"Stanfield ran?"
Hunter leaned back on the sofa, eyebrows rising as he glanced at the newspaper Tali handed him.
Tali moved behind him and obediently began kneading his shoulders.
These past few days Hunter had barely stepped outside.
Staying at Tali's place, the two of them had
tested every usable spot in the tiny apartment, picking out the most comfortable—and thrilling—positions.
With physical attributes triple those of an average man, Hunter had thoroughly conquered the girl.
Though he'd never actually asked her to be his girlfriend,
and Tali, perhaps because of her past, hadn't pressed for any label,
she had quietly accepted her new role as his lover.
"What are you reading?"
Tali asked curiously.
Hunter smiled and lifted the paper so she could see.
The girl was barely sixteen; her experiences had given her a veneer of maturity,
but she was still a teenager, and after a few lines of newsprint she lost interest.
The reason was simple: the Los Angeles Times had devoted pages to the story.
All the reports were about former Senior Detective Inspector Stanfield of the Los Angeles Narcotics Bureau, accused of abusing his authority and trafficking narcotics under the cover of his position.
He extorted drug dealers, handed out bribes on a massive scale, and corrupted his colleagues and superiors in the Drug Enforcement Bureau.
And, just before the FBI could arrest him, Stanfield fled; news reports now say his whereabouts are unknown.
Tali was clearly more interested in entertainment gossip than in any of this.
After only a glance she lost interest, gave a dismissive pout, and went back to massaging him.
Hunter quickly stopped her. "Don't press so hard—you had surgery only yesterday."
"I hired the best surgeon to cut out the tracker inside you; all that's left is a tiny incision."
"But for the next week or two you should still move as little as possible."
Tali had once been a teenage prostitute controlled by the Russian Gang that dominated Boston City.
Earlier, when Hunter was helping Dominic smuggle the loot from their robbery to Boston for delivery,
he happened to run into Tali and ended up rescuing her.
Afterward she came with him to Los Angeles.
However, obtaining new identity papers takes time.
Then Hunter himself came under FBI scrutiny, which caused further delays.
In the end it wasn't until yesterday that he finally took her in for the operation
to remove the miniature tracker the Russian Gang had implanted in her.
Because the wound was on her lower abdomen, he hadn't touched Tali since yesterday.
Yet although the cut still stung,
the nonstop exertion of the past few days had turned the formerly exercise-shy Tali into someone who now craved more.
While pounding his back she kept pressing her body against his.
Those repeated intimacies told Hunter the girl had something on her mind.
But Tali, hearing his warning, simply draped herself over his back.
"So it's a no-go for now?"
"The cut's tiny—it won't get in the way."
Hunter raised an eyebrow; he was tempted himself.
Still, picturing the wound on her abdomen, he smothered the impulse.
"Wait a few more days, or it'll scar."
"If you really can't stand it, play by yourself—but be gentle."
A few days earlier, out of curiosity, he'd bought her some toys.
He hadn't expected her to misread the offer. "All right, then!"
With that she walked around in front of him and slowly knelt.
His weak spot captured, a flicker of surprise crossed his face.
Then he gave a soft grunt and, enjoying himself, went back to his newspaper.
At three in the afternoon Hunter left Tali's apartment.
Stanfield's escape struck him as odd, but he felt it was all for the better.
With the man on the run, the Drug Enforcement Bureau and the FBI could dump the whole mess on him.
The FBI would have to catch Stanfield first if they wanted answers.
For some time to come the Bureau would be chasing him with everything it had.
And Hunter at last slipped free of their surveillance.
After leaving Tali's place he headed to the Los Angeles land exchange.
He planned to buy a farm in or near the city to settle Tali.
Of course, if that nice next-door neighbor Maggie were willing,
his current fortune of hundreds of millions could easily support one more thoroughbred.
As for Mia and Slater, he hadn't yet figured out how to face them.
That was one reason
he hadn't gone to see either Mia or Slater since returning to Los Angeles.
In the liberal atmosphere of America the two were genuine rarities:
they had saved their first time for him, so they naturally held a special place in his heart.
Still, buying a farm in America is simple and complicated at once.
Pick the right piece of land, sign the contract, hand over the money, and it's yours.
The tricky part was keeping the price under a million us dollars,
ideally within a few hundred thousand.
Not because he was stingy, but because land purchases here require disclosure.
Much of Hunter's money is untraceable black cash taken from Steve, Dominic, and Stanfield.
It wouldn't survive an IRS audit.
He had no wish to trade FBI scrutiny for attention from the IRS.
Therefore finding a suitable farm that wasn't too expensive was no easy task.
After spending some time at the land exchange, stating his requirements, and paying a consultancy fee,
he left and waited for the agent to contact him when a suitable farm turned up.
Instead of hurrying back to Tali's apartment he gave himself a quick makeover, changed his hair color, and headed straight for Dominic's place.
In the blink of an eye he had been back in Los Angeles for quite a while.
Missing Mia and Slater was simply impossible.
Hunter planned to visit Mia first and take her shopping along the way.
Judging from the FBI's earlier surveillance, he sensed that Dominic's exposure—and the subsequent escape from Los Angeles, even from the U.S.—was imminent.
Hunter wanted to see if he could persuade Mia to stay when the time came.
After all, Mia had never taken part in any of Dominic's heists.
Hiring a top-tier lawyer for her and convincing the FBI to stop harassing her shouldn't be difficult.
With this pleasant thought, he mounted his bike.
Only when he neared Dominic's place did he discover, to his dismay, that his fantasy had collapsed.
FBI seals were plastered across Dominic's front door.
After a brief shock, Hunter realized what had happened.
Dominic and the crew had already fled.
In that instant, everything clicked.
Why the FBI had suddenly begun monitoring and bugging his home after he returned from Boston City…
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