Page 14 of Only the Hunter

“Said you don’t have a life.”

“I suppose compared to him.”

“He’s just concerned about you. My question is, should he be?”

A month ago my answer would have been an easy no. “I spend my days in a secure office. Of course, so does Scott. The difference is, I didn’t want to work for Dad.”

“Fair.”

Silence falls between us as he navigates the streets, taking us to the hotel where Rhodes is staying.

He may have more to say on the subject, but he’s chosen to let it drop, and I appreciate that. If Dad were in the car, we’d be talking in circles. And if Scott were in the car, the conversation would be about Scott.

He flicks his signal. We’ve arrived more quickly than I estimated—I might not be late.

“Well, Scott’s doing well,” Gabe says, as if he too has been thinking about my family. “A big wig now. Like you.”

I’ve done well, but there are days it doesn’t feel like it. If you compared what I make to my classmates that went into the private sector or to one of the law firms…

We pull up next to a valet stand.

“You want to join us for lunch?” We’re going to dinner, so he may not. But, if his plan is to hang out in the lobby while we have lunch, he might as well join us.

“I’d love to.”

He so easily accepts that I halfway wonder if he planned all along to join us—which would mean he knew where I was going, which would mean he’s been keeping closer tabs on me than a coincidental reunion explains. I file that away. There’s no point making an issue of it here, in a hotel parking lot, when I haven’t decided yet what I think about it. I didn’t survive my father’s brand of concern by fighting every instance of it. I learned to choose my moments.

We find Rhodes in the hotel restaurant, already seated at a booth. He gets up as I approach and offers me his hand.

“Evie. Good to see you again.”

Rhodes MacMillan only agreed to see me last summer because my father gave him his seed money to start his first venture many years ago. But he appreciates the work I’m doing, and technically he has plenty of contracts with the government. I’m not officially a client, but I might as well be.

He does a double-take at my bruises, which, I concede, are gnarly, but he still proceeds to offer a hand to Gabe.

“Gabriel.”

The fact they are comfortable with each other seems odd.

“Do you two work closely together?”

“My company, ARGUS, works closely with KOAN,” Rhodes answers.

“KOAN’s the company I work for,” Gabe says offhandedly, repeating the name he gave me in the car Thursday night, but it carries more weight with Rhodes in the room.

Rhodes is the founder of ARGUS and lives in San Francisco. I’m sure he has connections with lots of companies.

Rhodes returns to his side of the booth, and Gabe slides into the booth beside me. His arm brushes mine as he settles in—warm, solid, and familiar in a way that has no business being either. I let it stay a half-second longer than I should before I shift, putting an inch between us.

“So the two of you met through work. Got it,” I say, although it feels very small world to me.

“My girlfriend works for KOAN,” Rhodes offers. I hadn’t realized he had a girlfriend, not that it matters.

Rhodes is slightly taller than Gabriel, and with his dark hair and commanding presence, it isn’t surprising that he has a girlfriend. He’s a private person, choosing to avoid the media as much as possible unless it’s a gratuitous TED Talk, and I appreciate that about him.

“Is Sydney in town too?” Gabe asks.

“She is,” Rhodes says. “She’ll be at your meeting on Monday with Quinn and Hudson.”