Page 10 of Dozer

“Yes,” Hunter tells me. “The sooner the better.”

The practical side of my wardrobe lives on one side. I have a collection from working at the Department of Defense. Combat boots, cargo pants and field jackets. Clothes I've accumulated from years of government work that occasionally required crawling through warehouses, abandoned buildings, and one memorable swamp I'd rather not revisit.

The artistic side occupies the other.

Graphic tees, my favorite paint-splattered jeans, and colorful flowing cardigans. A pair of bright purple Converse I bought because they make me smile. I eye the collection.

"Question."

Hunter makes a quiet sound of acknowledgment.

"How undercover are we talking?"

"Why?"

"I'm trying to determine whether the dinosaur T-shirt sends the wrong message."

"It absolutely sends the wrong message."

"It says I'm approachable."

"It says you're twelve."

"It says velociraptors are misunderstood."

"They're extinct."

"So are fax machines, and somehow people still use those."

Hunter sighs. "I missed this."

"You missed arguing with me?" I ask.

"I missed knowing you were okay."

The teasing smile slips from my face; I’m sure he hadn't meant to say that out loud… Or maybe he had. Hunter isn't a man who wastes words.

"I've been okay," I say quietly.

"You’ve been surviving." He knows the difference between surviving and living. He also knows I won't admit I've spent the better part of the last month hiding behind freelance work and computer screens because figuring out who I am without a government badge feels harder than I expected.

"You ready for the address for tomorrow morning?" he asks.

I nod before remembering he can't see me. "Hit me."

He gives me an industrial address on the outskirts of Charlotte. This is not Spartan Elite headquarters.

Interesting. I commit it to memory before he finishes speaking.

"I'll text it, too."

"I’ve got it."

"In case you start thinking about something else halfway to the truck."

"That's happened one time, Hunter."

"Kenzi." Hunter laughs. I smile so hard my cheeks hurt.