Chapter 8

Monday 9.37am

Natalie

The coffee shop is quiet when I slide into the booth. I tap my fingernails on the table-top and stare at the window to watch the street as I wait for Jed to arrive.

I timed it perfectly. In twenty minutes, people will start to converge on the coffee shop, desperate for their mid-morning caffeine fix.

It gives me the perfect excuse to leave. I don’t want to linger and answer what are likely to be questions and judgments I have no answer to.

The waitress takes my order, and I smile and nod as she asks me how my day is going. For her, it’s an ordinary Monday morning. Her routine probably hasn’t changed. She’s worked here in my neighborhood coffee shop for as long as I can remember.

Mine, however, now includes looking over my shoulder and staring at my cell phone wondering if it’s bugged.

I can’t imagine what it’s been like for Hunter all this time. I’ve barely slept, and I’m so distracted at work, my boss thinks it’s down to worry over Dad.

I didn’t correct him. I didn’t tell him that my father is already back at home and doing better. I can’t even tell Dad what I found out about Hunter, so I’ve just said I’m not sure where he is, which at least is partially true.

Jed walks through the door right on time, looking just as slick and handsome as the day I married him.

His eyes find mine, and he gives me a warm smile I’m not sure I want to analyze. He orders at the counter before taking a seat opposite me.

He’s dressed in his casual clothes. Jeans and a shirt that hides his badge and gun he’s never without.

My eyes stray to the finger where his ring used to sit. I fold my arms in my lap and try not to sound as frightened as I am. “Thanks for coming.”

His blue eyes narrow, a faint expression of concern flickers over his tanned face before he nods. “What’s up?”

I take a breath and prepare for his consternation. We haven’t spoken since Hunter chewed him out, so I can only imagine what must be going on in his head. “Um, so. Firstly, this has nothing to do with us. This is me asking you to do me a favor, um, as a friend.”

He sits back a little and eyes me. “What’s going on, Natalie? Who was that guy on the phone?”

The waitress arrives with my order, and I smile benignly until she walks far enough away for me to speak. “That guy is called Hunter, and he’s why I asked you here.”

His eyebrows shoot upwards, and he leans forward. “You’re not serious about him?”

I frown, then shake my head though I’m pretty sure I am serious. “That’s not why I asked you here. He’s in some trouble, and I want to help him.”

Annoyance flickers over his face then he uses his cop voice. “What kind of trouble are we talking about here? Parking tickets kind of trouble or stabbed someone kind of trouble?”

I take a sip of my coffee while I try to collect my thoughts. “Witness protection kind of trouble.”

His eyes widen, and he sucks in a breath just as the waitress puts his coffee in front of him. He waits until she’s back behind the counter before leaning closer. “What the hell have you gotten involved in?”

I swallow and tell him everything I know. With every word out of my mouth, his expression darkens until he’s glowering at me. He flicks a look around the coffee shop and lowers his voice. “And you spent the weekend with him? What were you thinking?”

I have nothing to say that won’t condemn me further, so I just glare back at him. “Can you help me?”

He chokes on his coffee. “I’m a cop, not a feeb. And even if I could do something, why would I encourage my wife to carry on a relationship with a criminal?”

I grit my teeth at his use of the word wife. “Maybe he is a criminal, but he’s given up his life because of one mistake he made. His own sister thinks he’s dead and he’s been living rough in the mountains for two years. That’s enough punishment, isn’t it?”

Jed looks down his nose at me the way he always did when he told me I was being melodramatic. But he’s not saying anything which means he’s at least thinking about helping. “You know how insane you sound right now?”

I slump back in my seat. “Yes.”

He doesn’t say anything as he sips his coffee and looks around the mostly empty coffee shop. I’m readying myself for more disapproval to be heaped on when he gives me a half-smile. “You look good Nat. Tired but good.”

The compliment is as unexpected as it is unwelcome. “I haven’t been sleeping too well.”

His hand goes to his gun, and he rubs a finger over the handle. “If you like I could sleep on your couch for a while?”

I blink twice as my mouth opens and shuts. “What?”

He gives me the grin that used to make me weak at the knees. “I’m glad you called me. Even if it was to talk about another guy. I miss you.”

