Page 5 of Hunter

“Then don’t read my mind.”

My eyebrows pulled together. “I have to be psychic to be able to read you mind.”

“No, you don’t.”

“What—”

She stopped me with the shake of her head, raising a palm as she sighed in exasperation.

Meanwhile, I was more than sure this woman was bat-shit crazy. In fact, I was certain of it. What my brother ever saw in her would remain a mystery. Nonetheless, it wasn’t the reason I was here.

“You’re coming home,” I told her.

The second the words left my lips, I saw a rush of fear encompass her. She stiffened, her eyes growing wide as she looked down into her hand without seeing it.

It felt like a whole hour had passed before she turned to look at me, despair written in those brown eyes.

“I can’t,” she whispered at last.

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Is there a difference?” she huffed, eyes looking straight into mine. “I’m not going back to that town either way.”

“Adair is my nephew. I won’t have the last piece of my brother living on the other side of the country. Besides, your mother is there. Your family, friends …” I could go on and on about all the people who cared for Mallory Ward. The girl wasn’t noticeably popular, but she was loved by everyone who knew her.

Her eyes flashed with pain and sadness before she turned away, leaning down to scoop up her little boy into her arms. His short arms swung around her neck and clung to her, his face buried in her hair.

“I can’t,” she whispered, walking past me.

“Why not?” I turned to follow her, one of my strides matching two of hers. “You owe someone money? Someone threatening you?”

“No!” she hissed, turning on me with that defensive flare. “I’m happy here.”

“Bullshit!”

“It’s not!”

“You’re telling me you love living in this run-down house that’s one knock away from falling to pieces in this kind of neighborhood?”

“There’s nothing wrong with this neighborhood,” she replied, not disagreeing about the house.

“This is agangneighborhood. The house two streets down had the shit gunned out of it!” I already knew all the wrongs with her living conditions, but the more I listed them out loud, the more I felt the anger building in my chest. “Adair doesn’t even go to a school! He should already be in kindergarten by now!”

“He’s not old enough for kindergarten. He’s in daycare,” she retorted, clutching the shaking Adair closer. “He goes to Sunny Skies.”

“You mean that piece of shit painted with rainbows and dick graffiti I rode past on the way in?”

She didn’t argue.

“That’s it!” I yelled, throwing my arms in the air. “Grab your shit. You’re coming home with me.”

“What?” she screeched. “I’m not going anywhere with you!”

“Unfortunately, you don’t have a choice.” I reached forward and grabbed the free arm she wasn’t using to hold Adair, tugging her forward.

“I do have a choice,” she growled, struggling against his hold. “And I’m not going with you.”

“Then I’ll call child services,” I snapped, whirling on her. I dropped my voice. “Then they’ll come; they’ll see this house, that piece of crap school, that house torn apart by bullets; and they’ll take Adair from you. Do you want that?”

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