Page 87 of Hunt Me

‘Then here-home after,’ I emphasize the sign, and he laughs softly and nods.

‘Yes. Here-home after.’

It means everything that he says it back.

After my shower, I find Denver at the table with Milo, looking over his cat portfolio. His CIs are off, so they’re using sign language, and Denver is helping him come up with bios for his new batch of strays that he’s captured.

Beside him is his go-bag—Milo’s word for it. It’s not an actual go-bag. It’s not for him. It’s for whoever his latest kidnapping target is. Since we got here, it hasn’t made an appearance, but now he’s been showing interest in the veterinarian, and I have a feeling we’ll be seeing a lot of Palmer soon.

I peer inside and find rope, duct tape, a blindfold, and what looks like several Polaroid photos of Palmer in his office. Milo’s usually a lot less subtle than I am, so getting these photos must have taken all of his concentration. I probably shouldn’t be proud of him for this, but I am.

He catches my gaze and gives me a look that tells me not to say anything, though I’m annoyed he won’t trust Denver with his plans. But I shrug and turn away, grabbing an apple from the counter and biting into it.

I’ve forgotten to eat again—a terrible habit of mine when I’m distracted, and Denver is very distracting.

I wave at him. ‘Food? You eat?’

‘Milo made me a quesadilla,’ he signs quickly.

I flush. I’m really shit at the feeding and caring of my boyfriend, and I need to make a list of things to remember because he’s not like me. And while I am profoundly aware that he has been taking care of himself just fine before we met, I want to be the one to do it now.

I walk over and hold the apple in front of his face.

He stares up at me.

‘Fiber,’ I spell. I don’t know if there’s a sign for that, but it doesn’t matter. He bursts into a gorgeous peal of laughter and puts his very polished, sharp teeth into my apple and tears off a bite.

It’s beautiful. Feral. Instinctual.

My chest puffs up as he chews, and I drag my fingers along his jawline, and his eyes start to close before Milo bangs his hand on the table, making us both jump.

I turn and narrow my eyes at him, ready to kill him for disturbing this moment.

‘We are busy,’ he says.

‘He is mine,’ I point out.

Milo puffs out his cheeks like a blowfish before letting all the air out, then stands up and slaps his hand over the cat bio book and drags it toward him. “Fine. I’m leaving.”

I start to interpret that for Denver, but it seems he caught what Milo said because he looks ashamed.

‘I told him I would help. That wasn’t very nice.’

‘Milo doesn’t deserve nice,’ I explain. ‘Trust.’

Denver stares at me, then gestures for me to finish eating the apple, so I do. I take it down in several quick bites and then take the core with me as I grab my keys and pull Denver toward the front door.

Tossing the apple, I grin as he lifts a brow at me. ‘For the other rabbits.’

His cheeks go scarlet, and I know the heat in them would taste delicious against my tongue, but there’s no time for that now.

21

DENVER

I get into the car,and Archie settles into the driver’s seat. I kind of like that he always wants to tote me around, though when my head is better, I am going to have to start asserting my independence. If I let this go any further, Archie’s going to start physically carrying me from place to place, and I don’t think I can take that humiliation.

Being manhandled in his bedroom is one thing. In public, well…