Page 42 of Hunted: Season Two

And sexy.

And powerful.

And the most soul shaking thing I’ve ever experienced.

Envy isn’t here because I share a frivolous concern with my other partner.

It’s here because part of me wishes I had a friend like that.

Someone to just talk to.

Someone I’m notwithromantically.

Someone to gush about the adorable way Mutt makes sure my feet are tucked in at night or how The Kid has been looking into ordering a fancier coffee machine or how they’ll sometimes share a morning kiss when one’s taking a leak and the other is on their way into the shower.

I wish I had someone to talk to about the idea of starting a family someday and how I secretly fear Brad did something to me to prevent that from being a possibility.

I wish there was someone in my life I could just…vent toabout everyday frustrations without worrying about them trying to fix it or fight about it.

Don’t get me wrong.

Ilovemy men.

I love them more than life itself.

I knew that long before I hit that asshole in the head with a shovel nearly killing him.

I would just love to have a little bit of an existenceoutside of them, the way they have oneoutside of me.

The moment Post and the coroner are officially somewhere down the road, the two men step back inside the garage, shut the overhead door, and lock it.

Per usual, Garcia begins letting music flutter through the air as a counter communication measure; however, this time, the song choice completely captures The Kid’s attention. “Is this…Nirvana?”

“Smells Like Teen Spirit.”

“On a fucking cello??!”

“Technicallytwocellos, but good ear.” An impressed expression appears on Garcia’s face at the same time he places his phone down on the counter beside me. “And they were a great duo.”

Familiar joy flashes through my boyfriend’s gaze encouraging Mutt to lovingly declare, “We’ll look into them over breakfast, Kid.”

His nodding in excitement is followed by our attorney casually announcing, “Which I will happily let you all get to just as soon as I verify, we’re all on the same page about our next steps regarding my vehicle’s remodeling.” Garcia waits until he’s certain he has everyone’s focus before continuing. “How’s that new t-bar?”

“Untouched,” Nolan informs on a small tip of the head toward the toolbox on the other side of Kipp.

Thankfully, this phone analogy isn’t difficult to follow.

Given the uncertainty regarding so much circling us, our attorney decided to do what it is others do when needing to talk yet worry about unwanted eavesdropping. The fact my men work in a mechanic shop makes the choice of reference naturalas well as easy to disregard as being anything other than run of the mill shoptalk.

“And the spiked lug nuts?”

This time, it’s Kipp who responds. “Still in their packaging. Ready to go whenever.”

While staging the torture kill session with the bounty hunter wasn’t that difficult, deciding which route to take with his burner was a different story. Ultimately – thanks to the man in the suit – using it to lure the others out by giving them false tips regarding my location was the idea chosen. They’ll all be sent a text at the same time from the dead guy’s burner sending them to various areas where Garcia will have arranged for local authorities to arrest them for whatever initial trumped up charges, he’s convinced them to before whatever ones they’ve actually committedthuscutting off Brad’s muscle supply.

At least momentarily.

From there, the overly paid attackers will most likely begin turning on one another along with Brad – money talks until prison talks louder – which should buyustime to devise a more in-depthoffensiveplan rather than being stuck indefense.

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