Page 40 of Hunted: Season Two

“Take my phone!”

Tilting my head to one side occurs in wordless curiosity.

“It’s a burner to his burner so you can’t trace it, but maybe you can see where his calls have like bounced on towers or some shit?! Or text him to back the fuck off?? Tell him she’s moved on and that you’re not bodyguards, but boyfriends! Maybe he doesn’t know that?! Or…or…tell him the cops are closing in?! That they’re looking for him! Or…or…or…oh! The other hunters?! You can try to find them! We kind of share information shit between us. Agreed to divvy up the big payoff if anyone’s shit actually helped anyone else catch her.”

“All viable options,” Nolan all knowingly hums. “Question is…where do we begin after we kill you?”

Chapter 8

Bunny

Post folds his arms across his chest and slowly nods. “According to the coroner, this is an open and shut situation.”

Probablynotwhat I would brand this moment, but that’s not my job.

In fact, the only thing I’m supposed to do is sit here and look pretty.

Well, pretty and petrified.

Garcia says it’ll sell the whole thing better.

And it is a sell becauseno partof me is scared about what we did or what we’re capable of doing.

It’s actually rather empowering.

I like that feeling.

I like that they helpcultivatethat feeling.

“First that attempted mugging in Crystal Waters,” Post continues, concern caking itself in his tone, “then John left on your doorstep like garbage, then the gravesite vandalism, and now a violent home invasion?” He shakes his head in obvious disbelief. “You’re havin’ a rough go of it, huh, Woods?”

The Kid does his best to sympathetically smile from his standing position that’s beside my counter sitting one. “Seems that way, Sheriff.”

“They say when it rains, it pours,” Post cryptically sighs, warranting my stare away from the “Stayin’ Alive” lyrics I’m doodling on my boyfriend’s hand over to where Post is lingeringin the open garage beside the other man in my life. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t flood. You hear me?”

Mutt grunts in agreement yet says nothing.

Because his job is to stand there and look pretty.

Well, pretty andprotective.

And the former isn’t difficult, especially in those jeans I swear are wearing him versus the other way around.

Again.

That command was Garcia’s.

Which is driving The Kid fuckinginsane.

The only man Kipp doesn’t mind taking instructions from is the one that handed over the reins to our attorney who clearly has a master plan we don’t know much about.

At least not yet.

“Maybe I should send a couple of officers by daily?” Post suggests while the coroner guides his attendants towards the waiting transport vehicle. “Have them conduct a simple safety and wellness check of you and the property? Make sure y’all are secure and not in any immediate danger?” His attention shifts to Garcia. “What do you think, counselor?”

Low grumbles from The Kid have me returning to my doodles and whispering, “Behave.”

“I am behaving,” he quietly huffs in return. “I’m just…tired of Garcia being around all the goddamn time.”

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