Hunter
There are some battles I don’t bother fighting, and who gets to drive is one of them.
Besides, having Miles drive means that I can look at him.
He sits with perfect posture and drives the same way he does everything else: with intense focus and concentration.
Black leather gloved hands wrap around the steering wheel at ten and two, exactly like we’re taught when learning.
For someone who works for a man like Xavier, he’s very exact.
“What?” he asks without looking at me.
“What?” I repeat.
“You’re looking at me.”
My lips quirk. “How do you know?”
“I can feel it.” He slows at a red light and turns just enough to give me a sideways glance. “Xavier won’t hurt him.”
“I’m aware.” It’s not like they’ll be together alone for long, regardless.
He arches an eyebrow and then goes back to concentrating on the road. “Are you?”
I don’t answer straightaway, instead choosing to stare out the window at the passing scenery.
It doesn’t surprise me that Miles knows exactly where he’s going, even without directions.
The kind of stalker behaviour they don’t think twice about, never asking themselves whether what they’re doing is morally right or not.
“Xavier doesn’t hurt people that don’t deserve it,” is all I can say in response. It’s only half correct. He hurt me, once upon a time, and I didn’t deserve it. All I did was love him.
Miles’ hands rotate on the wheel. “He was just as innocent as you, back then.”
Innocent isn’t the word I’d use, but I understand what he means.
Does he think I don’t realise the position that Xavier was put in?
That doesn’t mean he didn’t have a choice.
And when it came down to it, it wasn’t me that he chose.
And why would he? I was a means to an end.
Maybe his feelings ended up real, but it never mattered. He made his choice.
My phone buzzing saves me from having to continue the conversation. A message from Jericho. He didn’t come with me.
What? I immediately call him, and he picks up on the second ring.
“What do you mean, he didn’t come with you?”
“He said no,” Jericho says. “Wanted to stay with your asshole of a husband.”
Why would he do that? Jericho was going to take him somewhere safe while we sort out this mess. “Did he say why?”
“He seems to trust Xavier, despite having no reason to. That sounds awfully familiar.”
Too familiar. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
That voice. “Jericho.”
“A slight altercation. Don’t worry, he’s still breathing.”
“Small mercies,” I say dryly. “Where are you going now?”
“Back to HQ. We’re running checks on this Lester guy. If he’s in Sydney, we’ll find him.”
Miles has his eyes locked to the road, but I know that he’s listening to every word.
I never wanted them involved in this even if it was their mess in the first place.
I’ve sorted out my own issues for so many years that it’s hard to rely on anyone but my own team.
Trusting Xavier and Miles is a hurdle I never anticipated.
“Check in with Adam and Theodore and coordinate with them,” I say eventually, somewhat reluctantly.
There’s a pause. “You’re fucking kidding me, right?”
“Six was already speaking to them. I need you to work with them, alright? They may have information we don’t.”
“Whatever they can get, we can too. We don’t need them.”
If there was ever someone more independent than me, it’s Jericho. The fact that he’s settled down with four men is so opposite to how he’s lived his entire life. So sure that he has to look after me, that he has to atone for something that was never his fault. His big-brother complex is strong.
“Just call them. Or get Greer to do it; maybe they won’t even want to work with us.”
Jericho snickers. “Fine, I’ll play nice. What are you doing?”
“Getting Matthew’s lizard.” Not a sentence I ever thought I’d utter. “And then back to the house to figure out our next move. I’ll keep you updated.”
“If I don’t hear from you in two hours, I’m coming back, with cavalry in tow.”
Best to avoid that scenario. “Let me know if you find anything.”
Miles glances at me as I hang up. It’s my turn to say, “What?”
“Adam likes Greer.”
The statement surprises me enough that I have zero idea how to respond. So I don’t, and the rest of the ride to Matthew’s is blissfully quiet.
Miles doesn’t bother parking further away from the house, instead choosing to park in the driveway, in plain sight. He gets out without a word, and I’m forced to follow him up to the front door.
He eyes the holes in the door with a frown. “Did you happen to get a key from Matthew before we left?”
“You were there; did you see me do it?” I retort.
Besides— “I doubt Roger’s men bothered to lock the door on their way out.
” I’m surprised they even closed it. Might have been the wind.
To prove my point, I turn the handle, and the door swings open with ease.
I gesture for him to go in first with an exaggerated flourish.
“Tell me about Roger.”
