16. Hunter
CHAPTER 16
hunter
" S ir, I have Sebastian Badd for you on line one." Harriet's voice came through my intercom.
Fuck. "Okay, got it. Thanks, Harriet." I closed the lid of my laptop, removed my blue blockers, rubbed the bridge of my nose with a finger, and let out a sigh. "Let's do this, I guess," I muttered to myself.
I picked up the phone. "Sebastian, good afternoon. How are you?"
His deep, gravelly voice was distant, meaning I was on speaker. "Okay, Hunter, and you?"
"Not too bad, I guess. What's on your mind?"
His voice came back close and clear as he put the phone to his ear. "Delia."
I swallowed a sigh, a curse, and a growl all at once. "Ahhh, I see. Okay. Things in Anchorage seem to be progressing well. We're on track to open next month, I hear, and we're actually under budget."
"This is a personal call, Hunter."
"Oh." I cleared my throat. "Is she…did something happen?"
"You tell me, son."
I bristled at the son . "Sebastian, I'm not sure how I feel discussing Delia on a personal level."
"Too goddamned bad." This was growled—he was pissed.
"Sebastian, I—"
"I've made a habit of staying out of my daughter's romantic life, and that's been my policy since she was seventeen. She knows her mind, and when she sets her mind to something, there's no changing it. My approval or disapproval of her boyfriends made no difference to her. As long as she was safe and her boyfriends treated her well, I let her be. Only once have I stepped in, and that was…well, that wasn't her fault. The jackass was a grade-A sociopath, diagnosed and everything. I had to send him packing the hard way, and even then, she wasn't happy at my interference, lemme tell you."
"I can see that. Did he threaten her?"
"Oh yeah. See, my nephew is a computer whiz, and he didn't like this jackass either, so he did some not entirely legal investigation into his past and his record, and discovered he had a violent history."
"So you stepped in."
“Yes, I did. I told him if he didn't leave Ketchikan on his own, he'd be leaving it in pieces."
"Effective," I said.
“Especially since I delivered that threat with all seven of my brothers, my three cousins, and my uncle."
"He pissed himself, didn't he?"
Sebastian laughed. "Yes, he did." The laughter faded swiftly. "Son, listen—"
"Don't call me son, Sebastian. I have a father, and he's not you. I mean no disrespect, but I do not like that term."
"Fair enough.” A pause. "I don't know what went down between you and my daughter. And unless you physically hurt her, it ain't any of my business."
"I can state without equivocation that I did not hurt her, physically or otherwise. And she will verify this, regardless of how she may feel about me." I let out a breath, unable to hold the sigh of pain in any longer. "Sebastian, can I be brutally honest with you?"
"Only way to be, if you ask me."
" She hurt me . That's what happened. We…I thought we had something. I was ready to…I don't know. Explore it, I guess. But the second shit got real, she bolted. Told me in no uncertain terms that she couldn't do this with me and that I should go back to New York." My throat closed up, hot and tight. "So, I did. And it killed me to do so, Sebastian. I cared about her—deeply. I still do. But I listen. She told me to leave and I left. We both agreed there would be no games. I'm not going to chase her after she made it clear that she didn't want to be with me."
A long silence greeted this. Eventually, he let out a breath. "Well...fuck. That changes things, I guess."
"Not sure it does."
"It absolutely does, Hunter. She doesn't play games like that. But…shit, how do I put this? I'll just put it bluntly—she's a mess, man. She's a fucking disaster, and she has been ever since we had that meeting."
"So have I, to be honest."
"My intention in calling you was to get you to talk to her, see if you could sort things out. Because honestly, she's miserable, and I can't stand it anymore. Every time I talk to her, she's just…down. Flat. Sad. It's not her. I thought she'd snap out of it, but she's honestly never been this upset after a breakup before,” he growled, annoyed and frustrated. “I know it’s not my business, especially if she broke up with you. But…if you still have feelings for her, man, you gotta do something."
I was silent for a long time. "Sebastian, I…I don't know. I just don't know. She was very clear. She flat-out ran out of my house. The details are personal and private, but…let's just say she left after we shared a…um…very vulnerable moment together. It meant something to me, Sebastian. And to her. But she ran. She ran, and I don't think she wanted me to chase her."
Silence. "You close with your mother?"
I blinked, confused at the abrupt change in topic. "Um. Not especially close, no, but I see her a few times a year. They spend a lot of time in Europe now that Dad is retired. Why?"
