kind of gig where she can work from anywhere, so she comes along more often than not.”

I tap the light switch and the chandelier comes on. I take a seat in the armchair across from him, positioned with a direct line of sight to the kitchen—where Gabe will come in through the back.

“That’s nice,” I say, and he nods.

“Yeah. It is. You get used to having somebody with you, you know?”

I actually don’t know. I’ve always pictured myself more like Katharine Hepburn—happily living apart from whomever she loved, protective of her solitude. The image feels less certain than it used to.

“I guess that means most of what you do is safe?”

He points an index finger at me, smile widening. “If you’re probing for Gabe, you should ask him.”

I’m about to correct him, but he drops the finger and continues.

“Now me, I had a little health scare not too long ago—a heart thing—and everybody worries. That’s probably half of why Daisy agrees to traipse around with me. So if I’m on an assignment, you can bet they’ve decided it’s going to be fairly low-key. I do a lot of sitting and watching.”

“Babysitting,” I say. “That’s what you’ve been doing all afternoon.”

“Might feel like that, but that’s not what it is.” He tips his chin toward the window. “Me sitting here on this sofa—if anyone was thinking about coming up to your house, highly unlikely in broad daylight in this part of the city, but if they see me sitting here, they’d probably turn away. Wait for a better opportunity.”

That’s not exactly a comforting thought.

“So you’re like the empty cop car sitting in a parking lot.”

“Exactly. Except in this instance, someone’s sitting in the car. I’m deemed fit for action.” His expression is easy, unhurried. “You’re safe.”

“I’m not questioning that.” I mean it. I didn’t think I’d want him here today, and I spent the afternoon half-convinced the precaution was unnecessary. But there’s something I registered every time I heard him shift on the sofa, every time his footsteps crossed the floor—a loosening in my muscles I hadn’t expected. “Have you worked for KOAN long?”

“Coming up on a year.” He studies me for a moment. “Have you known Gabe long?”

“Very long,” I say, leaving the details out.

He nods like that’s enough. “He cares about you.”

The observation is simple. Matter-of-fact. Like he’s telling me something obvious. It settles over me strangely, but it’s not unwelcome.

“Would you like something to drink? Tea? Water?”

“If you’re getting tea, I’ll have some.”

“Any preference? Peppermint, lavender, green?”

“Oh.” He pauses. “You meant hot tea. I’m good.”