Page 66 of The Revenge Agenda

I smile, relaxing that he at least seems a lot more friendly. “Hey. Rush home?”

Molly cocks his head, echoing his boyfriend’s body language in a spooky way. “He know you’re coming over?”

Jesus fuck.

I could lie and say yes, then make out like Rush forgot, but I’m not an asshole. “He doesn’t, but he wasn’t at work, so I wanted to check he’s okay.”

“Couldn’t pick up the phone?”

I narrow my eyes, gaze swinging from Molly to Seven and back again. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on.”

I cock an eyebrow, and this time, I mimic their stance. “Then why are you being so rude?”

“It’s not rude to ask if someone is expecting you.”

“No, but it is rude to not tell the person they have a visitor.”

We’re in a standoff, Seven looking unimpressed, Molly looking torn, and me hopefully looking like I have the upper hand when I’m definitely not sure I do.

Finally, Seven takes a step back, tips his head, and roars, “Rush! Visitor!” His eyes hold a challenge when they turn back to me. “There. I told him.”

Taking a chance, I roll my eyes and step past them, and thankfully, neither of them tries to stop me. The house is as warm and settling as it was the first time I was here, and it might be old and large, but it’s got a cozy feel to it. I can see why Rush loves the place.

“Unless you want me opening every door on the top floor, you might want to show me which one his bedroom is,” I call back as I climb the staircase.

Molly bounds up ahead of me. “Since you’re twisting my arm and everything …” He doesn’t sound too offended, so I keep on faking confidence and following him.

Molly stops outside a random door. “This is his room, but he’s not in here.”

It’s possible Molly is lying, but I take a guess. “Atelier?”

“Ah …”

“That’s a yes.” I grin and head in that direction, passing Seven as he approaches. Just before I turn the corner, I hear Molly whisper, “My heart will shrivel up and die if those two don’t fall in love.”

Love is getting way too far ahead of ourselves, but I’m not going to tell him that. The fact he thinks that at all gives me a boost, even if I didn’t stick around to hear Seven’s answer. I get the feeling that guy doesn’t like me all that much, but then, I’m not so sure he likes anyone.

The atelier door is closed, so I give it a light tap, and when I don’t get an answer, I crack the door a little. “Rush?”

“Who’s there?”

“Hunter. Can I come in?”

He doesn’t immediately answer. “Hunter?”

I almost laugh. “From work?”

“No, no, I know Hunter.” The door yanks open. “Why is Hunter here?”

“You didn’t show up to work today.” I study him, looking for signs that he’s sick or unhappy. Neither is immediately obvious, but there’s definitely something going on.

“Work? What time is it?”

“Two.”

“a.m.?” His voice sounds vague and detached.

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