I’m so stunned I just gape at him. He misses me? We signed the divorce papers and he just now realizes he misses me?

“You have got to be kidding me?” I splutter.

He doesn’t even have the courtesy to look ashamed. “Why don’t I come around tonight?”

Anger is starting is build, heat coiling through me as I see why he’s suddenly so interested again. “And this sudden desire to spend the night with me has nothing to do with the phone call you had with Hunter?”

His smile falters slightly. “We were good together. You have to admit that?”

“I don’t have to admit anything of the sort.”

He laughs like I’m a silly woman who amuses him. “Okay. I’ll help you, but you have to agree to at least have dinner with me.”

I finish my coffee and place the cup on the saucer a little too forcefully. There’s no point answering him, so I just pull a bill out of my purse and leave it on the table.

I slide out of the booth and am out the door before he can say another word. I step out into the bright sunlight and turn on my heel so I can walk back to my apartment.

I hear him call my name before he comes alongside me and grabs my arm. I shake off his arm when he steers me out of the way of the foot traffic. “I’m not having dinner with you.”

His brow knots together. “Okay. I was being a jerk. But you’re scared, and I can help with that part at least. Let me take a look at your apartment; see if your security is good enough.”

Where was he six months ago? Didn’t he care about my safety when I had to find a new apartment?

I huff a breath. “Will you help me find out more about his case?”

He doesn’t look at me, just stares at his badge. “I’ll help you. But only so you understand why Hunter is bad news.”

It’s not exactly what I’d hoped for, but I need his help, so I nod.

He follows me to my apartment, hovering over my shoulder as I unlock the door. He steps inside and glances around. “Nice place. It’s bigger than I thought.”

I frown as I close the door, feeling more irritated by his presence here. He walks around, inspecting the windows and locks. When he’s done, he shakes his head. “I should have done this sooner. You need deadbolts and locks on the windows. I can get a guy to come around and do it tomorrow, or I can run out and grab everything and do it now.”

He cocks his head at me, and I’m rendered mute by his eagerness to help. I have no idea how long I’ll have his attention, so I shrug. “I’d really like to get that info first. You’re due at work in a few hours, aren’t you?”

He scratches his smooth chin and smiles. “You still know my roster?”

My smile is too weak as I sit on my couch. “Old habits.”

He nods and sits alongside me, so close that I can smell the cologne I bought him at Christmas. Cologne he never even unboxed while we were together.

My nose wrinkles as Jed pulls out his phone and dials. “I’ll ask Deb in records to email his case file, but it’ll have to be sent to my account,” he says.

His hand slides closer to mine while he asks Debbie for the information I need. I can see where this is heading, or where he wants it to head, so get up off the couch and open my laptop.

He’s still on the phone, so I make more coffee and try to stem the growing irritation that he feels so at home here. He’s leaning back on the couch, his legs stretched out, ankles crossed like he isn’t the reason I had to leave the house we spent countless weekends searching for.

What does he think I’m going to do? Have sex with him for old times’ sake? Am I suddenly so alluring just because I slept with another man?

If I’d known getting him jealous would work, I would have tried it while I was actually married to him. I slam the mugs down on the counter-top and scowl at the sugar as I spoon in two for him.

He’s probably going to take me remembering how he takes his coffee as further evidence I still want him. I have to force the scowl away when I hand him the mug of coffee.

I’m not risking sitting anywhere near him, so I take the only other available seat in my tiny apartment, which happens to be at my desk. “How long will it take?”

Jed snorts a laugh. “I forgot how impatient you are. My password is still the same, go ahead and log in. I have nothing to hide from you. No secrets.”

I type in his password, knowing exactly what he’s doing and who he’s trying to undermine. My lips stay pressed tightly together as he compliments my apartment from everything to the paint I chose, to the location.

When I can’t stand it anymore, I spin around fast enough to spill coffee on my shirt.

“Why are you trying so hard to get me to sleep with you?”

He frowns and puts his coffee on the table. “It’s that obvious?”

“Yes!”

Jed raises his hands. “Okay. I admit it. I guess I’m starting to think I made a mistake letting you go.”

