Chapter 9

Drumming my fingers on the desk, I stare at the blinking cursor on my computer screen. For the past thirty minutes, I've been trying to figure out how to lead to the story's climax. I love my job. Having free rein of creativity. Manipulating readers into believing one thing when the truth is the total opposite. Building my own worlds. Influencing the emotions of others. In a way, authors are gods of their own universes.

Needing a break to let my mind rest and regroup, I grab my empty coffee mug and carry it to the kitchen. It's almost lunch time, so I decide to make myself a sandwich.

I'm sitting at the bar in the kitchen when my eyes catch on the laundry basket on the floor just outside the laundry room door. Hunter's shirt on top of the pile of clothes reminds me of last night when Hunter and I were waiting to shower. As I stood in front of him with my face pressed against his chest, I thought I caught a hint of a feminine scent. It was barely noticeable, but one that was oddly familiar.

If Hunter were any other man, I would doubt his fidelity, but I have complete trust in him. I know with absolute certainty that he will never cheat on me. I know how lucky I am, because a lot of women can't say the same.

There must be another explanation as to why Hunter would have the scent of another woman on him. It could easily be Katie's. Or any number of the other women he works with daily at Slate. I know he would never willingly touch one of them, but that doesn't mean he doesn't come into close contact with them.

Although I'm confident Hunter would never cheat on me, I still don't like that another woman's scent was on him. When it comes to my husband, I'm possessive. I'm not a violent person, but just the thought of another woman touching Hunter has a red haze wanting to cloud my vision. I love him more than I thought was possible for a person to love someone. He's my heart and soul, and I'd be utterly lost without him.

My phone ringing on the counter pulls me out of my dark thoughts. I lean to the side and look at the screen without putting my sandwich down. I smile when I see the name.

I press the answer button and hit the speaker. "Hey, Megs," I greet my best friend.

The line is quiet on her end for a moment before her voice comes through.

"Oh, good. I wasn't sure if you… would be available," she finishes slowly.

"Why wouldn't I be? I'm pretty much always available. That's one of the perks of working from home." I laugh.

"Yeah, well, I don't know. I wasn't sure if you were busy writing or whatever else you authors do in front of a computer."

"I always have time for my best friend." I prop my chin on my hand. "So, what's up?"

"I was calling to see how you were doing."

"I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

Another pause on her end. "Never mind," she finally mutters. "Just ignore me."

"Okay." I draw out the word, setting my sandwich down and brushing the crumbs off my hands. "Now you have me worried about you."

She laughs, but I know it's one of her fake ones. Megan has never been good at acting. I should know, I was in the one middle school play she participated in. To say it was a disaster is an understatement.

"Don't worry about me," she says, trying her best to sound sincere. "I'm just peachy."

"Your horrible acting skills are no better than they used to be," I inform her. "Now, why don't you tell me the truth?"

The speaker crackles, like she just let out a huff of air. "Fine. Just some stupid shit at work. Nothing I can't handle."

"Uh oh." I grin. "Is Mr. CEO giving you trouble again?"

Wyatt Foster, Megan's boss and head of the company she works for, has been giving her grief since he took over the company a year ago. She has a major crush on him and he won't give her the time of day, despite the heated glances she claims he gives her on occasion. When he's forced to communicate with her, his words are clipped and filled with animosity.

"Yes!" Megan answers a bit too quickly. "Trouble with the asshole again."

Something tells me she's lying and is using my guess as an excuse. I want to call her out on it and demand she tell me the truth, but decide to remain silent. For whatever reason, she doesn't want to talk about what's bothering her. As close as Megan and I are—for the most part, we've always told each other everything—I know there are times when a person just needs to work through their own issues.

"Whatever it is, Megs, I'm always here when you're ready to talk," I say quietly.

"You know I'm here for you too, don't you, Cat?"

"Of course. That's what best friends are for." I get up from my stool and carry my plate to the sink. "So, when are you coming to visit me?"

Megan and I met in kindergarten and were thick as thieves all through school. A few years ago, she moved an hour away for her current job. I don't get to see her as often, and although we talk on the phone regularly, I miss seeing my best friend in person.

"I'll be in town in a couple of weeks. Think you can wait that long?" she asks in amusement.

I let out a long dramatic sigh. "Fine. If I must."

She laughs, which brings out my own smile.

"How's Hunter doing?"

"He's great."

"Everything okay between you two?"

"Yes," I reply slowly, my brows dropping low. "Megan, what is go—"

"Sorry," she says, interrupting me. "I've got to go. I'll call you in a few days."

My frown is still in place as I stare down at the phone, watching the words "Call Ended" blink on the screen.

