Page 97 of Passion and Payback

“I mean, when you’re not trying to make the right salad, they’re not but?—”

“You’ve grown fancy, I get it.”

“Shut up,” he said, rolling his eyes as he bundled things up and put them in the fridge.

I watched him as he put the groceries away, trying to measure his mood without being too obvious. Along with the quietness was a certain distance, just like the last time we went after one of the bastards who attacked him. We still shared space, time, and a bed, but an almost cold spot existed between us. Not that I suspected it had anything to do with a problem between us, but simply something inside his head that was keeping us at arm’s length.

“I can feel you staring,” he said, voice muffled as he bent over to put something in a drawer.

“Just noticed you’re in a better mood today,” I said lightly, hoping he didn’t take offense. Hunter wasn’t someone to takeoffense easily, especially if it was me, but the whole situation had left him...sensitive. I couldn’t tell if he was denying or just avoiding the severity of what he was doing and how it was changing him, but deep down, I thought he knew, and it was making him paranoid. That was all the more apparent in how he’d reacted at the party to my worries for him.

“I did my thinking,” he said, something thumping as he dropped it onto a shelf. “Realized that I’m okay, and here we are.”

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” I said, leaning on the counter and watching him closely. His movements weren’t sharp or harsh, and he didn’t look tense, but the air around him felt wary in a way I couldn’t definitively point to as proof. It came from the intuitive level of my brain, and if there was one thing any experienced soldier learned, it was to trust your gut.

I saw my first real sign of tension in him when he paused for a few seconds before I heard something else get dropped into the drawer. “Meaning?”

“Meaning,” I said, leaning over the counter to peer into the nearest bowl and wrinkling my nose when I discovered chopped cilantro, “you slept peacefully last night, but all the other nights this week, you’ve been having your dreams again.”

“I had cops come to my door and ask a bunch of questions about why we were even at that party,” he said with a snort, closing the door and eyeing me. “And don’t worry, that isn’t going into anything you’ll eat. That’s for my food.”

“Soap eater,” I grumbled.

“Blame your genetics, sweetheart, not me,” he said, shaking his head. “I just can’t figure out why they even bothered to come here unless they actually suspected we had something to do with it.”

I raised a brow, realizing he was finally ready to talk about everything, and motioned for him to keep quiet. Sliding awayfrom the counter, I went to the opposite end of the apartment where the guest room sat. It wasn’t like I slept there anymore, but I used it to hold a few things, which included the package I’d received earlier that week. Opening it, I walked back into the kitchen, placing the device on the windowsill. I waited until the lights flashed on before turning back to him to find him standing at the counter, still preparing dinner but watching me curiously.

“Supposedly,” I said as I returned to the counter, “that will block anyone trying to listen into our conversation from outside. A little gift.”

“Let me guess,” he said slowly. “From the same friend who gave you information on Mitchell?”

“The very same,” I said with a smile. “An intel guy who specialized in information gathering and digital sabotage.”

“And you trust him?”

“With my life, and as it turns out, the feeling is mutual.”

“Uh-huh. And, uh, how reliable is he? No offense, but I don’t know this guy like you apparently do.”

“Stitch is probably the best of the best,” I said with a shrug. “Which is why he was snagged before his contract with Big Brother was even over. Not sure what kind of pull that requires, but the military isn’t known for generously giving up one of its own when they’re as promising as him.”

“Stitch?”

“Something he had while in MOS school. Something about how he always managed to find two unconnected things and put them together. Tech stuff was never really my thing, obviously, but even I was impressed with what he could do, and I wasn’t blind. I could see how people way more tech literate than me were floored by some of the shit he could cobble together at a moment’s notice. He’s quick and clever, can work under pressure with the coolest head you’ve ever seen, and has morediscretion than anyone I’ve ever met, including the Spec Ops guys I worked with.”

A furrow formed on his brow as he chopped the last vegetables. “Who would swing their dick around so hard to grab him?”

“I have literally no idea,” I said with a snort. “I never saw anyone, and he never said, only that he was being ‘relocated’ and probably wouldn’t see us again. He got in contact a year later when I was on leave and left me a number to contact him if I ever needed anything...with emphasis on anything. I know plenty of organizations and groups would have loved to have him on their team.”

“Interesting friends you’ve made,” he said with a smirk. “And he sent you this when you asked?”

“Funnily, I didn’t ask,” I said with a shrug. “I just had a message delivered a few days ago that I had something waiting for me at a post office on the other side of the city. When I went there, that was waiting, along with a couple of other things and a note that explained what everything was.”

He paused as he heated a pan and stared at me, blinking slowly. “He just...delivered stuff you might need without being prompted?”

“Well,” I said, knowing I was reaching particularly tricky water. “You see, he’s the smartest person I’ve ever met, and information was literally his thing. I’m sure if I’d pressed him for more information about Mitchell, we would have had everything you found, everything you didn’t find, and stuff no one should be able to find.”

“You mean he put the dots together himself,” Hunter said with a grimace.

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