Ice trickles down my spine. All the times he had, all the opportunities I gave him, the times he rejected me, and chose to answer the phone rather than talk or make love to me run on a perpetual loop until I start shaking with anger. “It’s too late.”

He gets to his feet and closes the distance between us, anger flashing at an intensity I’ve never seen before. “Because of him? Because of this thug? He’s worth more than our marriage?”

I yell at him, and he staggers slightly. “We aren’t married anymore. You were the one who ended it. Not me. You were too busy looking after everyone else, you forgot about looking after your own wife!”

He looks stunned. “What is wrong with you?”

Heat blazes across my cheeks at the familiar jab. Even after hearing it every time we argued, his words still cut to the bone. “There is nothing wrong with me.”

He shakes his head, disgust making his face twist into a scowl. “Whatever. You made your bed, go lie in it.”

Jed stalks across the room, yanks open the door and slams it so hard one of my framed photographs falls off the wall and smashes.

I take a couple of breaths, anger fizzling inside me, hands shaking as I stare at the broken glass on a photograph a neighbor took of the cabin a few years back.

It’s one of the last photos we have of the four of us. Before Mom left. Before Dad got diagnosed with cancer. Mom is smiling, Jemma is sitting on a picnic blanket beside the river, grinning with a sandwich in her hand. I’m sitting there, but I’m the only one not looking at the camera. I’m staring at the mountains, a blissful look on my face.

Dad looks healthy and strong. Mom’s red hair is blowing around her face; her cheeks are ruddy. But her smile is forced. There’s something in the way her eyes seem dead, I can see now but didn’t understand or see back then.

I slump against the wall and stare at the place where the photo hung. It looks strangely off-center with the two other photos hanging beside the empty space.

I’m staring at the wall, trying not to think about what Hunter is doing when I hear a ping as an email lands in my inbox.

I groan as I ease myself to standing, the slightest amount of pain in my ankle, giving me a warning I shouldn’t be too relaxed about mistreating it so soon.

I don’t know what information I expect to see in the content of Debbie’s email, and Jed obviously didn’t either, but it’s clear she likes him. I tap on the email and push my glasses over my nose before I grab my coffee, and settle down to read it.

Hey sugar,

I got that case for you. It took a little doing because there were all sorts of hoops to jump through, so I expect recompense.

Got that sugar?

Recompense.

I open the files and read through the various case notes and files that make up Hunter’s criminal history until my eyeballs are burning.

As far as I can tell, Hunter has an arrest record going back five years before the bank robbery, mostly petty crimes, including several bar brawls, one act of lewd behavior in a public place and one theft of a bottle of scotch from a liquor store when he was still a minor.

He served a year in a penitentiary and got out a month before the robbery. In his statement, he claimed to have met Falcone’s son, Bobby in prison and agreed to take the job because Eddie Falcone assured him no one would get hurt.

I swallow as I read the crime scene report. A man was shot, wounded but not killed. An innocent bank teller.

I close the email feeling sick to my stomach. Hunter never served any time for his part. But he lost his freedom and his family, just the same.

I don’t have to read anymore to know what happened. Hunter agreed to turn state’s evidence in exchange for a pardon, in doing so he placed a target on his head, so he faked his death with help from the FBI.

I let that sink in, trying to absorb it, trying to understand what this all means for him. For me. For us.

No matter which way I look at it, it’s impossible. Men like Eddie Falcone don’t just forget. There’s no way Hunter could ever live a normal life again.

He seemed so content up at the cabin. Was that where he asked to be sent? Do they even let you choose?

I lean forward and tap in Hunter Sloan, Haven Springs. Nothing comes up. So I try a couple of other searches. Haven Springs, Hunter Sloan, Dragon Tattoo.

The search results all come back as tattoo parlors, which I scroll through aimlessly, barely paying attention as I try to think of another search combination to try.

I pull my shoulders back, trying to correct my slumped posture when I see a grainy photo of a tattoo that makes me scroll back and recheck.

I hold my breath as the image centers on the screen. My heart starts to beat a little faster as I click on the tattoo parlor. Tim West, Wild, Wild, West Designs. Est. 2014

I read a little about the company and see why it came up as a valid search. The physical address is in the city, but the P.O. Box is in Haven Springs.

