Hunter never knew how to answer that question. Did his dad want him to admit it? Or did he want to know Hunter could take care of himself? “Just guys being stupid. School’s almost out anyway, so . . .” He shrugged.

His mother tsked and reached out to put a hand over his.

Hunter pulled his hand away. No matter what his father meant, Hunter hated taking her sympathy in front of him.

“And the girl?” said his dad. “How are things there?” Hunter almost choked on the piece of grilled chicken. “She’s great. Good. She’s good.”

“Girl?” said his mother. “There’s a girl?”

“It’s nothing,” said Hunter. He shoved another piece of chicken into his mouth.

“Learn anything yet?” said his father.

Yes. He’d learned that the world could narrow to a single breathless moment when he was kissing Clare.

He met his father’s gaze head-on. “Not yet.”

“Make sure you’re paying attention.” His father stood to take his plate to the sink and dropped a kiss on his wife’s head. “Thank you for dinner, darling.”

Hunter watched this and wondered about Uncle Jay’s warning last night. It seemed like a direct contradiction to the whole use them before they use you.

Then again, he kept thinking about Clare’s question in front of the gun locker, about the fact that his mom’s birth date wasn’t part of the combination. It was such a minor, inconsequential thing—but it felt like such a big thing when combined with that harsh warning.

His father doted on his mother. Hunter watched it every day. They really were the most unlikely pair—his mom even commented on it to strangers with a laugh. How the die-hard military man had fallen for the New Age neo-Wiccan.

But for the first time, Hunter started to wonder if what looked like doting was really . . . tolerance. Indulgence.

As soon as he had the thought, Hunter shoved it out of his head. They’d been together for seventeen years. They never fought. He’d never questioned their love for each other, because their love for him was an unwavering constant.

But now that he’d considered it, he couldn’t stop thinking it.

A hand rapped at the back door, and Uncle Jay stuck his head in. “Am I late for dinner?”

“There’s plenty left,” said Hunter’s mom.

Jay opened the door fully, and Casper burst into the room, jogging immediately to Hunter, who rubbed the scruff of his neck and slid him chicken from his plate.

“That dog loves you,” said Jay.

Hunter gave Casper another piece. “I love him back.”

Casper sat by his side and put his head in Hunter’s lap.

Jay pulled out a chair and dropped into it. He glanced at his brother. “Did you get more info?”

Hunter’s dad cast a glance at him. “Yeah. We’ll talk upstairs. Later.”

Hunter pretended he didn’t notice. But after dinner was done, he lingered in the kitchen, washing dishes, playing with Casper, giving his dad and uncle time to finish shooting the shit and get down to real business.

Then he crept up the stairs, easing around the step that creaked, holding his breath as he edged as close as he could to his father’s office door.

Their voices were low, and he could only make out a few words, none of which made too much sense.

He eased out a breath, then took another one in. He slid a bit closer.

“Hunter.”

Damn it.

His father’s voice. Hunter didn’t move. Maybe this was a bluff.

Then the door opened. Uncle Jay stood there. “Really, kid?”

Hunter sighed and looked up at him from where he crouched on the floor. “I don’t get what the big deal is. You said it was just surveillance.”

“Come in here,” his father called. He didn’t sound happy.

Hunter shoved to his feet and went to the doorway.

His father was sitting at his desk, two files on the surface in front of him. Both were closed.

“First,” he said, “I’m not happy about the spying.”

“But you never tell me anything! I’m sixteen years old, and—”

“And you’re acting like a teenager. Not yet, Hunter.”

“I can handle it.”

“Like you handled those boys at school?”

Hunter flinched. “I don’t know what that means. What do you want me to do, break their necks? Get expelled? They’re just playing stupid pranks. I can’t exactly kill them for that.”

“What if I told you they would grow up to be criminals? What about then?”

“What about then?” Hunter glanced at Uncle Jay, but there were no answers there. His uncle was leaning against the doorjamb, his arms folded.

His father leaned forward in the desk chair, bracing his arms on his knees. “If I told you they would grow up to be criminals, that they could potentially hurt people, could you kill them then?”

Hunter licked his lips. This felt like a trick question, and the wrong answer wouldn’t be something he could take back.

His father didn’t wait long. He shook his head. “You’re not ready.”

“I’m not ready because I didn’t say I could kill my classmates? You’re not making any sense. What does this have to do with one stupid surveillance job?”

“Sometimes watching leads to action.”

Hunter felt like the right answers kept springing up in front of him; he just couldn’t grasp them quickly enough. “Fine. If it comes to that, I’ll stand back and let you guys do the action part.”