HUNTER

After waking before dawn, I sneak away from a sleeping Tack and sit in Bear's old room. I text Tack to let him know where I am and consider calling my mom in Tokyo. I'm uncertain if her boyfriend is still traveling with her. Suzanne tends to push people away when she's on edge.

My sister and friends are all asleep like Tack. Rather than make calls, I decide to watch the videos made of the attack.

I'm immediately shocked by how close the person recording the first video is to the action. Despite the terrifying attack going on around them, this person moved closer to get a better view.

The street is a blur of activity, and the person holding the phone keeps pointing it away from me to see who is shooting. Then, the focus returns to me, first as I'm dragged from the SUV and then as Tack and Indigo create a protective wall around me.

I'm covered in blood, screaming and frozen in fear. Watching how close I came to losing Tack, I start shaking. The heat behind my eyes blinds me. I need ten minutes just to calm down enough to finish the second video.

After watching the raw footage, I search out news segments about the situation. I also find plenty of commentary from YouTube amateur sleuths. Several of them have traveled to Banta City and actually stand in front of my mom's estate to film their little clips.

As these strangers put the spotlight on me, I feel exposed and raw in a new way. They judge my choices while claiming I'm a drug addict, whore, and murderer. They often speak of me as if they're old friends with the inside dish. The Hunter Knutsen they create might look like me, but she's someone wholly alien.

I want to scream at them and demand they stop using my pain to make money. Can I sue them? Suzanne once filed a lawsuit against a woman who started rumors about her. She purposedly dragged out the process for years, knowing the other woman's money would run out before hers did.

Yes, I should go on the offensive! I can do interviews with reputable media and explain my side. Of course, any journalist is bound to ask questions about Tack and the club. I'd put more attention on people who prefer to hide in the shadows.

Can I really remain silent while my name and images become a commodity? The people who died don't matter. I should strike back with the facts.

Yet, even if I could give the best interview ever and protect the people I love, my words would still get twisted to fit whatever narrative the haters desired. I can't win.

Silencing my phone, I struggle against a building panic attack. I close my eyes and try to imagine myself somewhere comfortable. I see Tack and me at the clubhouse's pool tables. Rather than flirting in the subdued way we did in the past, I can wrap him in my arms and soak in his heat.

A smile warms my face as strip away the outside world and focus on the man I love.

Despite my calmer heart, I am still facing an hour of darkness before the sun wakes Tack. I can't return to his bed. I feel sadness rising in me. In all those news reports and YouTube summarizations, Atticus was barely mentioned. None of the staff were referred to by name. They've simply become collateral damage.

Feeling agitated, I walk to the porch to enjoy the fresh morning air. I find Indigo sitting on the porch swing with the dogs at his feet.

When he hears me sniffling, he mumbles, "Most people suck and should be ignored."

"Yes," I say, sitting next to him and crying in my hands.

Indigo pats my back while I sob out my panic. Once I calm down, I glance at him and ask, "Have you watched the videos from that day?"

"No. I was there when it happened."

"People are talking about us."

Indigo shrugs. "I don't care about people."

"It doesn't bother you to feel judged?"

"Who cares what random people think? I only worry about doing right by my family and friends."

Studying him, I use my shirt to dry my face. "You saved me on the road."

"You're my friend."

I smile at how casually he says the words. I've known Indigo for as long as I have Tack. We've hung out a hundred times over the years. Yet, I've always assumed he was spending time with me so he could be around his real friends.

As we sit on the porch swing and watch the sun come up, I consider asking Indigo about his feelings for Siobhan. Maybe a woman's opinion of the situation would give him the courage to make his move.

Of course, I chicken out. Indigo always feels on the edge. When he's quiet, like right now, I can't work up the courage to be the reason his good mood ends.

We sit quietly for an hour before Tack stumbles outside, looking crazed. "I couldn't find you," he mumbles and tries to fix his bedhead. "What are you doing out here?"

I stand up and hug Tack. "I had the stupid idea to look at the videos of the attack and then watch a bunch of fucking human zits talk shit about my life. Indigo helped me remember what matters," I say before Tack kisses me. "We also talked about your weird habits."

Tack fires a dirty look at Indigo who grins at him. I laugh at Tack's eye roll.

"We just watched the sun come up and chilled with the dogs."

"Wake me up next time."

"Maybe. Depends on how cute you look while you're sleeping."

Indigo chuckles at my teasing while Tack shepherds me back to his room. We remain cuddled together until breakfast when I force myself to face the world.

Looking for distractions, I take a few foster boys to the standalone music room. I play guitar while they take turns on the drums. Tack watches me like I'm magic, totally detached from how the boys bang wildly on the drums.