"No sisters?"
"Nope."
"Ever been in love, son? I mean, Sebastian, sorry."
"I'd have said yes, before Delia, but now I’m not sure I knew what love was. Why? What is this line of questioning about?"
"Because you clearly don't know dick about how women operate."
I sank back in my Herman Miller office chair, pivoted to face the wall of windows overlooking Fifth Avenue, and tried to get my jaw to close. "I…"
"You may be hot shit with the types of girls you've always got hanging on your arm, but I'm guessin' you don't pay a lot of attention to their emotions."
"You don't know anything about my relationships," I snapped, pissed off, embarrassed, and feeling targeted.
"Maybe not, but I can guess."
"Guess away, then, Sebastian." It was not said kindly, I must admit.
"Hey, now, don't get your panties in a twist, kid. I ain't comin' for you, okay? But I don't fuck around. I don't play games. I'm concerned as fuck about my daughter, and I’ve got a feeling you're the only one who can do anything about it. So I'm gonna get under your skin and point a few things out to you since it don't seem like anyone else is willing to." He said something to someone else, muffled and distant, and then I heard a door close. "These New York chicks you date. You usually end things, or do they?"
"Things tend to run their course on their own, I find."
"Meanin' you two have your fun and then it's done, right?"
"More or less, I suppose."
"Don't mean this as a criticism, because before I met my wife, I was the same way, but….I take it you don’t do relationships."
I cleared my throat. "Not…not so much, no. That's what was so different about Delia. I wanted it—I wanted something real with her. And the second it seemed like she might be willing to admit she did too, she bolted. Ghosted me."
"I'm getting to that, hold on. What I'm getting at is you don't have a lot of experience with women and strong emotions, amiright?"
I growled a begrudging sigh. "Yeah, I guess so. Strong emotions make me uncomfortable."
He chuckled. "I feel you, man, believe me. But the strong emotions? That's where the real shit happens. You have any guesses as to why Delia ran?"
"I mean, she said she thought she could do this with me, but she couldn't. It was too much, she said."
"Dig deeper. Why? Why would it be too much?"
I hummed thoughtfully. "Too many big emotions, I guess?"
"Bzzzt. Nope. Try again. Delia is all big emotions, Hunter. She doesn't do anything by half measures.”
"Um. Fuck, man, I don't know. Just tell me."
"Nah, you gotta work this one out. Think. Think about yourself. Were you all in right away? Ready to tell her how you felt right off the bat?"
"Fuck no. I never told her how I truly feel—I would've, had she stuck around."
"Why didn't you, though? What stopped you?" He hesitated. "No bullshit, now."
I swallowed hard because I knew the answer immediately—it was just difficult to get the words past my clenched teeth. "Fear."
"Of?"
"Rejection. Heartbreak. Pain."
"Right. Heartbreak sucks. And Delia…she's seen all of us—me and her mom, and her whole crew of aunts and uncles—love each other hard. Big love. Lasting. Real. If I had to guess, I would guess that she’s afraid of failing. She’s my oldest and has a massive drive to succeed. She’s seen dozens of role models stay married and in love for decades. Maybe it’s deeper; I don’t know. She keeps her shit close. I mean, we talk about things, but she keeps her relationships private. From me, at least. I’m her dad, so I guess it's hard for her to talk about that stuff with me—I don't know." He sighed deeply. "Fuck, man. All I know for sure is she's scared out of her mind but too proud and stubborn to do anything about it except hide behind sixteen-hour workdays in fucking Anchorage. Even Emerson is worried because she won't discuss what happened at all, even with her."
“Emerson?” I asked.
“Her best friend since childhood–whom we adopted over Christmas.” He paused. “She tells Emerson everything , but this is off-limits even for Emerson.”
"Fuck."
"Exactly. So…what are you going to do about it?"
I rubbed my face with one hand, groaning roughly. "I'll have to figure that out, it would seem. In my experience, when a woman says she doesn't want to do something anymore, tells me to leave, and then cuts off all contact, it's usually a pretty definitive end to things."
"I know, and I appreciate where you're coming from, Hunter, I really do. But I'm telling you, as her father and as her boss, she's not okay. She’s miserable as fuck, and too stuck in her own head to know how to fix it. I'm not promising you anything. I don't know how she'd react if you…I don’t know…showed up or something. I don't know. I just think it's worth a shot. Talk to her. In person, face to face. If nothing else, she might just need closure."
