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“Suck it, punk. It’s cold.”
It was cold. She hugged her elbows to her body and tried not to shiver.
Hunter just sighed, but he moved fractionally closer. “I saw that Tyler guy. I heard the gunfire. I saw him shooting into the water, and I knew it had to be you.”
“How?”
The moonlight caught the rings in his eyebrow and made them shine. His voice was low, too low to carry past her ears. “Because I saw the way he went after you at the pet store.”
She said nothing, chilled now by more than just the air.
“So,” he said, facing forward again. “I followed the direction of the tide and told Casper to find you.” He paused, and she heard an odd note in his voice. She wondered if he’d been expecting to find a body. “We should probably call the cops.”
“Narc,” said Chris.
Hunter threw a glance his way. “Suck it, punk,” he mocked.
“Whatever.” Chris bent and pulled a stick out of the surf. Becca had no idea how he’d even seen it in the dark. But he whistled, caught Casper’s attention, and threw it down the beach.
The dog galloped away, his paws making wet sounds in the sand.
“You don’t think we should call the police?” she asked Chris.
“And tell them what?” Darkness hid his expression, but the derision in his tone was clear.
She could see the fires on the beach behind Drew’s house now. The flames had fallen to small piles of burning debris, barely flickering in the breeze off the water. The stretch of sand was empty of the kids that had been there before.
She looked up at Hunter. “Do you think it’s safe to go back?”
“Tyler and his friends are gone. They headed north, the way they came.”
When Casper brought the stick back, Chris flung it hard, sending it spinning into the darkness.
Hunter said, “Casper. Hier. Fuss.”
The dog abandoned the pursuit and bolted to his side.
Chris gave Hunter a dark look. “Killjoy.”
Hunter looked right back at him. His voice was level. “What do these guys want with you?”
“What the hell do you care?”
“They’ve clearly got an issue with you and they’re taking it out on Becca. For god’s sake, he brought a loaded firearm to the party.”
“A loaded firearm?” said Chris, his tone incredulous. “Jesus. You’re not really a narc, are you?”
Hunter flinched a little bit. “No.”
Becca thought of his dead uncle, the K-9 police officer. She wondered if his dad had been a cop, too. “Could we report Tyler for having a gun?” she said.
“He’s over eighteen,” said Chris. “It’s probably legal.”
“It’s not legal for him to be shooting at me,” she snapped.
Chris shook his head, and now his voice sounded tired. “You don’t want them after you, Becca. You don’t want their attention. Just stay away from them and you’ll be fine.”
“Like you’re fine?” said Hunter.
