22. Hunter
Chapter twenty-two
Hunter
I’m still waiting for Connor to get back to me about Dylan and I’m starting to feel restless. So while Ellie is at Cleo’s, I decide to set up some surveillance on Dylan’s property. Of course, I can’t set up a camera inside Dylan’s office or depot, but there is something else I can do.
I head down toward Dylan’s truck depot, just on the outskirts of Starlight Valley on the Tennessee side. Across the street is a self-storage facility. And there just so happens to be an available unit facing Dylan’s depot.
Naturally, I rent it.
As I set up the camera Connor suggested, I check over my shoulder every few seconds. The downside of this unit being visible from Dylan’s property is that it’s visible from Dylan’s property. Which means I’m exposed as well.
Despite the cold weather, I’m sweating through my long-sleeve shirt as I mount the camera on the outside corner of the storage unit. When a truck pulls into Dylan’s, I duck deeper into the unit, hiding in the shadows until the driver steps into the main office.
By the time the camera is set up and the signal is streaming to my phone, I’ve sweat right through my shirt. You’d think with my background, this would be no big deal—but there’s something about having the woman you love hanging in the balance that makes this all so much more terrifying.
Back at home, Ellie’s in her workspace making clothes. She’s got her headphones on and is singing along off pitch in the most adorable way.
After the stress of setting up surveillance on Dylan this morning, seeing Ellie so content makes me feel relieved. When she first moved in here, she was so … jumpy. Every time someone knocked at the door or I walked into a room, she was like a cat with her hackles raised.
But now, watching her shimmy along to her song as she picks out fabric, it makes me feel like I’m floating. And I know, deep down, that if Ellie’s happy, I will be too.
After I shower and change, I make lunch and post up with Ellie in her workspace to look at job listings.
There’s the standard fare of ex-military: security gigs and federal jobs.
But the idea of being a federal paper pusher or guarding a Walmart warehouse at 2 a.m. just doesn’t make me excited to get out of bed every day.
I glance over at Ellie, whose bottom lip is tucked between her teeth as she carefully threads her sewing machine. This isn’t just about me anymore. In a couple months, when I’m no longer a Marine, Ellie won’t have insurance either. And that’s top priority.
So even though being a paper pusher or glorified mall cop sounds like a nightmare, I click “apply.” Because I’ll do anything for Ellie and the baby.
Even work for Walmart.