Page 91 of Lucky Charm
She took her time studying the photo, then handed back the phone. “I don’t know. You can’t see enough of him. Could be your guy, could be a couple others we saw there.”
“Yeah, our conclusion, too. I’m checking the boxes, though.”
“Where is this?”
Hunt shook his head. “Not letting that be known yet. We don’t want anyone to know we found him. We have people doing a check. If they confirm, we’ll go hunt for him.”
“Why?”
“He’s connected to the man you drew, and we have questions.”
“You’ll let me know if you find him. I’d like to examine him again. See how his recovery is going.”
“I wouldn’t count on that, Doc.”
“Why?”
“We may not find him, first. Second, we may not scoop him up even if we find him. We may question and release. I don’t have those answers, and I’m not going to promise you something I can’t deliver. Ever.”
She got stuck on the word ever. Did he mean professional or personal? “Confirming his identity, then?”
“Yes, and you have. Thanks.” His eyes roamed over her face, but he stayed rigidly away from her. “I’ve got to go.”
She nodded and stepped aside to give him access to the doorway. She couldn’t touch him either. “Stay smart out there.”
“You stay careful,” he murmured and walked away, warrior purpose in every step.
Duncan stepped into the doorway. “What was that about?”
“Nothing I can share. More fallout from the mission.” She took her eyes off Hunt, aching inside yet determined to suck it up. “Buy me some coffee?”
“Yeah, I’ve got you covered.”
She followed him to the break room and put up a shield against the curiosity overflowing in the main area.
None of these people had taken care of the boy.
None of these people had looked a terrorist in the eye.
None of these people were in love with a warrior.
Chapter Sixteen
November 20, 2019
Day 16
Cait pulled her blanket closer and readjusted her laptop waiting for Jackie to reply to her email. Their weekly chat was by email this week instead of live. She would love to be able to put her feet in a hot tub of water while doing this, but it would mean going back to the hospital. All day mostly standing exacerbated soreness leftover from the “hike” through the mountains. That she was sore was more a statement to how she felt inside, not necessarily the fault of her feet.
The tap on her door blew her sore feet off her concerns list. Shoving out of bed, laptop to the floor, she flew to the door. “Hunt?”
“Yeah.”
No matter how much they wanted to be upfront with all they were together, they both were sensitive to concerns. She opened the door with a quick flick of the lock and a turn of the knob. Hunt stepped in and shut the door; leaning back on it, he looked her over. “New look for you.”
She’d opted out of uniforms and scrubs and into gray baggy sweatpants and her long sleeve Army sweatshirt with wool socks. “Bad day. I needed comfort clothes. You look tired as hell.”
His eyes settled on the Army lettering of her sweatshirt. He cleared his throat. “Can I have some hot chocolate?”
