Blindsight: Complete Series

I TOSSED THE BACKPACK I’d hauled in over my shoulder on the floor at my feet, kicked off my shoes, then landed ass first on the only chair in the room. “Tell me what happened.”

“Right now? You don’t want to eat first?” He plopped his own bags down then rummaged through the kitchen.

“Tell me, Hunter,” I growled, crossing my arms. His eyes turned at the tone of my voice and softened before he swiped an apple from the counter and came to me in the living room.

He hunkered at my feet on his knees, one large palm on my thigh, the other taking a large bite of his glossy apple. “Eat.” He shoved the fruit in my face after he’d taken a bite. I shook my head, eyes burning with questions, imploring him to answer.

“JW and I had words a few days ago when I found out Brant was coming home.”

“You knew ahead of time and you didn’t tell me?” I sat, my stomach souring at the thought that he’d known what was coming all along. “You could have put me out of my misery! I had no idea what might happen!”

“I couldn’t foil the plan.”

“Foil the plan?” I screeched and jumped up before Hunter’s heavy palms caught me.

“Shh…you can’t keep a secret, Erin. The tone of your voice, the look in your eyes, you wear your emotions on your sleeve. Telling you would have blown everything.”

“What? I wouldn’t have-”

“Enough.” He held up one hand to silence me. “I found out Tuesday he’d booked his ticket. That’s why I cancelled the New York shoot.”

I sighed and hunched in my chair, playing every part the sulking teen I felt.

“I knew he was coming home Friday, that’s why I dropped you off early.” Hunter’s sadness resonated in me as his eyes flicked up my body, lingering at my neck as if looking for something, then to my eyes again. “Drove me insane that he was with you,” he grunted, and I felt my insides pool into jelly. As much as the feminist in me wanted to fight it, I loved that he thought of me when I wasn’t around.

“That was what JW and I argued about. I wanted to keep you with me, play it off that you just weren’t there when Brant got home, but JW insisted.” He ran a hand through his hair, as if reliving the argument. “That was the deal,” he said. “I bring you into this, you stay out of harm’s away as long as everything stays status quo.” Dark green eyes found mine. “But we’re anything but status quo.” His mouth lifted in amusement. “I don’t know how it all went down, I just had to hope you would open the door.” He looked up into my eyes then with unspoken words. “I knew you would.” He wrapped my fingers up in his own.

“How do you know he’s not…de-dead? How can you trust JW?” I shook my head as tremors quaked my hands.

Hunter pulled his phone from his pocket and scrolled through a few screens before turning it toward me. A bold heading on the Chicago Tribune site read FBI Raids Home on East Side.

My eyes widened as I looked in horror at a picture of my husband―head down and wrists tied behind his back―being led down our front steps by men in navy coats with vibrant letters emblazoned in gold.

“I thought JW was after Brant? The FBI?” I lowered my voice, my eyes searching his for more answers.

His jaw hardened then and his hands went to my arms, rubbing vigorously as if to generate heat, except I wasn’t cold. I was hot, on fire, blazing with adrenaline and questions. “FBI got to him first.” Hunter shrugged and stood with swift grace. “What do you want to eat?” He was off and rifling through the fridge again. I stood from my chair and threw off the blanket he’d artfully kidnapped me in and stalked into the kitchen.

“We have so much more to talk about.” I stood behind him as he pulled vegetables from the fridge.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Princess. We have nothing at all to talk about.” He pulled a strainer from the cupboard, and it didn’t escape my notice that he was quite comfortable here, obviously a frequent visitor. And the fridge was stocked―he’d prepared for this night.

“How were you there? At the right time?” The shaking in my voice radiated down to my fingertips.

Hunter’s eyes cut to me and the knife in his hands slowed. I stood rooted, waiting for his words, uncomfortable with his silence, terrified by his gaze. “Don’t ask stupid questions.” His jaw ticked and then he was back to chopping vegetables again. “It’s how I make a living. Photography doesn’t pay for everything,” he huffed under his breath, then continued. “I knew when Brant bought a flight home, of course I knew the FBI was already onto him. Timing, Princess.” Hunter flashed me a sarcastic wink.

“But won’t the FBI want me for questioning? Are they looking for me?” I shrieked, feeling fear choke out reason.

“It’s been handled. There isn’t a thing more to be said. We let the cards fall as they may.” He pulled a bottle of wine from the cupboard and blew a cloud of dust off the label. “Looks old, bet it’s good.” He was rummaging through a drawer and just like that put an end to all conversation.

I grudgingly took the generous glass of wine he passed me and sighed. “How can you be so calm? My stomach is in knots.”

“I’ve learned the art of patience,” he said before he put his wine glass down and pulled me into his arms. “All the hard work is done, the plan’s in place. I’ve got it all handled. While you were sleeping,” he kissed me sweetly on the forehead, “I was planning.”

“Hunter, how can you―”

“Listen, Princess, I’ve been doing this a long time, and the hardest thing to cultivate is patience. You can learn a skill, grow intelligence, observe your ass off, but you need patience to see a plan through. You’re gonna need to work on that.” He ticked my nose with the pad of his finger before he turned to pull a skillet from a rack and placed it on the stovetop.

I took a deep breath as my brain whirred with confusion. How could I possibly sit up in this cabin in the Wisconsin woods and cultivate patience? Did he think I was fucking Buddha? My husband was under investigation by the FBI for embezzlement with one of the greatest thugs in recent Chicago history. And if Brant was locked up, where did that leave…

“Hunter?”

He turned, arching an eyebrow as he began tossing vegetables and oil in the pan.

“What happened to JW tonight?”