I growled wordlessly. "Fuck." I paused, but the flood of words in my throat came out anyway. "Watching Delia run away from me right as I was starting to accept how I felt about her…it was the most painful thing I’ve ever experienced, Sebastian. It fucking gutted me. I…I haven’t slept the night through since I left Alaska. I work all day, but my productivity is in the shitter. I’m rude to my employees. I’ve had to apologize to my secretary and assistant several times each in the last few months, and I never apologize. I have no appetite. Even my workouts feel like a chore, and usually, they're the one thing that keeps me sane. I fucking miss her, Sebastian."
"Exactly, so—"
"I don't know if I can handle being rejected a second time. I was ready to give her my heart, and she fucking ran away from me. I get it—I was scared too, but I was willing to try. She fucking rejects me, sets my fucking world on fire, and I'm the one who has to hunt her ass down and offer up my broken fucking heart on a silver platter for her to shit all over again? I don't know, man. The ROI on that is feeble."
"Ever have anyone you were close to die on you?" Sebastian asked.
"Uh, no. Why?"
"My dad died when I was in my late twenties. Sudden. And here's something I learned through that that I don't talk about all that often. People say what you said all the time—I don't know if I can handle that again. Shit like that. But the fact is, you don't have a goddamn choice. Shit is gonna happen in this life. You're gonna get hurt. It's gonna suck. And yes, some people do choose to check out early because they don't see a way through. But there always is. Not always a good way, or an easy way. Sometimes it just means suffering through the suck."
"Wow, this is some seriously uplifting advice you’re doling out, Sebastian."
"Shut the fuck up and listen to me, you over-privileged twat."
I rocked back in my chair. "Jesus. The last person who spoke to me that way was the CEO of a company I was buying when I was…twenty-two, twenty-three? I ruined his life."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm so scared. You gonna listen or what?" His growl was rough, hard, and low. This man did not give a shit who I was or the power I wielded.
"Fine. What's your point?"
"My point is, going through life avoiding things that bear risk of pain is weak, lazy, and shitty. Once upon a time, I'd have called you a pussy, but as my wife and daughter and a multitude of sisters-in-law like to point out regularly, pussies are strong, powerful, and amazing. So I'm not gonna call you a pussy. Yeah, she might reject you. Again. I can't do shit about that—she's her own woman. I just know that you'll resent yourself and her forever if you don't sack up and face the situation like a real fucking man." He grunted, a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “Look, kid, just answer me this: You love her?"
"Yeah. I mean, I can't get her out of my head, and all I want is for her to be happy, and I wish to fuck I could be the one to make her happy. If that's love, then yeah, I love her."
"Are you willing to risk getting hurt again for the chance that you could make both of you happy?" he said. "Because that's what you gotta decide. Are you more afraid of getting hurt again or of missing out on your chance at real love because you were too scared to take another swing?"
"You make a compelling case, Sebastian," I said. "I guess I have some thinking to do."
"Guess you do. Just don't think too long. At a certain point, you just gotta accept that there is no certainty, and you just gotta jump without knowing where you're gonna land." He cleared his throat gruffly. "Alright, Hunter. I said my piece. The rest is up to you."
"Sebastian, I…" I started, hesitated, and then barreled onward. "Thank you. For calling, I mean. For being willing to hit me with the truth. People willing to speak the blunt truth to me are few and far between."
"Never been one to pull my punches, no matter who and no matter what," he said.
"Well, thank you. I do appreciate it." I swallowed hard. "I also wanted to say…um…" I'm not used to being tongue-tied, not knowing what to say, so this struggle was a tough one for me. "Delia is a remarkable and amazing woman. You and Dru raised a hell of a human.”
A brief silence. "Thank you, Hunter. I appreciate that."
"Hopefully, Sebastian, this will be the first of many conversations."
"In that case, you'd better call me Bast."
"Bast?" I repeated.
"Yep. B-A-S-T. It's what anyone who knows me calls me. My youngest brother, Xavier, couldn't pronounce my name when he was little, so he called me Bast, and it stuck."
"Funny how that works," I said.
"Quick question, to appease my curiosity. Does anyone actually call you Hawk, or did you make that up?"
"My buddy Jonathan Givens calls me Hawk. We've been friends for…shit…fifteen years? Thereabouts. We met in high school. So, I didn't make it up, but he's the only one who does call me that."
