Chapter 10 Hunter
Hunter
I don’t slam the phone down hard enough to break the screen, but it’s a close call. No? No!? The “gift” was for me, not them. They have no right to shut me out of this. Are they trying to piss me off, or is it just natural for them?
“Knock, knock.” Spencer stands at my door, eyebrows raised. “Should I come back?”
“No. Take a seat. How’s the new house going?
” After the incident in their apartment, neither he nor Kendrick were willing to spend another night there, and they stayed with Moira, the lone woman who works for me and is worth ten men while they searched for a house.
Moving in a week ago means they have privacy again.
I hope they don’t think I haven’t noticed them slinking in late the last few days.
Spencer grins as he slides into a chair opposite me, spreading his legs and relaxing into it. “Too big for just the two of us. I’m trying to convince Ken we need more rabbits.”
I’m sure that’s going well for him. He could ask Ken for a hundred rabbits, and the man might protest, but in the end, he’ll always give Spencer what he wants.
“How can I help?” There are stacks of papers on my desk, waiting for my attention, and a number of phone calls I need to make, and I’m not interested in any of it.
What I really want to do is chase Xavier and Hunter down and tell them to go fuck themselves with as colourful language as I can manage.
“Are you planning on putting us back to work at all or…?” Spencer trails off, giving me a look that says I’m being an overprotective father and need to stop.
He’s not wrong. “Are you ready to be back out in the field? Don’t lie to me.
” They went through a traumatic experience, along with Greer, who’s still recovering from the damage to his face.
I can’t have them on active duty until they’re absolutely sure they’re ready; if they aren’t, they’re a liability to not only themselves but each other.
“We’re fine. Are you ready to be back out in the field, or do you need to pack our lunches first?”
“Cute.” With a sigh, I rub my forehead. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I have a few things that have just crossed my desk. Once I’ve sifted through them and decided what we’ll keep and what they can shove up their asses, I’ll hand them over.”
“’Preciate it.” Spencer stands and then stops, narrowing his eyes at me. “You alright?”
“I will be.” No use lying, he’ll see right through it. “There are a lot of dead ends regarding the weird gift.” The only paths still open are being hoarded by Xavier and Miles, and I appreciate precisely none of it.
“You can’t have a normal admirer, can you?”
“Apparently not.” I’m not sure “admirer” is the right word, but I haven’t come up with a more suitable one yet.
I need more information about who we’re dealing with and why they sent me a body part in the first place.
It’s not that I don’t have enemies, despite what I told Xavier.
It’s simply that I don’t know of any that wouldn’t come at me directly.
This tactic is unusual, especially since it came without a warning.
“We’re going to fi—”
He’s interrupted by my phone ringing, unknown number on the screen. With a frown, I answer with a curt, “Hello.” I never answer with my name, not even to numbers that I know. There’s no need to announce my identity.
No response. I can faintly hear breathing in the background. Perhaps traffic, though I can’t be sure. There wasn’t that beat of silence before a click, like telemarketers have.
“Hello?” I repeat irritably. Still no answer. For fuck’s sake. “Call this number again at your own peril,” I warn before hanging up.
Spencer raises a brow at me. “The fuck was that?”
“No idea. Someone was there, but they wouldn’t speak.”
Spencer worries his bottom lip and taps his hip absently. “Think it could have been your admirer?”
My heart rate slows as the implication sets in. Shit. It never even occurred to me. “It was an unknown number, but I’ll see if Six can pull anything else from it. Thank you.”
“Normally you would pick that up. What the hell’s going on? If you’re really worried—”
“I’m not,” I assure him. There are pinpricks of worry, but somehow, knowing that Xavier and Miles are working on it helps alleviate that, though I’m loathe to uncover that and discover why. Some things are best left buried. Some people are as well.
He doesn’t look convinced, but he nods. “The wedding invitations are gonna be ready today, so we’ll drop off yours when we pick them up.”
“Did you decide on a date?” As far as I’m aware, it’s going to be a small, private, and intimate affair at their home. Neither of them wanted anything flashy, or anything that would take too long to organise.
“Two weeks from now. That was my limit.”
Unsurprising. “Do you have a gift registry?”
“Fuck no. Just bring some good alcohol.”