Miles runs his gloved finger along the empty expanse of wall that leads down the hallway. “Did you leave any bodies?” he asks, ignoring my request.
“Just one. Entrance to the kitchen, just ahead of you.” There’s a glimpse of red in the room, though less than I expected. The body, of course, is gone. “Guess they took him with them.”
“Less evidence,” Miles murmurs, crouching down to where only flecks of blood remain. “Were they after him or you?”
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. If they were following me, they were subtle about it.
But anyone can be tailed effectively if done right.
The idea that they were after me, and that Matthew got caught in the crossfire, is guilt inducing.
Even if they weren’t and hadn’t followed me, me simply being near him last night put him in the crossfire. Asking him to dinner was a mistake.
Miles stands and turns to face me, a wisp of hair falling over his forehead. No braid today; he has it in his regular half-up style. It’s not as long as Jericho’s hair but long enough it would feel nice to thread my fingers through it. If he’d ever allow it.
“Where will we find this lizard of his?”
“Why did you kiss me?”
His brows draw in. “Excuse me?”
“Why did you kiss me last night?”
He shoves a hand into his pocket, changing his stance. “Xavier asked me to.”
I run a hand down my mouth and chin, floored by the answer. “Because he asked you to? That’s it?”
“What answer are you looking for?”
Not the one I got, that’s for sure. There’s something he’s not telling me. He takes a step back when I approach him, his back hitting the wall.
“What are you doing?”
I go to touch his cheek, and warm leather snaps around my wrist before I can make contact, confirming my suspicion. “You’ll kiss me, but you won’t let me touch you?” A strange line to draw.
He swallows, gaze flitting to where he’s still holding me. Keeping me at a distance. “It’s not personal. I don’t let anyone touch me.”
“Not even Xavier?”
He hesitates before saying, “No.” There’s more to the answer than that, but I don’t push.
“If he asked you to touch me?” I almost spit out the words, the taste of them bitter in my mouth.
If he only did those things because he was told to, that turns the entire situation into something else and not in a pleasant way.
I’ve never once had to force anyone, and being any way complicit in that kind of situation makes me feel sick.
“Then I would.” He says it so simply, like it’s not completely fucked up that he would go so far outside of his comfort zone just because Xavier asked.
“Have you and he ever…?” I can’t imagine how they would without Xavier touching him, but I’m not discounting it.
“No.”
That doesn’t make me feel better. There’s still acid sitting in my throat. “He forced you to kiss me. You didn’t want it.”
“When did I say that?”
“It was heavily implied, Miles. You only did it because Xavier told you to.”
Miles tilts his head, hair flirting with his shoulder. “I choose to follow Xavier’s orders; he doesn’t force me. It’s not a bought loyalty. If I truly hadn’t wanted to, then I wouldn’t have.”
I highly doubt there are many, if any, limits to that loyalty, no matter what he says.
Some of the acid recedes anyway. “Tell me why, then. The truth,” I push.
I want the answer from his lips. I want him to admit something.
To be here in it, instead of on the periphery, waiting for Xavier to give him instructions.
“I wouldn’t have done it without Xavier,” Miles says, breath hitching a little when I sway forward, our lips almost brushing.
Close enough that I can see every detail of his face.
“That doesn’t mean I did it without thought.
Or that I didn’t want it. You think I don’t see why Xavier is in love with you?
That I don’t notice all the reasons why? ”
“And if I wanted to kiss you right now?” I place a hand on the wall beside his head, crowding him further. Careful not to touch him or violate the trust he’s giving me by letting me this close to him in the first place. “Xavier isn’t here.”
“Are you going to do it or just talk about it?”
“Why don’t you like touch? Did someone hurt you?” If that was the case, Xavier wouldn’t have let that stand, would have killed anyone who dared to touch Miles.
“Not in the way you think,” Miles says, voice almost as low as a whisper. “I wasn’t abused as a child or as an adult. I simply wasn’t touched, and I don’t like it.”
“Is that why you wear gloves?”
“Partly.”
“But you’ll kiss.” It’s a form of touching; why is it different?
“I kissed you.”
The implication of that sits heavy. He can’t possibly mean that how it sounded. “And others you’ve kissed, did that not count as touching either?” My fingers curl into the wall. Tell me the truth.
“If I’d kissed anyone else, I could tell you,” Miles says lightly. “You didn’t touch me, and I instigated it.”