to make me feel guilty for not practicing my French.
Hunter pushed past to get the coffee and nudged me into the shelf. A stack of mugs teetered on the edge and started to tumble, but I grabbed them just as they toppled down.
“Close call.” I grinned at Hunter with an armful of identical FBI branded mugs.
He wasn’t looking at me. His eyes were on the phone I’d reflexively set on the counter when I’d caught the cups. Screen up.
His face was drawn. I had a new message, and it wasn’t about learning French. My stomach sank as I hurried to restack the mugs and pretend I hadn’t noticed what he’d seen, hoping to come up with some kind of explanation that wouldn’t break my promise to Brax to keep the truth from his brothers for now. The whole truth, at least.
“Why did Brax just text you a picture?” Hunter’s voice was steady until it pitched at the end.
“It’s not what you think.” I didn’t know what he was thinking but I bet he couldn’t guess Brax had sent me a signed statement.
Hunter turned his back and poured himself a black coffee. “What’s the photo of then? If it’s not what I think.”
I leaned against the wall in the tight space and closed my eyes briefly in agony over the position I was in. I wasn’t going to lie to my partner. I wouldn’t tell him the whole truth if I could help it, for Brax’s sake, but I couldn’t mislead him.
“Brax is going to have to tell you,” I said quietly.
“He wasn’t home last night or this morning.” Hunter turned to face me and took a quick sip of coffee, his face blank. “You know where he is?”
“He’s at my house.”
“Your house.” He pressed his tongue into his cheek and nodded. “Huh.”
This wasn’t how I wanted this to go. “He needed a place to stay.”
Hunter raised his eyebrows and leaned back. “Really? Because he doesn’t have a penthouse apartment in a waterfront warehouse conversion?”
“Because he went to Ian’s last night.”
Hunter froze at the mention of Ian. His jaw tensed and his eyes searched mine as his face dropped in fear. “What happened?”
“I can’t tell you that. But he’s safe, Hunter. He wanted space before he tells you or the others—”
He closed his eyes and slumped against the wall. “Fuck.”
I weighed how much I should tell Hunter. How much I’d want or need to know, if I were in his position and it was my sister we were talking about. “Brax called me to pick him up from near Ian’s after… Ian hit him.”
“That fucking piece of shit…” Hunter inhaled sharply and clenched his hand tightly around his coffee and the other into a tight fist.
“Brax didn’t want—”
“Why did Brax call you? Why you?” His gaze flicked onto me again, searing with accusation again.
Ouch.
The truth was on my side, at least. “He didn’t want to worry you or his other brothers. I let him sleep at my house. ”
“Is he still there? I need to see him. Let’s go.” He set down his mug, but I made my body into a wall.
“C’mon, Hunter. Brax needs more personal power, not less. Let him come to you guys when he’s ready.”
He squinted at me in a fashion way too akin to Brax’s suspicious looks—they were so alike for brothers not related by blood. I held back a smile and let him glare at me while he mulled over what I’d said. I knew I was right.
And so did Hunter. He stepped back, slid my phone off the counter and held it out to me loosely.
As soon as I took it, his shoulders slumped and he shook his hair out of its ponytail, like he was releasing the tense energy and slipping back into his chill guy persona. His whole energy field seemed to shift and he was back to looking like he’d just walked off a surf beach.
“All right. I’ll give him some time.” He clapped my shoulder on the way past as he moved out into the corridor, but he did it much harder than usual. “Thanks for taking care of my little bro.”
9
Braxton
Woe was fucking me. I heard Ryland’s car pull in the driveway, realized it was dark, and couldn’t believe I’d spent all day feeling sorry for myself. I sat up, threw off the couch blankets, and tried to hide the mess I’d made. The coffee table was crowded with a spilled bag of potato chips, the melted remains of