“No. He’s fine,” I insisted. “He made a joke when he came to. Same old Hunter. It’s shock?”
“Could be. Or it could be a concussion. Get him talking. If there’s anything weird or unusual, if he doesn’t make sense, mixes up words, anything. You call me, then 911. What about you?” She looked me over. “Were you hurt?”
I lifted my shirt where the bastard hit me. “Just a bruise. I’ve had broken ribs before, and this is not that.”
“Great. Look at the boy’s abs, Jane. That’s fine,” Cobb mumbled from his chair. “I’ll be over here bleeding from the head.”
Ziggy’s mouth twitched at his words, but she gently touched my rib cage, her fingertips moving around my side.
“By all means, touch him too. That’s really helping.” Cobb poured another finger of whiskey.
“Anywhere else?” Ziggy offered Cobb only a fleeting glance before focusing back on me. “Your legs okay?” Her tone slid from professional to teasing just to twist the knife a bit. A derisive snort came from Cobb’s side of the room. I bit back a smile but was relieved when she turned to her man. “Okay, baby. Let’s see your little scratch.”
Big fierce Cobb did his best pout. It didn’t quite work with his normal scowl. “A man shot at me.”
“Don’t be all dramatic, Damien.” She moved closer to him, took his drink, and sipped it. “The gash has already stoppedbleeding. I’ll clean it when we get home. Where I can make a full examination.”
Cobb beamed. “That’s better.” He stood up. “Kid, we’ll leave you. If the cops pick up the guys, I’ll call you.”
“We know where he lives,” I said. “The big one was the guy at the diner. Julian.”
“Makes sense. Castenada would send people to do his dirty work. Give me his address. I’ll get Abraham on it. We don’t want the old man hurt, so we can’t storm the place, but we can watch, make sure he doesn’t go anywhere else.”
“Thanks, guys.” I glanced at Hunter. He sat placidly on the futon, staring at nothing.
“Regge, you’ll call if anything else happens?” Ziggy patted my shoulder.
After they left, I took off Hunter’s boots and brought him a blanket. I babbled as I worked, just to have sound in the room. “You’re going to be okay? I can get some sweats for you if that’s better?” Another glance at me, a twitch of a finger. “Okay then, I’ll be right back.” I went into the loo.
I used the toilet and washed up. Then I changed into sweats and a clean shirt to return to the living room.
Setting a cup of tea in front of Hunter, I dragged out my laptop. “We could watch a movie?” I queued up whatever was on my playlist, and we settled on the couch.
I woke with a start, not remembering the end of the movie. Beside me, Hunter slept on. Adjusting the blanket over him, I went to the kitchen, thinking I could make some instant porridge or something warm. I’d left the window cracked so Archie could do his nighttime roaming, and only a sliver of light shone through the curtain.
Oatmeal in a mug, I turned toward the living room. The futon was vacant, a crumpled blanket on the floor. I hadn’t heard a sound. The bathroom door was open but no Hunter. Scarednow, I looked toward the half-open window. Archie flew up and ducked under the pane to hop into the room.
“Archie, where’s Hunter?”
“Gone,” Archie cawed. “Gone.”
I ran for the stairs.
Hunter was on the second floor, hands along the wall like he was walking a tightrope.
“Hunter. Mate.” I touched his shoulder. Like guiding a sleepwalker, I coaxed the man back up the stairs and onto the futon. I clicked the dead bolt and fetched the oatmeal off the counter.
“Are we mates?” His question was flat. As though he was unused to the sound of his voice. “You called me mate.”
“Yes. We are. Best mates, I would hope.”
Hunter’s head cocked to the side as he looked at me. “He wants you as a lover. How strange. The desire is there, but something stops him.”
A cold chill went through me. I studied the man—his purple streak, his soft brown eyes—all Hunter, but the way he held himself was all wrong.
“No, no, no.” I leaned forward, taking his hands. Flashbacks of holding Charlie flitted across my brain. Not again. I couldn’t lose him. “Bruce, are you… you?” I reached out to his face.
He recoiled. “This feels odd.” His voice took on a flat, almost otherworldly intonation.
