Page 23 of Hunted: Season Two

“She’s right,” our boyfriend quietly croaks, forcing our gazes back to him. “Keeping her locked up in the highest fucking tower isn’t making us any better than the asshole trying to find her. She can’t – fuck that –we can’tlive locked away. That’s not living. That’shiding. That’s turning us into prototypes that never see the light of day versus letting us burn the tread off our wheels on the strip.” A heavy, defeated sigh shakes his frame. “We can’t let that motherfuckerwin.And staying locked up – the way he had her living before she got here – gives him that shit. We’ll give Rabbit more space…” He shifts his eyes to her. “But one of us willalwaysbe within screaming range. There’s strength in numbers. We’re gonna fucking use it.”

Her reply is just above a whisper. “Understood.”

“I suggest avoiding large crowds and major cities for the time being,” Garcia adds to the conversation. “Spend more time here in Death Canyon and if you get a little stir crazy do shit on the outskirts closer to Crystal Waters or in familiar,trusted, already vetted settings rather than new places.”

The three of us nod in comprehension.

“Fair warning. It’s probably gonna take me a little time to flush him out, so don’t go planning your honeymoon anytime soon.”

“Somewhere tropical,” Nolan unexpectedly states. “I wanna see The Kid coming out of the ocean soaking wet in slow mo’ while Rabbit’s wearing coconuts on her titties and serving me a beer.”

“You have to wear ‘em on your balls and serve me a mojitofirst,” she sassily sings and resumes her doodling.

“What did I just say?” Garcia playfully pokes prior to rolling his eyes.

“All I heard was honeymoon,” our boyfriend jokingly informs.

“Forgive him,” Bunny momentarily meets Garcia’s gaze. “He’s going deaf in his old age.”

Chuckles leave me and Nolan both, yet the other male in the room manages to stay focused, “I actually need to ask you something fairly invasive, Bunny.” Our laughter instantaneously morphs into low growls. “Not in that department.”

Our protective noises cease, yet my grip tightens as she says, “Go for it.”

“Do you think there’s any chance he chipped you?”

Her lack of an answer encourages him to search further.

“He used to put cameras and recording devices in your apartments. Yourlocked, hardly leftapartments. He tracked your phone. Internet history. He put a tracking device on your vehicle. Have you ever considered the idea that maybe he chippedyouas well? That his ability to track you isn’t based on something you’rewearingordrivingbut something physicallyinside youthat maybe he installed while you were drugged?”

Wordless bobs are all that she manages to deliver.

“I’d like to get you checked.”

Feeling her body begin to tremble has me squeezing her tighter.

Trapping her closer.

Declaring she’s safe in spite of the way the questions clearly make her feel.

“Let’s just cover all our bases with this sonofabitch, okay? Just a quick body scan and blood test to verify that his surveillance isn’tliterallyin you.”

We wait for her to agree yet no sounds ever reach our eyes.

“I’ll get you in to see my sister. She owns her own private practice in Spike Village and hosts free clinic hours for the community as part of an outreach program that also works with the teaching hospital twice a month. The next one is in a couple of weeks. We’ll get you in under a fake name and have you all come to the office in disguise onthat day, so that if McAdams has someone watching me or her, you won’t stand out. You’ll just blend in with the others that randomly show up.”

Bunny sinks further into my grip as if the weight of the idea alone is too much.

I wanna say it’sbeyondfucking farfetched.

Back to the Futureflying cars level type of shit.

But her earlier comment is what’s keeping my mouth closed.

Silently thanking our attorney for being so on top of every model idea that crosses his mind.

And it has to be silent.

I’m not sure I can thank him out loud without it sounding sarcastic.

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