Page 74 of Hunted: Season Two

“Remind me to get your number before I bounceskies,” Samson grunts, glare sweeping over whatever bullshit he’s been dealt.

That tiny nose sneer is the one he always makes when he’s got a shit hand.

Most of these men have easy fucking tells to read.

At the rate they’re losing cash, I’m gonna be about to put our little man through fucking college before he’s even born.

“You ever tasked with doin’ darker shit?” I inch my cards into my possession. “Shit like examining…unwillingpatients or sedating them or providing shit for them tobesedated or controlled or trafficked?”

“That shit took an unexpected turn,” Samson murmurs under his breath.

“Ace knows you can’t disclose patient information,” Garcia smoothly steps in to assist, “so, everything he’s asking is…purelyspeculative.”

“Hypothetical,” Zero echoes.

It’s not.

Not really.

He might’ve been the one supplying McAdam’s with the drugs that kept Rabbit fucked up – after all he spends a shit ton of time in Florida – or if it wasn’t him then maybe he knows someone who did.

He said it himself.

He knows where to redirect his clients to fulfill those types of orders.

Hans doesn’t answer.

He simply has another sip.

Scans his cards.

Sips again.

Lets time fucking cease to move until he realizes the game won’t continue until I get the information I want.

“Yes,” the dark-haired individual slowly begins, “I do dabble in what a portion of society would consider unacceptable practices, butIdonotengage in the activities you are inquiring about.” Our eyes finally lock once more. “However, for the right price, I can most certainly put you in contact with sources that do.”

Chapter 15

Bunny

The tip of the red ink pen stops scrawling across my inner forearm when I look up at Kipp. “Don’t you think it’s a littletoo soonto be talking about baby names, Kid?”

“No,” he counters without hesitation, dirty mechanic rag being tossed over one shoulder. “I wanted to talk about them on day one.”

It’s impossible not to girlishly grin. “I remember.”

Getting unexpectedly knocked up and then having your back blown out in celebration isn’t exactly something you forget.

And neither is trying to sleep while the two men you love most in life are arguing about all things unborn child related.

Such as where should its room be in the new floorplan?

How close could it be to ours?

How far?

Its first word.