With Hunter’s hand still on me, I felt him stiffen, his fingers tight on my shoulder.
“I take that as a yes?” I pulled out my notebook and pen from my pocket. It wasn’t that I’d changed my mind about leaving his identity a secret. I would. At least from the masses. But the thing was, every time I watched Hunter wheeling his chair, it reminded me how lucky I was and I wanted to thank The Raven in person.
That, and—to be entirely honest—I was curious. I itched to solve the Raven mystery almost as much as I itched to hear the BCA results.
“What about this vigilante?” Hunter pulled back from me and maneuvered to the opposite side of the table.
“Have you ever seen him?” I asked, scribbling down Hunter’s first reaction. “Or heard about him?”
Hunter shook his head firmly and grabbed his coffee. “Nah. Just what we all hear inScribe.” He shrugged. “Haveyouever seen him? Do you know who it is?”
Like with Quinn, I got the feeling he wasn’t telling me everything. The question was: why not?
I took a long drink of tea. “He saved me from Freddy Krueger a month back.”
“Freddy Krueger?”
“It was a nightmare and The Raven saved me from it.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” he blurted. “You’re not gay, and—” He shut up suddenly and swore.
I held my pen poised over my notebook and wondered why he was squeezing the life out of his wheelchair arms.
“Am I missing something here?” I asked.
“Ah, shit.” He drained his coffee and then reached over for my tea as if he could drink his way out of the moment.
“Hunter?”
He set the tea down. “Fine. Look, I may have noticed a few things about this vigilante, like the fact that he only rescues gay guys. At least, up until you.”
“Is that what you were hiding?”
“Look. It’s embarrassing, but I sort of root for the guy, okay? I wish—” He cut himself off and ran a hand though his hair. “I just root for him.”
I flipped back a few pages in my book to the list of guys who had been saved by The Raven. “All gay victims? Garret Tucker?”
“Gay.”
“Dylan MacDonald?”
“Gay.”
“Marcus Livingston?”
Hunter blushed at that name. “Oh yep, he’s gay.”
I listed all the names, and sure enough, Hunter responded “gay” to each one.
“All of them. See?” Hunter checked who was coming through the door. “Except for you.”
I thought back to that night. How Freddy had attacked me right outside Mitch’s apartment—“Your theory holds water.”
Hunter raised a brow. “Something you’re not telling me, sweetheart?”
“Mitch kissed me when I dropped him home.”
Hunter scowled. “Right.”