"What's everyone else in your life call you?"
"Well, my folks call me Hunter, and everyone else calls me sir because they work for me."
"So let me get this straight. You have exactly one friend, parents you aren't close to, and employees who call you sir…"
“Yeaaaahhhh…?” I said, drawing out the word and making it a question.
"Sounds like a hell of a lonely life. You got a big fancy penthouse that you rattle around in like a marble in a maze?"
I snorted. "Now you’re just shitting on me for fun, Bast."
"Nah, I just think you need some people in your life who don't give a shit who you are. Friends. Family. A support system. Someone who worries about you when you're obviously fucked up and miserable."
"Givey calls me pretty much every day to check in on me," I said.
"Well that's good. Alright, well, Hawk, I'ma let you go. But assuming you pull this shit off, bring your boy Givey up to Ketchikan with you, yeah? Trust me when I tell you no one parties like the Badd Clan."
"Assuming I pull this shit off, I will do that."
"Good. Go get the girl, Hunter Hawkins. Lay your heart on the line. I know my daughter, and I'd wager a full percentage of one year's profits that you won't regret it."
I laughed. "Bast, I wouldn't take you up on that out of financial principle, but I will say that I hope to fuck you're right. Because I've tried living without Delia these last few months, and it sucks ass."
It was his turn to laugh. "That's how you know it's right. If your emotions leave you no choice, then you'll do whatever it takes to work it out."
"Truth. Alright, well, I have a pile of work to do if I'm gonna be able to do anything, so goodbye for now."
He echoed my goodbye, and we ended the call. I hit the intercom and summoned Harriet and Elara into my office.
When they were both seated in front of me, I let out a breath, tapping my pen on the desk. "So, I suppose it's not exactly a state secret that I've not exactly been myself lately."
Harriet snorted. "With all due respect, sir, you've been an insufferable monster."
I arched an eyebrow. "Elara? Feel free to be blunt."
She grimaced. "Um…well, sir, you…err…as you said, you've not been your, um, usual cheerful self."
Harriet guffawed. "If Hunter Hawkins has been cheerful a single day in his life, I'm Mother Theresa."
I sighed. "Tell me how you really feel, Harriet."
She arched an eyebrow back at me. "Do be cautious in what you request of me, sir. You just might get it."
"That was sarcasm, Harriet. But if you have further truth to bestow upon me, you happen to find me in a receptive mood." I leaned back in my chair and steepled my fingers in front of myself, an obnoxious, pretentious, cliché habit I learned from my father that I've never been able to entirely lose.
She smoothed a hand over her skirt, let out a breath, and nodded. "Very well, sir. I do not know the details of what happened in Alaska, and I do not need them. But in my experience, when a man goes into a funk like you've been in since your return, it can only mean one thing: love gone awry."
"You would not be incorrect," I said.
She nodded, eying me while thinking. "Hunter, I care about you. I've worked for you since the beginning of your career. You've been singularly driven to prove something. I'm not sure what. That you're not your father? That you can succeed without his help? I'm not sure, and it doesn't matter. But you've never had much of a social life, as far as I can tell. I'm an old woman, and this is my second career. My husband and I are used to long periods apart, so I don’t have a life, and nor do I want or need one. But you—you’re a young man, just thirty. You have your whole life ahead of you, and you’ve already succeeded to a degree that very few other human beings, past, present, or future, ever will."
I rubbed my face with both hands—apparently, today was "lecture Hunter" day. "Again, you aren't wrong. What's the but?"
"But you're wasting your life. You're accumulating wealth, but you don't use it. You don't spend it. You donate to charities for tax purposes, and you attend the requisite social functions. But…what fulfills you, Hunter? What is important to you? Who do you share your life with?"
"You just said you and your husband spend a lot of time apart."
She nodded. “We do. But my career in the military meant I went where I was ordered. We talk on the phone, video call, and if I’m away for more than a few days, we send each other letters."
“Letters?" I echoed. "Like, physical letters? In an envelope with postage?"
She snickered. "Yes, Hunter, physical letters in envelopes with postage. It's a dying art form. One day, I’m going to put the letters we've sent each other over the years into a single, chronological volume and publish it." She shook her head and waved her hands. "My point is, that's how our relationship works. I love him. I'm committed to him. I'm comforted by him. He is my purpose, my reason, my logic, and my everything. You need that for yourself, Hunter. You're drowning. If you stay the course you're on now, you're going to end up a sad, fat, lonely old man with a vault of money and a wasted life."
