Chapter 1 #4
"More or less."
"Does he at least have a first name?"
Another pause.
"You'll meet him soon enough." Hunter sounds entirely too amused with himself. “You two will make an… interesting pair.”
Interesting pair.
I look toward Dexter.
"I have a feeling," I tell the cat, "that this job is about to get weird."
Dexter yawns. I have no idea just how right I am.
"So I should start packing now?" I ask, opening my closet.
“Yes,” Hunter tells me. “The sooner the better.”
The practical side of my wardrobe lives on one side.
I have a collection from working at the Department of Defense.
Combat boots, cargo pants and field jackets.
Clothes I've accumulated from years of government work that occasionally required crawling through warehouses, abandoned buildings, and one memorable swamp I'd rather not revisit.
The artistic side occupies the other.
Graphic tees, my favorite paint-splattered jeans, and colorful flowing cardigans. A pair of bright purple Converse I bought because they make me smile. I eye the collection.
"Question."
Hunter makes a quiet sound of acknowledgment.
"How undercover are we talking?"
"Why?"
"I'm trying to determine whether the dinosaur T-shirt sends the wrong message."
"It absolutely sends the wrong message."
"It says I'm approachable."
"It says you're twelve."
"It says velociraptors are misunderstood."
"They're extinct."
"So are fax machines, and somehow people still use those."
Hunter sighs. "I missed this."
"You missed arguing with me?" I ask.
"I missed knowing you were okay."
The teasing smile slips from my face; I’m sure he hadn't meant to say that out loud… Or maybe he had. Hunter isn't a man who wastes words.
"I've been okay," I say quietly.
"You’ve been surviving." He knows the difference between surviving and living. He also knows I won't admit I've spent the better part of the last month hiding behind freelance work and computer screens because figuring out who I am without a government badge feels harder than I expected.
"You ready for the address for tomorrow morning?" he asks.
I nod before remembering he can't see me. "Hit me."
He gives me an industrial address on the outskirts of Charlotte. This is not Spartan Elite headquarters.
Interesting. I commit it to memory before he finishes speaking.
"I'll text it, too."
"I’ve got it."
"In case you start thinking about something else halfway to the truck."
"That's happened one time, Hunter."
"Kenzi." Hunter laughs. I smile so hard my cheeks hurt.
"There you are," I murmur.
"What?"
"It’s hard to make you laugh like that, but I always try."
"You succeed more often than you realize."
I’m not sure why that surprises me. Maybe because Hunter always carries the weight of everyone around him and always has.
His team, their families, his missions, the impossible decisions he has to make, and now Spartan Elite.
I've sometimes wondered who carries Hunter.
Maybe nobody, maybe that's the price of leadership.
But now at least he has Amber and she can help balance some of his seriousness with joy.
"I'll see you tomorrow," he says. "And, Kenzi."
"Yeah?"
His voice loses every trace of humor.
"This mission is bigger than anyone outside a very small circle realizes."
I wait.
"The body you're escorting belonged to a man who spent years gathering evidence against people no one thought could be touched. Important people with a lot of power."
A chill works its way down my spine.
"The evidence died with him?"
"No. It died because someone believes it did."
I frown.
"I'm not following."
"The autopsy will prove otherwise."
Silence settles between us. Hunter finally speaks.
"Some people bury bodies to hide the truth." His next words land like stones. "This time... They buried the truth inside the body, and they absolutely do not want an autopsy to be performed."
I slowly lower myself onto the edge of my bed. For someone who's spent her career listening to what the dead have to say...That sentence carries a terrifying kind of poetry.
"You really think people will kill to stop an autopsy from occurring?"
"I know they will."
His certainty leaves no room for doubt. I turn when Dexter jumps onto the dresser next to Ryan’s photograph. My brother is grinning at the camera in dusty camouflage, one arm thrown around a younger Hunter after some long-forgotten deployment.
Ryan always believed the truth mattered. Hunter still does.
So, do I.
Some stories deserve to be told, especially if someone has tried to bury them forever. My answer comes easier than I expected.
"Then we'd better make sure the dead get the last word."
Hunter is quiet for a long moment. When he speaks again, pride threads through his voice. "Ryan would've said the same thing."
Emotion catches unexpectedly in my throat. "I know."
"I'll see you tomorrow."
The call disconnects and my townhouse falls silent. Dexter stretches lazily before hopping onto the bed beside me, completely unconcerned that my entire life has just changed.
Lucky cat. He has no idea. I stand, cross to the hallway, and pause in front of the glass case I avoided looking at earlier. This time... I look.
The folded American flag rests exactly where I placed it, beside it sits Ryan's challenge coin and his dog tags along with a photograph of the two of us at my college graduation.
I touch the edge of the frame with two fingers. "I've got this," I whisper.
Whether I'm talking to my brother... or myself... I'm not entirely sure.
I grab my go-bag from the hall closet and get to work packing everything I think I’ll need.
First, my laptop and camera. Along with my forensic kit, my handgun and extra magazines.
If someone is willing to kill to prevent the autopsy, I better be prepared.
I make a quick call and arrange for my favorite pet sitter to look after Dexter.
She’s a college student who lives next-door.
She’s used to my last-minute jobs, as the DOD often had me jetting all over the place with short notice.
She’s amazing with him, although she tends to give into him and brings catnip treats with her.
The familiar weight of anxiety while getting ready for a mission settles comfortably across my shoulders and for the first time in weeks, I feel useful again. I can’t help but smile as I throw my dinosaur shirt in my suitcase, just in case.
I don't know that within seventy-two hours someone will put a bounty on my head.
I don't know that I'll uncover a conspiracy capable of bringing powerful men to their knees.
I don't know that the quiet giant assigned to protect me will become the safest place I've ever known.
All I know is that Hunter asked for my help, and I've never once regretted saying yes to family.
Not even when it changes the course of my life forever.