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Hunter trailed the ambulance to the hospital, his mind buzzing a million miles per second. He had not believed Jakobie when he had called to say Bethany was in danger, and if it had not been for those other men, the ones whose involvement was obviously strategic and intentional, she may well be dead.

There was so much he did not understand. Bethany had been told by the FBI to go to New York, where she had then what? Fallen in love with Trenton McDermott, right? Or was that not even correct? And what about Markob Jakobie? What part did he play in all of this? What about Amanda? How much more than he did she know?

He groaned as he climbed out of the taxi, almost forgetting his guitar. He approached the hospital cautiously, uncertain if he would be welcome in Bethany's room. He was confident she would survive the relatively minor wound she had sustained, at least physically. What he needed now was not an encounter with her; what he needed was answers, and he set off to find someone who could answer a few of his questions.

He stumbled around the hospital wing, looking for someone with a familiar face. He saw the man who had stopped him at the crime scene exiting the bathroom from down the hallway, and he threw his guitar strap over his shoulder and paced forward quickly.

"Ah, Hunter," the man said, patting him on the shoulder and smiling as though it was a normal day. "Just the man I was hoping to see. I imagine you would like to ask me some questions. Let's go somewhere more private, eh?"

Hunter fizzled, all the fire he had been reserving for his confrontation with this man suddenly having nowhere to land. Instead, he followed the tall, skinny man into an unoccupied room with two identical beds resting quietly. Hunter came in and sat on one as the man took the other, and the beds sighed as if in relief that they were no longer alone.

"My name is Rory."

Hunter stopped inspecting the corners of the room and focused. Rory, he had said.

"Hunter," he replied curtly.

Rory laughed. "I know." He folded his hands and leaned forward, pressing his two pointer fingers against his lips. "What can I help you understand, Hunter?"

Hunter straightened his back and laid his guitar on the bed beside him.

"Well, why don't we start with who you're working for?"

Rory nodded. "I work with the FBI. Twenty years, seventy-three cases, all successes."

One blonde brow raised skeptically, but Hunter did not question the man's record. "What was the mission this time?"

He asked the question, though Bethany had already told him the answer before his departure. Was he protecting Bethany, or was he doubting her story? He did not have time to puzzle over that thought, as Rory answered swiftly.

"To find enough evidence of Trenton's crimes to incarcerate him. We have been trying to get him for years, but were never able to indict him due to lack of legitimate proof. Bethany proved to be a very useful tool; we now have all we need to arrest and put him away for life."

"Why Bethany?"

Rory sighed. "Bethany had worked with Trenton before. He had a bit of a crush on her from the beginning, but it got progressively worse as time went on. It became sort of a game for Trenton, pursuing her. He failed to get what he wanted before she left the first time, but we knew he kept up with her movements. And yours, Hunter.

What You Don't Know (Sequel to "Secret Love")(Hunter Hayes/James Marsden)Onde histórias criam vida. Descubra agora