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Hunter froze. He watched for a moment.
Nothing.
Stupid. This house was way back off the main road. It could have been a deer, or a tree branch moving in the wind. All he could hear was his breathing and the water hitting rocky breakers. He dropped his guard and let the elements speak to him—but whatever it was, the elements didn’t mind its being here.
But something about it had bothered him, caught his attention and held it.
He kept thinking of Calla in his bedroom, sneaking in to hold a gun against his cheek.
He wished he had a weapon. He wished he had a weapon right now.
“What’s up?” said Michael.
“Nothing,” said Hunter. “I thought I saw something.”
He was ready for scoffing, because there was absolutely nothing around, but Michael put a hand to the ground and tilted his head. “I don’t feel anything malicious.” He paused. “But I’ll pay attention.”
Hunter kept his senses wide open now, laying stones as Michael directed, but focusing most of his attention on the road.
Michael glanced over. “Does this have something to do with the fight you didn’t have?”
Hunter didn’t look at him. “No.” He shrugged. “I’m just on edge.”
Another stone went on the wall. Michael wiped his forehead against his sleeve. “Does this have something to do with why you were ready to level the Home Depot?”
Hunter’s hands went still on the rock in front of him.
Michael didn’t say anything else, just laid another one without stopping. He flung the stones like they weighed nothing, and they slid into place perfectly. Hunter would have called him a perfectionist, but he’d bet Michael did it without thinking.
Another stone hit the wall, and Michael glanced over. “Think and work at the same time.”
Hunter grabbed a stone, letting a slow breath out. “I wasn’t going to level the Home Depot.”
“Maybe not intentionally.”
Hunter ran through the last twenty-four hours. Calla. School. Kate. His grandfather. Spending the night in his car.
Jesus, his throat felt tight again. He slammed the stone into place, feeling the impact all the way up to his shoulders.
Michael flung a stone next to his and remained silent.
And after a minute, Hunter realized he was going to stay that way. Michael wasn’t going to push. Hunter relaxed into the rhythm of the work again.
Then he felt . . . something brush his senses. His head snapped up.
Just as Casper growled from the grass nearby.
Wind came off the water to blow across the lawn, toward the road. The air carried no power, no direction. No help there. The sun had dropped behind distant trees and houses, leaving long shadows tracing across the grounds. Michael had a hand against the dirt, his eyes trained on the clusters of trees now.
Hunter thought of Calla again and wondered if she’d been following him, whether she’d choose this house to set on fire, just to screw with him.
But she would have had to follow him all day, right?
Casper growled again.
There! Movement. Definitely someone in the trees.
Hunter didn’t realize he’d started forward until Michael grabbed his arm. “Wait,” he said.