With a laugh, I agree, and then he leaves me in peace. Unfortunately, there’s no reprieve for the wicked, since Jericho decides it’s his turn.
“Olivia is safely at school to terrorise the other students and her teachers.”
More true than funny. I don’t even want to think about what she’ll be like through her teenage years. I have a feeling we’re all in for an “interesting” time.
“Thank you.”
“Her teacher was disappointed when I dropped her off,” he says, sliding into Spencer’s vacated seat.
“Was he hoping she was sick and unable to come to school?” I ask dryly.
Wouldn’t be the first teacher to wish she were anyone else's problem. She’s a smart kid, gets her work done, and takes her studies seriously.
That’s where the dutiful student ends. The number of pranks she’s gotten detention for and bullies she’s beaten up—and otherwise humiliated—are the reasons I’ll have grey hairs long before my time.
“I think it was more that you weren’t the one dropping her off.”
The look on his face tells me exactly what he means by that. “Is there anything else?” I make a shooing motion. “I’m busy.”
“It’s hilarious that you think that’ll make me go away. Why don’t you put the poor guy out of his misery?”
“He’s Olivia’s teacher.” Enough said. I rarely have time to date, and when I do, it certainly won’t be with someone I have to see often or who looks after my child.
“And if he wasn’t?”
“Irrelevant, he is.”
“There’s something you’re not telling me.”
“Multiple things, I’m sure.” Including a visit from a man that Jericho would rather shoot than acknowledge exists. “Don’t you have work to do?”
“Dealing with you is work.”
“Charming.” I didn’t invite him in here. “I need to speak to Six. Are you done?”
“Not even close. Let’s talk about this teacher.”
“His name is Matthew.” If he’s going to be pushy about it, he can at least use the man’s name.
“First-name basis. Nice.”
“I can read forms.”
“You already knew he likes you. How?”
He’s like a dog with a bone. One of those really annoying small ones.
“He asked me on a date a few months ago. I politely declined. It hasn’t come up again.
” Nothing changed; he’s as friendly and open as he always was.
I appreciate a man who can take a rejection with dignity and not make something of it.
“Why’d you say no?” He gives me an unimpressed look before I can even get a word out. “If the word ‘Xavier’ comes out of your mouth, I won’t be responsible for my actions.”
“The only mouth it’s coming out of is yours.” Save me from meddling older brothers. “I said no because I wasn’t interested, and he’s Olivia’s teacher.”
“And if he wasn’t?”
“We already went over this.” Less than a minute ago, in fact. He’s not so old he can get away with that kind of memory lapse. “Are you done now?”
“Not even close. He’s pretty handsome.”
“Should I tell your partners you’ve been looking at other men?” I ask, hoping that will distract him enough to stop this line of inquiry.
“Scoping them out for you isn’t the same thing,” he replies, not taking the bait.
“You think I need my brother to scope out dates for me?”
“Based on your track record? Yeah. When was the last time you even went out on a date?”
“None of your business.” Too long. My dry spell has been just as long.
Xavier hasn’t visited me for almost six months, and I haven’t slept with anyone but him in too long.
In the beginning, I’d tried to bury the pain under someone else.
It never worked, of course. It’s been a while since I’ve had that much enthusiasm for someone that wasn’t Xavier.
A psychologist would have a field day with all of that.
“That just answers my question with prejudice.”
“I’m about to do something else with prejudice,” I inform him with fake pleasantness. If he doesn’t leave soon, he’s getting bodily thrown out. As well-meaning as all of this is, I have more important issues to be dealing with.
“Kinky.”
I can already feel the headache forming in the back of my head. “Jericho, I appreciate that—”
“Don’t give me the brush-off. I’m worried about you. That’s even before we get into the flower-and-finger scenario.”
“You make it sound even weirder when you say it like that.” And it’s weird enough. We need a different name for it. Or to just never speak of it.
“Did you find out anything more?”
“No.” A white lie. I didn’t learn anything else that he can do anything with. The last thing I need is for Jericho and Xavier to be in each other’s crosshairs. I have enough to worry about right now.
Jericho stands and crosses his arms. “Think about it.”
“About a severed finger?” Does he think I haven’t been thinking about it? I’ve spent the last week doing nothing but. And perhaps a few stray thoughts about Xavier and his shadow. Irrelevant and not something Jericho needs to know. Some things are safer kept behind closed doors.
