Page 8 of Only the Hunter

Time passed.

Then I got the call from Scott—she’d been in a wreck.

I’d been in NYC that day with Alicia Morgan and flights were delayed. Evie typically works late—absolutely insane hours. I didn’t realize I’d missed her.

If I’d been in the garage that night, watching for her to leave work, I would’ve followed her out.

I would’ve been there.

No parking garage today—no car. I didn’t expect she’d go into the office today, but Evie Thompson always defies expectations. Not only did she go into the office, but she worked late.

Her chocolate brown wool coat matches the color of her suit, and her block heels give her a couple of inches in height. Her dark hair is pulled back, like it always is at the end of the day, regardless of how it starts out. From my vantage point, I can’t get a good take on the bruises I know must be present.

She pauses at the corner and looks directly at my vehicle. Staring.

I freeze—like there’s a gun on me.

And wait.

Those almond-shaped eyes lock in place.

I’m not close enough to see the details, but Evie’s eyes are something I’ve never forgotten—a deep, espresso brown. Unusual enough by virtue of size, the kids mocked her. I witnessed it one time—put a stop to it with a simple, “Sounds like someone’s jealous.” They might’ve been in seventh grade at the time. I told myself I’d have done the same for anyone. I was seventeen. I knew how to lie to myself even then.

I always thought her eyes were the best thing about her.

Still do.

Other than her grit.

She’s an independent adult now, but with her slight frame and those doe-eyes, she reminds me of a defenseless deer. Aware. Wary. Likely to take flight with the slightest movement.

Only Evie’s a powerhouse.

My grip tightens on the wheel.

She’s still staring.

She looked straight at the truck this morning and talked herself out of it.

Not this time.

I pull up to the curb, lower the passenger window, and lean so she can get a visual.

Her eyes narrow, like she’s straining to see.

Those full lips part as she steps forward. “Gabriel?”

She’s incredulous. That’s a good start.

“Evie Thompson. Thought that was you.”

“Oh my god, what’re you doing here?”

“I work in the area.” I grin. “Can I give you a ride?”

She wiggles her phone. “I just ordered an Uber. But we should⁠—”

“Cancel the ride. I’ll drive.”