Adrenaline starts to surge through me as I find the owner of the private box. I dig around until I find Timothy West and nearly squeal when I see he has a strong personal online presence. After around ten minutes of stalking, I find a few posts he made around the time Hunter supposedly died.

My heart thuds unevenly in my chest as a photo of Timothy West and Hunter appears on my screen. They’re smiling at the camera, arms around each other and drunk as skunks by the looks of things. I scroll through and find another photo of Hunter, with slighter shorter hair, and a lot less muscle mass, sitting shirtless in a chair, with Tim leaning over him as he works on the tattoo on his chest. My eyes widen as I read the comments underneath it.

Kelly R: OMG Hunter. *drools*

Eric: Hunter. Put your clothes back on you fucking poser.

Rob: Hunter. You drunk were you that night?

Hunter: Fuck you Eric.

Tim: Eric. He screamed like a girl.

Hunter: ???

Tim: Eric. I thought he was going to cry. At one point I had to hug him.

Felicity: Hunter. Tim. Love it. Totally hot.

Hunter: Felicity. Thanks babe.

Tim: Thanks Felicity.

Grace: Hunter. Bro, cover UP already. We already know you’re buff do you HAVE to advertise it?

Tim: Grace. He paid me to put it up.

Hunter: Grace Unfriend Tim. He jerks off to your bikini pics.

Tim: Hunter. You’re such a fucking asshole.

Grace: Tim. I know. I love your bikini shots too. *wink wink*

Hunter: Grace. Tim. Currently vomiting.

Jake: Tim. How gay are you and Hunter right now?

Hunter: Jake. WTF dude? You high again?

Jake: Hunter. Always. But you do look gay as fuck.

Tim: Hunter. I knew I shouldn’t have put this picture up.

Felicity: Aaaw Tim. Are they being mean?

Tim: Yeah. Felicity. My feelings are hurt. Want to come over and make me feel better?

Grace: OH GOOD GRIEF. STAAAAAP. I’m turning my notifications off.

Kelly: Hunter We still on for Friday night?”

Hunter: Kelly. Totally, babe. You can see the tattoo up close and personal.

I give up reading feeling totally confused. Hunter is coming across as a conceited, arrogant jerk. He sounds nothing like the man I met who was so willing to help me.

No wonder he didn’t want to come into the valley. Anyone could have seen him. He must still have friends that live here? People that would recognize him even with the beard and extra muscle?

None of this makes any sense to me. Why would the government decide to place Hunter up in the mountains when it’s close to where he grew up? If he’s such a valuable witness, letting him roam free over the mountains seems counterintuitive.

I pick up a pen and start tapping it against my chin. A nagging suspicion is growing, and I can’t put my finger on it. Everything about this feels off somehow.

My phone rings and I jump. When my heart has calmed a few beats, I glance at the caller ID. I don’t recognize the number, but I answer. “Hello?”

A throaty voice breathes down the line. “Ms. Jensen. This is Agent Waters. I handle Hunter Sloan. His life is in danger, and it is very important that you do exactly as I say. Do you understand?”

I whimper my reply.

“Get in your truck and drive to the hotel in Haven Springs you stayed at. I’ll meet you in the parking lot. You tell no one we spoke. You tell no one where you are going. Is that clear?”

I swallow. “Yes. I understand.”

The line goes dead.

Panic starts to surge through my body as thoughts batter in from all directions. I have no way of knowing whether the caller was really Hunter’s handler.

I close my eyes and picture lying in bed with Hunter on the morning he left and try to remember what Hunter saying his handler’s name was. He said his handler was pissed at him. I remember that much. But everything else he said is lost in a collection of hazy memories involving his lips, his muscles and him placing a gun in my hand.

I get to my feet, still unsure of what to do. My paranoia is spinning out of control, but the idea that Hunter really might be in danger because of me is enough to make me fire off a text and an email before grabbing my purse and keys.

I pause at the door, my fingers on the lock when I turn on my heel and stalk back to my nightstand and grab the weapon my father gave me when I moved here.

I have no idea if I’m being led into a trap, but if Hunter really does need me, and I can help in some way, I’ll do whatever I can.