Page 95 of Only the Hunter

“One more thing,” I say. “Can you trace who accessed Lina’s location data after her transfer?”

“Already working on it,” Hudson says. “But DHS systems log access by clearance tier, not individual users. We’ll have a list of who could have accessed it.”

“That’s enough,” I say. “For now.” We’ll be on a flight home later today. We’ll pick this up back in DC.

“Gabriel,” Quinn says before I can hang up. “This isn’t just corruption. This is architecture. Whoever built this understands federal bureaucracy better than most people inside it.”

“I get that,” I say.

“Be careful,” she adds.

I end the call and stand there, phone warm in my hand.

This wasn’t panic.

This wasn’t a local cover-up.

This was institutional capture. Systemic. Patient. Designed to function without anyone inside the system realizing they’d been co-opted.

And Evie—brilliant, relentless, refusing-to-be-silenced Evie—walked straight into the middle of it.

The shower shuts off.

In a few minutes, she’ll come out of that bedroom expecting to talk about next steps, about which office to push on, which name to chase.

She’s not going to like what I have to tell her instead.

Because the people capable of building something like this don’t stop when they’re seen. They adjust. And the two of us are variables they’ll want to remove.

Chapter 20

Evie

Last night loops through my head as I get dressed. My body is still warm and sensitive, like he hasn’t quite let go of me yet. I’ve gone from elated to anxious and at times frustrated, because I’m an adult woman, and I don’t appreciate being undone by my own feelings. Sex has never sent me into a tailspin before, and yet here I am with flushed skin, distracted by flashes of memories. The brush of fabric, the stretch of muscle—everything echoes us. Of course, Gabriel isn’t just anyone, and that’s the problem.

But why is it a problem? Why am I second-guessing my decision—and it was my decision. We’re two consenting adults. We’ve known each other for most of our lives. We’ll take it day by day. Get to know each other in this new way. If it works out, good. If it doesn’t…we’re still adults. We’ll adjust. Our friendship will absorb the new dimension and, eventually, move past it.

Gabe’s a good guy—his integrity is more solid than anyone I know.

The nervous sensation that has me on edge? I’m scared. I fear being hurt—and that’s normal. It’s a new-to-me sensation because right from the get-go I care about him. We skipped right over the get-to-know-you stage. Logically, I grasp it all.

But it’s not him breaking my heart that should scare me—it’s what will happen if he becomes collateral damage, in this case or any future case. That fear is more unnerving than anything else. If he was just a guy I was dating, there’d be no risk. But he’s putting himself beside me—someone was photographing us. They already know everything they can about me—Gabriel had to be the research target.

If something happened to him… I can’t think about it. I can’t go there. It’s too much. Logically, I know his risks are his to choose. He entered the Army for heaven’s sake—the man’s not averse to risk.

But he’s no longer in the Army and risks are much lower in the NSA.

If something happened to him because of me… With one last glance at the woman I do—and don’t—recognize, I exit the bathroom.

Gabriel sits at the desk, a notepad beside his laptop, coffee beside the hotel’s phone. His stern expression, the grip of the pencil—it’s clear he’s working. But it’s the way his eyes snap to me—focused, intent—that tells me everything before he says a word. And the way my body reacts to it? That’s new.

“What is it?” I ask.

“We got some new information. You want coffee?”

I step past him, moving to fix myself a coffee. “What did you learn?”

“We’ve tied it back to the cartel. To El Pastor.”