“About your teacher.”
“Olivia’s teacher.”
“Semantics.”
It’s more than that, and I’m incredibly done with this conversation. “Tell Six to come and see me,” is all I say, effectively dismissing him.
I wouldn’t have been surprised if he didn’t do as I asked, just to spite me, but Six comes waltzing in a few minutes later. My door is a rotating one today.
“Do you know how many people get their finger cut off every week?”
“Among other things?” I imagine as an ER doctor in a past lifetime, he’s seen more than his fair share of severed everything.
Six grimaces. “Trust me, some things are better left unknown.”
I don’t doubt it. Tossing my phone over to him, he automatically catches it. “I had a strange call from an unknown number. Can you trace it for me?”
“I can try. You think it might be your admirer?”
“Spence thinks it might be.”
Six shrugs. “Alright, I’ll take a look.” Except that he doesn’t move to leave, only continues to stare at me in a disconcerting way. Everyone’s been looking at me like that since we found the finger in the flowers.
“Yes, Six?”
“It was the ring finger,” he says. “Left hand, ring finger.”
“And?”
“And nothing yet, but that feels significant, don’t you think?”
It’s certainly something I’ve thought about and can’t discount. I’m not one to make snap judgements or decisions without more facts, however, and right now everything we have is surface level. “You think they’re proposing to me?” I ask dryly.
“Far be it from me to critique a person’s wooing technique, but they could have just left a note.”
“They certainly got my attention.” Though perhaps not the way they wanted it.
A walk down the aisle won’t be happening when I find them.
“Did you have any luck with the florist?” Xavier has been sending flowers to me for years, but I’ve never had reason to go anywhere near where they come from.
If he wants to waste his money and contribute to local businesses, I won’t dissuade him.
“A tiny place owned by an older couple who were lovely and made me a hot chocolate.” He leans back and laces his hands behind his head.
“And tight-lipped as all hell. They clearly know who Xavier is—did you know he personally goes in to pay for the flowers a month in advance?” I didn’t, and I’d prefer not to know that—“but they refused to say anything about him, even when I was at my most charming.”
“Then how do you know how he pays, or that he’s even a customer?” Unless Six has picked up mind reading in the last week, which I wouldn’t dismiss outright. He certainly reads Greer’s mind.
“They keep very thorough computer records, which I was not expecting. I was looking for some kind of pseudonym at first ’cause I figured he wouldn’t use his real name, and I almost missed it.
He’s sunk enough money into that place to own it a dozen times over. They all but owe him their livelihood.”
I bite back the question I want to ask. Does he send flowers to anyone else? It’s not my business or my concern. What Xavier chooses to do has nothing to do with me.
“Send me all the information you compiled.” Asking and finding out for myself are two entirely different things, and no one else needs to know just how pathetic I am.
“Sure thing. But we won’t get anything else from them. Xavier’s an asshole, but they apparently don’t know that.”
If they’re that loyal to him, I can’t see them allowing anyone to tamper with the flowers when they’re within reach. Which leaves the courier, who Miles said was missing. Was the finger his?
“You know something,” Six says, watching me carefully.
“He has a courier that’s always delivered the flowers, and he’s missing.”
“Now I’m curious how you know that.” He narrows his eyes, connecting the dots too quickly. My own fault for creating a team of the best. “You’ve been talking to him. Hunt, that’s not a good idea.”
I’m well aware of that already. I wonder what he’d say if he knew that for the past too-many years, I’ve frequently had Xavier in my bed.
I’ve never been able to say no to him once he touches me.
He knows it, and he uses it to take advantage, prolonging both our pain.
I hate him for it just as much as I’m still completely in love with him.
“I’ll take that under advisement.”
“No, you won’t. He’s bad news, and frequent contact with him won’t end well. I know you know that.”
Of course, I do. I always have. That’s never stopped me before. “I want my phone back in ten minutes. And send me that information within the hour.”
He gets in one more disapproving look that I feel down to my soul before leaving.
Instead of doing something productive, I spend five minutes staring at a blank monitor, everything spinning too fast in my mind to slow it down and get work done.
Xavier, what am I going to do about you?
All I know is that I refuse to allow him to control this. Pulling my landline phone closer to me, I pick it up and dial in a familiar number.
The first step is an ambush.