I blinked. "Well…damn. Okay." I turned to Elara. "And you?"
“Oh, I couldn't, sir." She picked nervously at a wrinkle on her blouse.
"Well, now I insist," I said, "if only out of curiosity."
"You're already lonely,” Elara said, her tone strengthening as she warmed up to her topic. “Obviously, you're not sad or fat or old, but you are lonely. I, um…I think you've substituted sex for companionship and intimacy, and…well, truthfully, sir, it shows."
I threw up my hands, left my chair, and faced my wall of glass. "Is everyone wiser than me?"
"Only a wise person would ask that," Harriet said. "But…yes."
I laughed. "Full of the zingers today, Harriet."
“Yes sir. I had an extra cup of coffee this morning."
I looked at Elara again. "How does it show?"
"One of the first things you said to me was that once upon a time, you’d have already had sex with me. And you said that without knowing a single thing about me, and you said it as if it was a virtue that you hadn’t. That says a lot, to me, at least.” She shrugged. “You’re always working. You have one friend. Until Alaska, you had a constant parade of girlfriends, according to tabloids and the media, at least, none of whom were ever around for more than a few weeks. Plus, you’re insulated from real life by your status as a famous billionaire. That on its own is a lonely place to be. At least, it seems that way to me, based purely on my observations."
I stared out the window again, thinking. After a few minutes, I let my ruminations unspool. "I'm considering a drastic change, as a matter of fact. I was thinking about it when I was in Alaska, before what happened…happened. Which, since I trust you both, is that I fell in love with a woman. Except she got scared and shut me out. And now I'm thinking I need to…talk to her. See her. And if things with her were to work out, I may very well transition the day-to-day operations of…well, everything…out of my direct control. Free up my time. What that would look like, I don't know. That's why you're both here. Harriet, you know more about the operation of this company than I do, I sometimes think. What do you recommend?"
She let out a breath but didn't answer for a while. "The bulk of the corporation’s day-to-day management can be delegated. I would appoint someone to be the person in charge—create a new role, perhaps. A VP, or name a new CEO. You would still need to check in and be the deciding vote, sign things, et cetera, but except for a rare case, everything can be delegated or done remotely. I think we could have you transitioned away from your daily role within a few weeks, perhaps a month at most."
I nodded. "Who would you recommend?"
She thought hard for a moment or two. "Robert Halloway, senior VP of Marketing, is a solid choice. Eric Martinez from accounting is consistently reliable and has been with us nearly as long as I have. Or you could split the roles. Robert knows brand management and development, and Eric knows the numbers."
I nodded again. "Astute selections. You're missing one obvious person, however."
She frowned. “Who?"
“You."
She spluttered and began coughing. When she'd caught her breath, she shook her head. "Sir, you cannot be serious."
"I am. As a heart attack."
She looked at Elara, who just stared back blankly, and then at me. "Hunter—Mr. Hawkins. Sir. I'm your secretary. I can't…I can't be CEO."
"Sure you can—if I say so. It's my company. I can do what I want. Unless you're ready to retire."
She glared at me. "That's a dirty word to fling at me, Hunter. I'm old, but not that old."
"Then give me one good reason why you can't do the job," I said.
She blinked. "I…" a breath, a shake of her head. "Well, I…I suppose I could .”
"Of course you could. You're Harriet the Hatchet. Mortals tremble in fear when you pass by."
A disgusted sigh. "I hate that nickname."
"I mean it with love, Harriet," I said. "Here's my proposal. You're CEO. Robert and Eric are your direct underlings—they're both smart, savvy, and trustworthy. As you said, Robert can help with image and such, and Eric knows the numbers. They report to you. Elara becomes your secretary. You consult me as necessary."
She rose and crossed to the windows and stared out for a long time. Eventually, she turned and slumped backward against the window. "Hunter, sir…are you sure this is what you want to do? I don't just mean me, I mean…everything. You've worked your whole adult life building this company. Are you sure you're ready to hand it over to someone else?"
I stood as well and went over to her. Took her hands in mine. "Enough with the ‘sir’ bullshit, Harriet. Regardless of what is decided about my role or yours, I…you're my friend. I have relied on you personally and professionally for nearly fifteen years. I should be calling you ma'am."
