hand, he wiggled his fingers in demand. “Your phone.”
“It’s upstairs,” she answered with that same robotic smile that he was starting to find deeply disturbing.
“What is it doing upstairs?” Hunter demanded even as he pushed away from his desk and headed towards the stairs.
“I don’t use my phone while I’m working.”
“That’s real fucking helpful,” Hunter said evenly as he took the stairs two at a time.
“Mr. O’Mallery?” Kylie called hesitantly when he reached the landing.
Since he never made a habit of explaining himself, he ignored her and headed towards her room. In three long strides, he was in her room and heading for the nightstand where he found-
“What the hell is this?” he asked in confusion as he picked up what he prayed was a joke and looked it over.
“My phone,” Kylie said, sounding embarrassed as she should be.
“It’s a flip phone,” Hunter said, turning the ancient relic over in his hands as he tried to make sense out of what he was seeing.
Could this thing even send texts? he wondered as he flipped the cellphone open to find a tiny screen. This thing had to be fifteen years old, he thought absently, as he started hitting buttons, curious to see what it could do. In a few seconds, he discovered that it wasn’t much. It could make calls, text, receive emails, and surf the web…sort of.
“Could I have my phone back, please?”
“No,” Hunter said, fascinated that anyone in this day and age could get by with a phone like this.
As he searched through her phone, making note that there were only three contacts, a small collection of emails and even fewer texts, he couldn’t help but wonder how much memory something like this had. His calculator probably had more memory than this thing, which would explain why she didn’t have much on it. Then again, he amended a few seconds later, maybe there was a reason for that.
“Is this your personal phone?” Hunter asked, because he liked to have his suspicions confirmed.
“It’s my only phone,” Kylie said calmly, but he detected a slight hesitation in her voice, one that was very telling.
Hunter glanced up from her phone to take in the cheap skirt suit that she wore, noting that while it was obviously clean, it didn’t fit her. He quickly took in the rest of her belongings, two small bags that she’d probably picked up at a thrift store, neatly placed by the door. He didn’t have to look in the bathroom to know that she probably only had the basics, hairbrush, nail clippers, toothpaste, etc.
In a few minutes, he knew everything that he needed to know about the small woman who was sharing his sentence with him. She was a neat, no-nonsense kind of woman, and most importantly, she was desperate. She wasn’t going to cause him any problems, but just to make sure…
Hunter looked down at her phone again, noting that the only contacts were the D.A.’s office that hired her on his behalf, a number for a pizza place, and her old landlord. There were no emergency contacts or anyone listed as “Mom.” That made him curious.
“Are you an orphan?” he asked, moving onto her emails.
“No,” Kylie answered after a slight hesitation.
This was even more depressing than her contact list. Having seen more than enough, he closed the phone and tossed it on the bed. When he looked back down at the cute little thing doing her best not to look embarrassed, he realized something very important.
She needed him a hell of a lot more than he needed her.
Available Now
A Sneak Peek at
Tall, Dark & Furious
A Pyte/Sentinel Novel
Prologue
Massachusetts Bay Colony - Maine Territory
1665
“Where are you going, Trace?”
Trying not to panic, Trace shut the door before any sunlight could spill inside the small one-room cottage. Licking his suddenly dry lips, he turned around and held up the small leather-bound book his father gave him this morning after his trip into town.
“I was hoping to go down to the river to read, Father,” Trace said, forcing a smile that he hoped would convince his father that everything was fine.
Ethan sighed heavily as he sat on the room’s only bed and ran his fingers through his unruly shoulder-length hair. “Why don’t you stay here and read?”
“I don’t want to disturb you, Father,” Trace said, wishing he’d lit a candle since he couldn’t tell from the dim light given off from the small fire in the hearth if his father was still angry.
“Trace,” his father said in a warning tone,