What in the hell was that about?

I shake my head. There's no telling with Megan. I love my best friend, but she can be a bit weird sometimes.

With my mind refreshed and the hunger ache in my stomach gone, I head back to my office to tackle my characters once again.

* * *

Later that afternoon,I've just shut down my computer when I hear the front door open and the beeping of the alarm as Hunter disengages then resets it. The alarm system we had installed years ago is always set when we're in the house. Hunter is adamant about it, which suits me just fine. It's the only thing that makes me feel secure and safe when Hunter isn't here.

I leave my office before he has the chance to hunt me down. I find it so sweet that he looks for me as soon as he gets home. As if he's missed me throughout the day and can't wait to see me again.

I walk right into his arms and roll to my toes for a kiss. It's not until I pull back that I see the prominent stress lines between his eyes.

My fingers curl around his biceps as I lean back. "What's wrong?"

The lines smooth out, but I've already seen them. "Nothing that you need to worry about."

First Megan called acting bizarre, and now Hunter is doing the same. I feel like they know something that I don't.

My nails dig into his arms. "Something is clearly bothering you. Please tell me what it is."

He sighs, his head dropping momentarily to glance at his feet. When he lifts his head again, I spot a barely noticeable tic in his jaw.

"I have to leave town. I may be gone overnight."

It's like a rope suddenly snaps around my throat, restricting my airflow and nearly choking me. The hair on the back of my head prickles and a flush feeling spreads over my skin, like I ran through a steam room, and a hazy blackness slowly fills the edges of my vision. I stare up at Hunter through the haze, my gaze frozen on his face. I try to force myself to breathe, but it's like every part of my body, organs and all, has forgotten how to work.

"Shit," I hear muttered right before I'm weightless and lifted off my feet.

The next thing I know, my head is being forced between my knees and Hunter is squatting in front of me, his hand moving up and down my back.

"Slow breaths, Cat. In and out. You got it, baby."

It's his calming voice that has the remnants of a panic attack slowly fading. While concentrating on the feel of his hand on my back, I take a deep breath and slowly exhale. In and out. In and out. The black haze recedes and my throat opens.

When I finally feel confident I'm not going to pass out, I lift my head. His concerned gaze meets mine. "What happened?"

"Panic attack. You almost blacked out."

"I'm sorry," I croak.

"No, baby." He wedges himself between my legs to bring us closer. "Don't ever be sorry. This isn't your fault."

I nod, even though I know it's not true. For years, I've had panic attacks, and I don't know why. I hate them because they make me feel weak. Like I don't have control over my own body and mind.

Remembering what brought on the attack, I suck in a deep breath and ask, "When do you leave?"

Instead of answering me right away, he gets up and sits beside me. He picks me up and places me on his lap sideways, my back against the arm of the couch. Taking my hand in his, he brings it to his chest and presses it against his heart. Feeling the heavy thump of the beat calms me more.

"I leave as soon as I pack a bag. There's a guy I've been hunting, and I want to get to him before he's warned and takes off."

I nod numbly.

I'm aware of Hunter and Silas's extracurricular activities. I also understand that by most standards what they do is wrong and unethical, not to mention it could land them in prison for decades. I don't worry about them getting caught. They know what they're doing and how to do it without leaving any evidence behind. Their methods are ruthless and vile, but what they do protects others. They aren't vigilantes who seek out these sick people, but if they hear of one, they also don't let them live much longer.

Perhaps that makes me a terrible person. To be so uncaring if a person dies. Most of the time, the notion goes against everything I believe in. But the way I see it, those beings aren't people. They're monsters, and who wants to walk among monsters?

His hand moves to my lower thigh and his thumb rubs back and forth over my knee. "You know I wouldn't go unless it was important."

I force a smile on my face. "I know. I'm being stupid. Don't worry about me. I just want you to be careful."

"I'll be back as soon as I can. Jacob and Peggy are coming over to stay with you while I'm gone."

I shake my head. "There's no need for my parents to be here, Hunter. I'll be fine on my own."

A look passes over his face, but it's gone before I can analyze it. "They always come over when I'm away from the house at night. I feel better knowing you have someone here with you. Please do it for me."

My shoulders sag and a ragged breath leaves me. "Fine."

His eyes fill with relief, and for the first time since he walked into the house, his features appear less tense.

My fear of Hunter being away from home overnight is a mystery to me. It's also ridiculous. Hunter leaves me alone at home almost every day while he goes to work, and I'm fine, so long as the alarm is set and the doors are locked. But just the thought of him being gone overnight nearly paralyzes me with fear. It's pathetic.

What kind of woman can't be away from her husband for more than a few hours?