“What’s wrong?”
“Stevens was able to get a warrant for Bob’s arrest.”
“That’s good news.”
He nods. “It would be, except he can’t be found. She has a team looking for him now. I told her where we were, and she’s going to check those places, too.”
Bob is still out there, likely looking for me. I move to the front window and stare out. There are several cars parked along the street, and a woman is walking down the road. As she passes, she stares at me. I jump back.
“We should keep the curtains closed,” Hunter says as he shuts them. “They will find Bob.”
I chew my lip with worry. How long do I have to hide from this man? Then I remember what Hunter told me.
“You said the FBI would have enough evidence on him that I was no longer a threat. Well, clearly they have if they got the warrant. Can I go back to my place now?”
He sighs. “I’m afraid not. Bob doesn’t know any of this yet. You need to stay here.” He grimaces as he sits down in a kitchen chair.
“I’m sorry. Here I am thinking all about me, and you got shot. Can I get you anything? Something for the pain?”
He waves his hand. “I’m fine. I took ibuprofen.”
I sit across the table from him. “Have you been shot before?”
He stares at me as if deciding whether to confide in me. “Yes. Trust me, I’ve survived worse.”
My eyes well with tears, and I turn away. I have no idea why the idea of his getting hurt has me so emotional. Because I feel responsible? But he said he’s fine. The idea of him dealing with worse worries me.
He reaches across and places his hand on mine on top of the table. “Hey, what’s going on?”
The feeling returns. Every time he touches me, there are sparks. I stare at our hands.
“I don’t know,” I say. It’s the truth. I’m not an emotional person, nor one who lives in fantasies. Yet being around Hunter has me questioning a lot of things, like why do I feel like this whenever he touches me?
He pulls his hand back. “I’m sorry. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. We should probably get some sleep. It’s late.”
It is late, and he’s right. Having some space from him is probably a good idea right now. It will give me time to process everything that’s happened in the last couple of days. Maybe it’s the danger, the way he keeps saving me. But deep down, I know it’s not.
“I have a guest room upstairs. Let me show you.”
I follow him upstairs, where he shows me the room and the bathroom. He even has a stash of new toothbrushes. I wonder if those are for the women he brings here.
No, stop it. Fortunately, I have enough self-control not to say something about that. It’s none of my business.
“The reason I have so many toothbrushes?—”
“You don’t owe me any explanation.”
He tilts his head. “No, but I want to give you one.” He grins. “I feel like I should, which really doesn’t make sense, but a lot of things I think and feel around you don’t make sense.”
His smile drops, and he clears his throat as he looks back at the drawer.
“Anyway, Durango and Willow stayed here for a bit. It’s a long story. After it was all over, Durango bought me aten-pack of toothbrushes. I think it was his way of saying thank you.”
I can barely hear his words because I’m still caught up on what he said about how he feels around me. Is it what I’m feeling? Or does he mean he feels obligation? I should ask him or I’m going to spiral all night thinking about this.
“In your room,” he says as he walks out of the bathroom.
I follow him.
