Page 48 of Only the Hunter

“I went by your place.”

“Why?” Michael has never been to my home. I’m sure my address is available to him, somewhere, somehow as we’re colleagues, but I certainly have never shared it with him.

“I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“I told you I’m fine.”

“But I wanted to hear it in a place that we couldn’t be overheard. So you can be honest. Will you be back soon?”

“Are you still at my house?”

“Haven’t driven off yet. If you’ll be home soon⁠—”

“I’m out of town,” I say, in a tone slightly softer than I typically leverage with Michael. It’s kind of touching that he cared enough to stop by to check on me—but ‘touching’ isn’t Michael. He’s as competitive and cut-throat as they come—something I should never forget.

“When will you be back?”

“I’m not sure. It depends.” My shoulder muscles tense, possibly from the long flight, but…. Michael at my door, asking where I am, pushing for details—it doesn’t sit right.

Outside the taxi the sun filters through clouds, and a stunning view of the lake unfolds, a reminder of Switzerland’s beauty.

“Evie. You’re not...” He mumbles something I can’t catch. “You didn’t take a leave of absence to continue working on a closed project, did you?”

“I’m visiting a family friend.” The instantaneous lie has me turning away from the window and catching Gabe’s gaze head on. He doesn’t bother to look away. His expression is unreadable. “I’ll give you a call when I’m back. If you need anything, feel free to message me.”

Normally, I’d tell him to email me, but I no longer have remote access. It’s not an ideal scenario, given my team will have to message me on a secure messaging app if they have questions, and I won’t have case information readily available, but given I’m no longer in the country, this is no doubt the most secure solution.

When I end the call, Gabe’s still watching me. “Is he your boss?”

“No,” I say. “Colleague.” But he definitely acts like he considers himself my boss. But that’s how he treats everyone. “Did you get everything settled?” He spent a long time on his phone messaging someone.

“Just going back and forth with the team.”

“Did you take time off to come here?” I aim for casual, but this odd sense that a lot hangs on this answer climbs from my gut to my throat.

“No,” he says. “KOAN supports my trip. You insisted on covering the flight, but if you give me a receipt, I can expense it.”

I flatten my hands on my thighs and breathe in deeply. I knew there was a chance he’d been around because he was hired. The wave of emotion ungrounding me is a symptom of a restless night’s sleep. I’ve never handled my emotions well when I’m tired.

“What is it?” His fingers brush the back of my hand, and I jerk it away. “Whoa. Are you mad?”

The driver glances at us in his rearview, and I become aware of the instrumental song playing on the radio, an unfamiliar symphony mix.

Avoiding his gaze, after a calming exhale, I answer with my question. “Who hired KOAN to provide my security?”

“Wait.” He shifts in his seat. “I’m not your protective detail.”

“No?”

“Evie.” His hand settles on my knee, heat instantly seeping through the denim, and I fight the urge to push it off. “I told you I wanted to come before I even briefed the team.”

The prosecutor in me isn’t buying it. “Then why would KOAN pay for a trip to Switzerland?”

“Rhodes MacMillan.”

I blink. “What about him?”

“He’s a KOAN partner. Has been since I joined.”