Page 12 of Exes, Hexes, and Strategy
Logan’s eyes widened just slightly and Rafe knew he’d guessed right. With a pleased chuckle, he turned back around and left the dining hall.
Chapter Seven
Kane Fletcher was not the typical territory-holding Born, and not just because of the policies he’d enacted in his brief tenure. Of the Born Rafe had met – visiting dignitaries meeting with his father as well as those at the Court of Elders when he’d traveled to Greece to see his mother – all had dressed a certain way. While most preferred designer suits, some seemed forever stuck in time, preferring fashions of old, but what they all had in common was that they dressed to impress upon others their wealth and station. Not so with Fletcher. The man was dressed in a black leather jacket over a plain white T-shirt you could probably source at any department store, worn black jeans, and scuffed biker boots. His brown hair wasn’t perfectly styled, the probably jaw-length front locks were haphazardly held out of his eyes by a simple elastic in the back, and the brown beard he sported, while not scruffy, looked like it could do with a trim. All in all, the man who held such power in this territory looked like anyone you might run into on the street.
Once Morgan had left them alone, closing the door behind her, Rafe took the same seat he’d occupied once before, expecting Fletcher to take the place of power behind the desk. Instead, the man settled into the chair next to Rafe, practically sprawling, completely at ease.
“So you’re Vincent DeMarco’s son.”
Rafe almost said ‘unfortunately’, his anger still riding him at what his father might have done, but Kane Fletcher continued, “My team worked a couple of retrievals for your dad. No offense, but he’s an ass.”
He couldn’t hold back his bark of laughter. Fletcher had no idea, Rafe thought wryly.
Leaning forward, the other man planted his elbows on his spread thighs, his hands falling lax between his knees. “Well, you passed that test.”
Rafe’s brow shot up. “Test?”
The question prompted a one-shouldered shrug from the other man. “If my calling your dad an ass offended you, there would have been no way in hell you’d listen to anything I could tell you, so this meeting would have been over.”
“Ah.”
“I’m hungry. Are you hungry?”
Blinking at the abrupt change in subject, Rafe looked around – for what, he didn’t know – before replying, “Ah, no. I just ate.”
“You can watch me eat, then. Let’s go.”
Following Kane out of the office, Rafe expected the man to turn toward the dining hall. Instead, he headed for the front doors claiming, “I know this great little place that has the best andouille. My Sophia will be pissed I went without her, but I’ll bring some home to her.”
Rafe had no idea what andouille was, nor who Sophia was, though he assumed the soon-to-be-pissed-off woman was either Fletcher’s girlfriend or wife, but he figured the comment probably warranted a nod and a smile of agreement.
The black SUV with tinted windows parked at the bottom of the front steps proved to be Kane’s. Again, nothing showy or ostentatious about it. No shiny chrome or flashy paint job to make a statement to any who saw it, though it did have a nice tan, leather interior with comfy seats.
As if the other man had read his mind, Kane offered, “I tried a sports car when I first took over the territory.” He grimaced. “Didn’t like it. It was fast, sleek – a gorgeous machine – but spending so much time in rigs like this as a Hunter,” he said, thumping the steering wheel with the heel of his hand, “you get used to sitting up higher.”
Rafe nodded. “Makes sense.”
Putting the vehicle in gear, the other man began to drive. “As a Hunter, you’re with your team twenty-four, seven. No private hotel rooms, no privacy to speak of at all. Shit, sometimes we even ended up crammed together in the same bed.” Kane shook his head, but there was a fond smile on his face.
“And you can forget about fancy restaurants or chefs. A lot of fast food and take-out joints, greasy spoons, and truck stops when you’re a Hunter.”
Rafe nodded again and Kane turned to look at him for a moment before turning his gaze back to the road. “Can you handle that?”
He frowned, mulling it over. Rafe was used to having a lot of privacy. Growing up, he’d had an entire wing of his father’s house to himself. Even when he’d moved out and had his own place, he’d still been alone. He’d also been incredibly lonely. The thought of being surrounded by a team, assuming he got on well with all of them, sounded rather refreshing, especially if Morgan Rhys had been right in declaring that that team would always have his back. They wouldn’t be hangers-on who’d run back to his father with every little thing hoping to gain favor. Or – as he was beginning to suspect had happened with Nina – spying on him.
As for the food, he’d never found the fare his father’s chef prepared all that appetizing, preferring simpler meals. One of his best memories involving food had actually been when he’d attended a block party with Nina, and she’d been appalled when he’d told her he’d never tried grilled Italian sausage with peppers and onions.
“What is that amazing smell?” he asked, as he and Nina strolled hand in hand through the crowd of partiers.
Looking at him like he had two heads, she asked, “Are you kidding me? It’s only the best food ever!”
Tugging his hand, she’d pulled him along, glancing back at him over her shoulder with an eager smile of anticipation on her beautiful face.
The memory made his chest ache with longing. Clearing his throat, Rafe finally admitted, “It wouldn’t be a familiar situation for me, but I think I could handle it.”
Kane nodded. “Good. That’s good. Me, I’ve been a fan of fast food practically since it was invented,” he confided with a grin, reminding Rafe that, despite appearances, Kane Fletcher was no wet behind the ears twenty-something, had been around for at least a century if not longer. He would have had to have been to rule a territory, no Born under a century could do so, but that fact was easy to forget when in the company of someone as easy going as Fletcher.
Arriving at their destination, Rafe followed Kane inside and watched in wonder as the waitstaff and several patrons greeted Fletcher, not only by name but with genuine smiles of welcome. No one in Vincent DeMarco’s territory would ever do that. In fact, most ducked their heads hoping that they wouldn’t do anything to earn the Born’s attention.
