Page 31 of Art of the Hunt
His legs weren’t touching her, either. He’d shifted back on the seat, leaving a good six inches space between his thighs and her backside.
She should’ve suggested he take an Uber. Except she had ulterior motives, of course. Once she dropped him off, if he didn’t invite her in—which she was reasonably certain he wouldn’t do—she planned to spend the night watching over him, making sure no harm came to the frustrating detective.
When she pulled up in front of his apartment building, he slid off the back of the bike. “Don’t stick around,” he warned.
“That’s a far cry from, ‘want to come in for a drink?’”
“I don’t have anything to drink in my apartment. Which you know, since you rifled through my cupboards the other day.” He snapped his fingers. “There’s another one. How the hell did you get into my apartment?”
He glared at her, as if he were waiting for her to explain all those scenarios that, honestly, she’d already explained. But he was human and in a bad headspace, so even if she tried again, he wouldn’t believe her. And she suddenly wasn’t interested in proving herself to him.
“Good night, Hunter,” she snapped. If he wanted to be obstinate and put himself into danger unnecessarily, who was she to argue? Maybe Zeus was right about these humans after all. Even the ones assigned to protect others didn’t appreciate when someone was trying to look out for them.
She revved the throttle as he walked away, lifting one hand in an over-the-shoulder wave. She didn’t wave back, which hardly mattered since he didn’t turn around to look.
Glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one was coming, she started to pull away from the curb, but then paused when headlights flashed, an engine gunned, and like a bad movie stuck on repeat, a vehicle tore down the street toward them.
Dropping her bike and wincing—shit, that was going to leave scratches—she charged up the path after Hunter, catching him around the waist and diving with him into the bushes lining the front of his apartment building. The sound of gunfire exploded behind them, and bits of brick and dust rained down on them for a few seconds. Screeching tires indicated that whoever had just shot at them was tearing off down the street.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Hunter said, and he rolled so that he was now on top. For a split second, she thought maybe he wanted to get frisky, except they were hardly in the right scenario and he was a human male, so he probably thought he was protecting her.
“Are you okay?” she asked, blinking up at him.
He placed his knees on either side of her hips and tugged his phone out of his jeans. When the screen stayed dark even after he tapped it several times, he let go a string of curse words that frankly was pretty damn impressive.
Artemis took pity on him and tossed a bit of magic at the phone to dry out the internal components and bring it back to life.
“Oh, thank Christ,” he muttered as he pressed on the screen again and it finally lit up.
“Actually, thank Artemis.”
He rolled his eyes and then seemed to become aware of their position. With a quick glance around, he hopped off her and stood, although he remained crouched as he reported the incident to whomever was on the line.
Humans started to pour out of his building and the neighboring ones, which, in Artemis’s opinion, wasn’t exactly safe. What if the shooter came back?
“Did you see him?” Hunter asked.
She stood and brushed dirt from her dress, which was now not only wrinkled beyond repair from their dip in the river but also smeared with mud. She doubted even her magic would get these stains out. What a shame; this was one of her favorites. She’d especially liked the way Hunter’s eyes had lit up when he’d seen it for the first time.
“I didn’t,” Artemis admitted.
“Get the plate number?”
“No.”
“At least the make or model of the vehicle?”
“Um, I’m not sure. It was kind of dark red.”
“That’s it? That’s all you recall?”
She could feel his disappointment, even if he didn’t say anything out loud. She’d failed at the very basic concept of police work: always pay attention to your surroundings. Take in the details.
All she’d been able to focus on was Hunter—getting to him, ensuring he was safe. Frustrating he might be, but she did not want the man to die.
Sirens wailed in the distance, and Artemis sighed as she headed toward her bike to check out the damage.
This night was not going well at all.
