HUNTER

Tack looks exhausted when he returns to Carys's house. I want nothing more than walk over to his room, enjoy a leisurely fuck, and sleep for six hours. Instead, we sit in Carys's comfy living room while the kids run around. In the kitchen, Natasha and Siobhan fix lunch for the little ones.

"Mom's making pizzas for lunch," Carys whispers to us. "She'll put Tack's slices in a blender first."

Tack chuckles at her comment before suddenly frowning. "Wait, you're kidding, right?"

"Of course, baby."

Tack's tense face softens immediately. He chuckles again at the thought of a pizza slice in a blender.

"After lunch, I want a nap," I announce and press my cheek against Tack's shoulder. "Suzanne texted to warn the FBI will be here later. I want to be rested and relaxed when I speak to them. I'm hoping they will figure out who did this."

"Even if they pick him up tomorrow, can you stick around a little longer?" Carys asks as she strokes her belly and looks uncomfortable. "It would be cool to have you nearby when Ripley is born."

"Of course, I'll stay. If Tack gets sick of me in his space by the time the baby comes, I'll bunk here. This is a quality couch."

Carys smiles at my words while Tack scoots closer. He doesn't have to say a word for me to know he's imagining us together every night for a while.

"If the man behind yesterday's carnage is a pervy fuckwit," Carys says minutes later after her boys stop playing and head to the kitchen to eat, "do you have any main suspects?"

"Well, I figure it's someone with money," I reply while snuggling against Tack. "Hiring killers must be expensive. Most of the men who get weird toward me at the casino aren't wealthy. A majority of their income goes to their gambling itch."

Tack's arms feel good around me as I begin to shake. My mind returns to the SUV where Atticus's life was snuffed out. I'm unsettled by how I've met the man behind all this madness. I probably smiled at him and made small talk. If I had been colder toward strange men, would Atticus be alive?

Kissing the top of my head, Tack says, "I feel like it's probably someone you know. Like, he wouldn't go from seeing you from afar to pulling this move."

"And this is coming from a guy who knows stalking," Carys mocks.

"What will you do when your belly can't protect you anymore?" Tack asks and narrows his eyes at her. "There is a long list of people waiting for payback."

"How dare you threaten me when I've been nothing but gracious toward you throughout my entire pregnancy? I even gave you that stellar advice days ago."

Tack shrugs. "Yeah, that was nice. I guess I won't hunt you down and punish you later."

"As if you even could. Pork Chop would absolutely wreck your ass."

"Not before I made you smell my unwashed fingers."

Carys gives him a horrified glare. "Every single foster boy who arrived on this ranch had terrible hand-washing skills. Except Pork Chop," she tells me and smiles. "He always took extra time to wash his hands and really got soap between his fingers. Mm, such a good handwasher."

"You have a weird fetish," Tack mutters.

Carys waves off his comment and changes the subject. "We've got two cute new foster boys. The taller one is always banging on stuff. While Hunter is staying at the farm, maybe she can take them to the music building and teach them the drums."

Carys smiles at the sight of her mom at the door. Aunt Fred enters with two elementary school-aged boys behind her. They're carrying platters filled with food.

"That baby is still in there, huh?" the bigger boy asks Carys.

"It'll be soon."

"You said that a week ago."

"Don't start with me, kid," Carys mutters and hugs her mom. "I feel bad today."

"Let's have the doctor drop by to check on everything, okay? I'll call Dot to come by, just in case you're close to delivering and need her."

Though seeming relieved to know her midwife aunt will be around, Carys exclaims, "Tack threatened me with stinky fingers!"

Aunt Fred hugs Carys and smiles at Tack over her daughter's shoulder. "Are you happy? Your face is hard to read right now."

Tack tugs me closer and offers Aunt Fred a big smile full of teeth. "I am happy."

"Funny," she says and reaches over to muss his hair. "You're on the schedule to feed the donkeys tomorrow. Will that still work?"

I smile at him before snickering. "Donkeys?"

"We have a handful of miniature donkeys on the farm. The kids love them. Want to help me feed the little weirdos tomorrow?"

"Yes," I coo, both excited to enjoy Tack in his element and to see small donkeys. "I'll follow you around for the next few days and be your helper."

"Who's this?" asks the shorter foster boy and points at me. "I don't know her."

Tack's demeanor changes and his tone softens when he talks to the boys. The shaggy-haired boys seem restless until they're under his gaze. Then, they straighten up and focus hard on his words.

Sticking close to Siobhan and Carys, I feel fatigue wearing down on me. I keep flashing back to Atticus in the moment before his death. I also remember how Tack looked when the shot hit him in the stomach. As yesterday becomes incredibly vivid, a growing dread builds about meeting with the federal agents.

As I'm sitting in the kitchen, Aunt Fred surprises me when her fingers stroke the back of my neck. She offers the motherly affection I'm missing with Suzanne so far away. I lean back against her and smile upward.

Aunt Fred is a complicated woman. She owns such a soft touch and tender voice. Her comforting smile wraps around people, stealing their fears and soothing their pain. Yet, this woman is deeply entrenched in a violent world filled with dangerous people.

I'm not so sure I can be as complicated as Aunt Fred. I'm a pampered rich girl out of her element right now. As much as I trust the people around me, I'm clearly an outsider.

Stuck between yesterday's chaos and today's responsibilities, I only want to hide in Tack's room and cling to the man who saved me.