She squared her shoulders, cleared her throat, and blinked hard. "Hunter, it has been my honor to serve as your advisor."
"You mispronounced ‘mentor,’ Harriet." I squeezed her hands. "You are, as of this moment, unofficially the new CEO of the Hawkins Group Corporation. I'll convene a board meeting ASAP and make it official."
"And what will you do?" she asked.
I shrugged and shook my head, huffing a laugh. "Hell if I know, long-term. No, not restaurants. I need a bigger challenge than that, I think. Short-term, I'm gonna go back to Alaska and see about a girl."
Elara cleared her throat. "Mr. Hawkins, sir, may I provide a suggestion?"
I smiled at her. "Certainly, Elara. But only if you do so confidently. You have immense value to provide. Believe in it. Believe in yourself and be bold. People will listen when you do. Especially since it seems rather likely Harriet is about to make you her personal secretary."
"To start with, yes," Harriet said, smiling. “You have a bright future here."
Elara blinked hard and let out a breath. “Sir, assuming you’re able to, um, sort things out with Miss Badd, you might consider asking her if she can get you a meeting with her uncle, Xavier Badd."
I frowned, confused. "Why would I do that?"
She frowned back, equally confused. "Because he is a business partner of Valentine and Corinna Roth of Valkyrie Extraglobal Solutions. Together, Xavier Badd and the Roths have not just transformed the aerospace industry but have singlehandedly created the concept of extraorbital construction in a very real, practical sense. If you want to challenge yourself, sir, put your money and ideas there."
I stared at her. "Xavier Badd is a business partner of Valkyrie?"
"Yes sir. Valkyrie provides the rockets, infrastructure, and personnel, and Xavier provides the software, hardware, robotics, and nanotechnology. They are equal partners, financially.”
"No shit?" I said.
"I've always loved space, Mr. Hawkins. I'm a bit of an astronomy and sci-fi nerd in my free time. They've revolutionized spaceflight."
I sighed thoughtfully, turning to gaze out the window. "Interesting idea, Elara. Very interesting."
Harriet touched my arm. "Hunter, if you're going to consider that move, then you'll need capital to work with."
"What are you suggesting?"
"Sell off some of the tertiary companies and subsidiaries. Streamline."
"I hate that term—streamlining. It just means laying off hardworking people." I nodded, however. "But you are correct. Hawkins Group has become rather unwieldy over the years. Lots of income streams, which worked when I was running the ship—the plethora of subsidiaries are all things I've taken interest in. But if—when, rather—I pivot to a new project, it makes sense to sell them off so the core structure is…well…more streamlined and easier to manage."
"Precisely, sir. And, as I said, you'll need the capital to invest with because the sector you're considering requires a massive amount of buy-in capital." Harriet indicated Elara. "And since she seems to have more than a passing interest in and knowledge of that field, she should go with you. Nothing against her at all, but if I'm going to be CEO, I'll want to hand-pick my inner circle, and her skills will be best used elsewhere, in a field where her interests and passions will be an asset."
Elara's eyes lit up. "Oh, sir, that would be—gosh, that would be a literal dream come true. I was one of the first to own OpenBot—my father got me a prototype for my birthday when I was a little girl, and I watch every Valkyrie launch. My computer at home has the live stream of their orbital construction project running twenty-four-seven."
I frowned at her. "So…why are you wasting your time interning here? Why aren't you at NASA or something?"
She sighed. "Because my father holds the purse strings. He considered space to be the silly hobby of a little girl, not a viable career choice for his only child."
I shook my head. "I hate that shit. So, I take it that, assuming I am able to shoehorn myself into their company, you'd welcome the opportunity to be involved?"
"I would sell my ovaries for the chance, sir," she said.
"Well, thankfully for your future progeny, that won’t be necessary. For now, you’ll stay here and keep learning from Harriet. I’ll need time to figure all this out. But you have my word, Elara—if and when I go into business with Xavier and the Roths, you’ll be my right-hand woman. I’ll need someone with the knowledge I lack to help guide my decisions, if nothing else."
She blinked away tears. "Sir, I…"
I pulled her into a rough, platonic hug. "If you cry, you'll see the old Hunter come out," I teased.
She resisted my hug for a moment and then softened, awkwardly patting my back. "Yes sir, sorry sir. No crying here, sir."
I laughed as I let her go. "Very good, Miss Joseph. Now, then. I'll need the board convened ASAP and a flight to Anchorage."