Page 7 of Only the Hunter

How could I forget? Apparently a near-death experience isn’t enough to jog my memory for an impending inconvenience.

Outside, the street feels too open. I order a ride and walk toward the lighted corner.

Five minutes away.

I accept.

And then I see it.

A dark gray Toyota 4Runner rolls closer, mud splattered across the bumper. Roof racks silhouetted under the streetlights.

The same one from this morning.

My pulse ticks up as it slows to a stop.

In this light, all I see is a shadow beyond the windshield.

Chapter 3

Gabriel

I’ve been watching her for weeks.

Routine, not fixation. Routes. Timing. Patterns. Observing who comes and goes. Looking out for anyone who doesn’t belong.

It’s what I do.

Her townhouse sits mid-block—good sightlines, poor cover. Too many blind spots if someone wanted to get close without being seen. The alley behind it bothers me.

Not making my presence known to her is strategic. When Scott shared his concerns about her line of work, I suggested security. Her father hires it from time to time. The concept isn’t foreign to Evie. But he said she’d refuse it—that she’d always refuse it. She doesn’t want anything to do with her father’s world. Or the protection that comes with it.

Scott agrees their father can be overly protective. Born in Egypt, while he’s fully assimilated into the American culture, he carries a worldview about women and marriage that Evie rebels against and even Scott doesn’t share.

I’m not close to her father, but from what I understand from Scott, he worries. Constantly. Obsessively. He calls it concern. Evie calls it control.

I don’t call it anything.

But when Scott called and shared what his dad had learned about the case she’s prosecuting, I listened and acted.

Scott concerned? That meant things were real. I refused to downplay it—I know too well how fast things can change, how quickly a low-level risk becomes something you can’t take back.

When I mentioned to my boss my concerns for a childhood friend working in DC, and that I’d like to be considered if anything on the east coast opened up, the timing worked. KOAN, a group our company had ties with, had an opening in DC. By the end of the day I’d spoken to Hudson Stone at KOAN. By nightfall, Rhodes MacMillan had called. He already knew Evie. Had helped her before—and he told me to let him know if there’s anything he could do to ensure her safety. Said he felt indebted to her father, that he’d been one of his first investors—and when he met with Evie, he’d been impressed by her convictions.

Three days later, I was on a flight to DC with my truck and belongings not far behind. KOAN gave me a daytime assignment providing protective detail for a crisis communications executive. A woman with high visibility, my role was low risk and mundane. But it put me in position. Close enough to assess Evie without making contact.

Close enough to be there if something went wrong.

If I’d approached her, she would’ve shut me out.

I’m positive.

Plus, by not connecting myself to her in any way, I could better assess the situation. Learn if anyone else had taken up an interest in the prosecutor.

So I stayed back. Assessed. Determined she was safe.

Fell into a routine.

Daytime protective detail. Evening, watching for Evie to leave the office. Monitoring to see if anyone else was watching.