Just before lunch, my family's realtor sends information on a pocket listing. The fourteen-thousand-square-foot gothic beauty sits on ten acres and is located at the edge of the same neighborhood where Siobhan and Natasha live.

"You'd be five minutes from my place," Siobhan says, bouncing in her seat.

The photos reveal a house filled with character. However, the current owners ruined some of its greatness during a renovation. When their money ran out, they just gave up and put it on the market.

I'm already considering a lowball offer to test how motivated the sellers might be. Few people will want to invest the necessary money to fix a house stuck between gothic and contemporary styles.

By dinner, I'm obsessed with the house. However, Tack doesn't seem particularly interested in the photos.

Instead, he focuses on Indigo's refusal to eat with us before zeroing in on Kiera's chigger bites. When Elvis walks by and asks us to join them at the farmhouse, Tack gets tense and scoots closer to me.

"Are we in trouble?" I ask Siobhan. "What are punishments like around here?"

She realizes I'm mostly teasing Tack for being so tense. He catches on and scoots away from me. We laugh at his reaction.

"You're always ganging up on me," Tack mutters.

"Don't make him cry," Deirdre warns us before smiling at Tack. "You're a good boy."

"Thanks, kid."

Deirdre then whispers something to her sister. The twins look at Tack and giggle.

"I'm getting ganged up on again."

Indigo walks over with the dogs at his side. "Your whining is upsetting Sleepy."

Tack grins at the dog. "Finally, I have someone on my side."

As he pets Sleepy, I think about Tack's dogs when he was a boy. He learned people weren't trustworthy. Then, his dogs ran off. I think he worries I'll run off next.

"Aw, don't be sad," Siobhan says, hugging me when I feel overwhelmed by an unfair world. "Tack doesn't love his dog more than you."

Though I laugh at her teasing, my tears linger. That sad little boy is still living inside Tack, even though he hides his pain well. I never would have known how he suffered if Aunt Fred hadn't clued me in on Tack's past.

My tears are over by the time we walk to the main farmhouse to meet with Aunt Fred and Elvis. We end up in an office off the main living room while the foster boys file upstairs for their showers before a final hour of TV time. I imagine Tack once being like those boys. He notices the smile on my face and seems unsure about my happiness.

"I was just picturing your friends and you as little guys getting cleaned up for the night."

Tack instantly smiles and glances at the people who offered him a home. His grin fades when he realizes we're in this office for a specific reason.

"Turn your frown upside down, kiddo," Elvis tells Tack. "We've got good news."

Despite Elvis's words, Tack wraps me in his arms as if we're under attack.

"Zoot's been shaking down his contacts all over town," Elvis explains as he stands behind Aunt Fred and massages her shoulders.

I feel like the men are having a contest over who is most affectionate with his woman. I'm a little nervous we'll end up dry-humping to make a point soon.

"Zoot found out the mugger worked a lot of security jobs despite his criminal record," Elvis continues. "It was off-the-books stuff. Mostly underground gambling. Zoot got the names of each place the mugger worked at and who paid him. Many of them are shell companies meant to hide their real owners."

Aunt Fred glances up at Elvis who is now massaging her scalp. Tack fortunately doesn't feel the need to amp-up his affection toward me. Of course, I'm already trapped against his chest and unable to move.

"When Zoot and our lawyers gave the list of companies to the feds," Aunt Fred adds, "he sensed they recognized a name. If they can link one of those companies to the men on the list you gave them, this thing might be over soon."

"Hunter plans to live at the farm during the week," Tack announces while smothering me in his embrace. "I'll stay at her mom's estate on the weekends."

Aunt Fred smiles at his aggressive tone. "Do you think that's a good idea?"

I instantly realize how she's teasing him. Tack takes longer to catch on. First, he tenses in my arms. Then, he goes still, figures out what she's doing, and unclenches his body.

"Yes, I do."

"Well, alright then," Elvis replies. "Everyone likes Hunter. Having her here is good."

Tack mutters, "Is it?"

Leveling his amused gaze at Tack, Elvis insists, "Yes, it is, kiddo."

Tack realizes he's challenging everyone for no reason. The look on his face is so unguarded and pained as he struggles to trust us.

"I won't be returning to my condo," I announce despite this information being obvious. "It creeps me out and is too small for Tack."

"It's bigger than my room," he mutters, poking at me now.

"Yes, but when we exit the condo, we're surrounded by strangers. When we leave your room, we're surrounded by your family. I need to feel safe."

Tack's blond lashes flutter as he blinks wildly. I feel him struggling. He doesn't even know why he's upset.

Exhaling deeply, he asks Elvis and Aunt Fred, "How soon do you think the feds will let us know about their leads?"

"Depends on how airtight their case is against the asshole," Elvis replies. "Unlike the local cops, who jump the gun, the feds will hold that shit close to the vest until everything is ready. Could be days or weeks."

