Page 94 of Hunt Me, Daddy

“By whom? Hostage negotiators?”

“My brothers. But they were drunk at the time.”

“Same thing, probably.”

Ivan set my bag beside the couch. “Your laptop can go there. That machine is isolated, but you may inspect it first.”

He pointed to a workstation at the end of his desk. There were a computer and keyboard waiting for me. Blank notebook. Mechanical pencil. Coffee coaster.

The coaster was what did it. I stared at it.

“You set up a workspace for me.”

“Yes.”

“That’s presumptuous.”

“Yes.”

“You’re not supposed to agree that fast.”

“You prefer accuracy over comfort.”

My eyes narrowed. “Stop using my own traits against me.”

“Never.”

A small, extremely stupid part of me wanted to smile. I killed it with discipline.

Mostly.

I crossed to the workstation and checked it because no matter how infuriating a man was, an isolated machine still deserved inspection. Ivan didn’t hover. He took off his coat, hung it over the back of a chair, and moved to his own station. I watched him from the corner of my eye as I opened panels, checked ports, verified the boot environment, examined the logs, and generally made sure the machine wasn’t about to quietly betray me.

It was clean.

“Acceptable?” he asked.

“For now.”

“High praise.”

“Don’t get emotional.”

“I’ll try to endure.”

I sat down, but he did not sit immediately.

I looked up. “What?”

“You haven’t eaten.”

I froze.

“You don’t know that.”

“I know you had coffee before leaving your apartment. I know you brought a bag but no food. I know you were up most of the night because you were too angry to sleep and too suspicious to trust me. I know your hands aren’t shaking at all, but you are blinking less than usual, which means you are forcing concentration. You are hungry.”

My fingers curled around the edge of the desk.