“You can do it on the terrace. Don’t forget to tell X to call off his dog.”
“I’ll relay the message,” I say lightly. “My phone.”
Hunter tosses it over to me without looking away from where he’s peering into the fridge.
The double-glass doors that lead to an enclosed sitting area are unlocked, and the noise from inside disappears when I close them behind me. Light-wood decking, a six-seater glass table with white-cushioned chairs. A barbecue area lining the side, hanging pots everywhere—high enough at least I don’t have toworry about my head hitting any of them—and more greenery twining up the lattice. Everywhere I look, there’s a plant of some kind in my view. I’ve never seen so much green outside of a nursery.
Xavier picks up on the second ring with a warm, “Miles.”
“There’s been a change in plans,” I say immediately. “Hunter discovered me watching him.”
I can hear the smile in his voice when he answers with, “I expected no less from him. What did he do? Are you on your way back?”
“Not exactly.”
“I’m all ears.”
Glancing around at the forest I’m standing in, I take the three steps down to the rest of the backyard. I really should have expected more plants. There are even four garden beds close to the centre, where the high fences won’t disrupt their access to the sun. They all have mesh covering them, and a complex watering system is hooked up to them. Flower gardens bracket a swinging seat.
There’s a pond in the corner with a complex three-tiered fountain. Are there fish in there?
“He invited me inside, and I accepted. He didn’t give me much choice. What are your orders?”
Xavier’s silent for a long moment, though I can hear him breathing and the constant tap of a pen against a notepad. He’s still in the office. I hand selected the two men watching him, but being this far from him still makes me feel itchy, like bugs are crawling under my skin. I don’t trust anyone to keep him safe the way I would.
“Stay there. I’m on my way.”
Hunter
BeforeMilescomesbackinside, I’ve already delivered a bowl of fruit to Olivia and told her to stay in the living room while there are guests. He looks completely out of place in his black three-piece suit, eyes darting around the room like he’s expecting one of my plants to grow bigger and bite him. I’ve never wanted a Venus flytrap because of Olivia, but now I have regrets.
It’s been a while since I’ve had someone so well-dressed in my home, outside of myself. The black leather gloves are overdoing it a little, but I understand why he wears them. Lack of fingerprints would be a necessity given his line of work.
“Take your shoes off, put your phone on the bench, and whatever weapons you have on you go in the safe; I won’t have you armed in my daughter’s home.”
“You expect me to believe that you’re not armed?”
He already knows I am since I threatened him with it earlier. However, I don’t generally walk around with one on me whenI’m at home. The finger incident, and Xavier sniffing around more than usual with his pet, has me on edge.
“I’m not a threat to her. I’m not convinced you aren’t.” A white lie. No one this closely associated to Xavier would ever harm Olivia, purposely or otherwise. Miles is too deliberate to make those kinds of mistakes. I won’t have him armed in my house, regardless.
Miles holds up his phone with an acknowledged side nod and slides it onto the bench, out of his reach. Next, he pulls his jacket to the side, his single-breasted vest twisting slightly from the movement, and removes the sleek black handgun from his shoulder holster. Nothing flashy about it or the outfit he’s wearing. He stands out anyway.
There are two safes near the back door, one locked up tight that’s for my own weapons, along with a stash of emergency money, important documents for both Olivia and me—it once had Jericho’s, but he’s moved them to his new home—and another that’s ajar, ready for guests.
“I said all your weapons.” I’ll become a lot more unpleasant if he doesn’t cooperate.
“That’s all I’m carrying right now.”
One gun? If he was watching me out of some misguided thought to protect me, he should have brought more. “No knives?”
“They aren’t my style.” He slides a thumb over the subtle buckle on his plain black belt. “Would you like me to take my belt off?”
Well, I should have expected that. Of course, he doesn’t murder by conventional means. “And if I say yes?”
He slides the end of the leather from the dark metal frame and then raises an eyebrow at me.
“Keep your pants on.” Though I’m curious if he’s calling my bluff or not. Would his slacks stay on his hips without it? He hasmuscle and a more solid swimmer’s build, roughly the same as me, though if I have to compare, he’s bigger than me. Those slim hips, though… I doubt it, simply because I can’t see him wearing anything but a perfect fit. The belt is clearly there for nefarious purposes. I’ll never be able to unknow that.