"Might be as soon as tomorrow," Aunt Fred adds. "But keep in mind how the media is still very interested in this ordeal. Hunter will need to keep a low profile for a while. I don't want you to assume everything will go back to normal once the bastard is arrested."

Tack's tension deflates immediately. He's afraid of change. Everything shifted so suddenly, and he's afraid our relationship will shift again.

The last few days have been surreal for me, too. When I don't let myself think about the death and chaos on the road, I'm happier than I've been in a long time. I stay busy all day. I love being able to reach out and touch Tack whenever I want. Life is good.

Yet, in the back of my mind, I'm always afraid someone is in the woods watching us. What if I draw danger to the farm and the people who've welcomed me into their community?

Feeling paranoid as we walk from one farmhouse to another, I flinch in reaction to a cracking sound. Tack pauses for a moment, glancing in the direction of the noise.

The sun is nearly set. I feel exposed outside. If a group of men rushed out from the woods right now, they could kill Tack and steal me away before anyone had a chance to react.

Tack takes my hand and starts walking again. We pass Indigo who sits on the porch with the dogs. He doesn't look up from his phone when we pass him.

"The woods are loud tonight," Tack says before shutting the screen door and leaving Indigo to keep watch.

Once Tack and I are finished showering together, we retire to his room. He looks over the security cameras around the farm while I study pictures of the gothic mansion.

"I know this is our house," I announce while admiring the images. "I already see you in the massive garage with your friends. It's air conditioned. You could turn part of it into a mantuary. And the kitchen is gorgeous. I see our friends over for parties," I explain, inspiring Tack to look at the pictures again. "Our kids would attend the same schools as our friends' kids."

"Wouldn't you send them to a private school?"

"Not unless there was a problem with the local school."

Finding something to obsess about, Tack points out the obvious, "But you went to private schools."

"And you didn't."

Tack frowns. "Yeah, and I read like shit and don't know history or science. I can't even name all the continents."

"I feel like that's information you could easily learn now if you wanted."

"Yeah, but what am I going to do with that knowledge?" he mumbles while chuckling at the thought.

"There's a trivia night at a bar Natasha, Siobhan, and I sometimes hit up."

Laughter over, Tack insists, "I'm not doing that."

"Okay, but I think maybe you didn't do well in school because you had bad parents who didn't help you. Then, by the time you arrived at the ranch, you felt so far behind, you just did the bare minimum to get through."

Tack stares at me for a long, tense minute before muttering, "Yeah, I didn't try. So, when my kid asks for help, I won't know the answers."

I slide my hand across his belly and grab his phone resting at his side. "This thing right here has the answers."

"Yeah, but my kids will eventually know I'm a dumbass."

"No, they'll know you aren't good at school stuff." When Tack just frowns at the phone, I ask, "Do you not like the house?"

"I can't imagine me living there."

"Then, we don't need to live there."

"But it's what you want," he says and stares at the picture on my phone. "It's quirky and fancy like you want."

"Bear's house is fancy."

"I guess."

"We don't need to buy this house."

Shifting gears on why he's upset, Tack grumbles, "We aren't buying it. You are."

"Do you want to buy it?"

"I don't have the money saved up for that house."

"Then, let me buy it."

"Whatever," he says, handing back my phone and rolling on his back so he can frown at the ceiling. "I don't know what I want."

Climbing out of bed, I turn off the light and switch on the fan. I return to find Tack literally pouting.

"I like your room, but this space isn't big enough for a nursery."

Tack's lips unpucker, and he glances at me. "Are you sure you want a kid with a guy like me?"

"Are you sure you want a baby with a ginger?"

"I love your hair," he says, turning toward me and kissing my forehead.

"Even if our son ends up with red hair?"

"There's a guy up in the hills with red hair. The chicks fucking love him, and guys don't dare mess with him. It's all good."

"One of the guys in Walla Walla's club has red hair," I reply, thinking of my visit to McMurdo Valley. "Armor was super intimidating when I met him. Handsome, though. Made me feel a little less nervous about having a ginger son. But who knows what our kid will look like. He might be a stone-cold dork."

Tack laughs loudly. "I'd be a terrible father to a nerd."

"No," I murmur and stroke his jaw, "you'd be super protective and make sure he felt good about himself."

The amusement on Tack's face is quickly replaced by a proud little grin. I sense he's recalling how well he does with the boys at the farm. Even when one of them flips out and cusses in his face, Tack never loses his cool. He exudes the same calm as Elvis. I have zero doubt Tack will be a wonderful father after he gets over his nerves.

As I cuddle closer to Tack and say goodnight to a long, stressful day, I can picture my future better. The gothic mansion might scare Tack, but I can already see it filled with our family and friends.