Page 12 of The Huntress and Her Hound

Well, shit.

I really didn’t think it through, and as I stand there outside, I take a deep breath. I can peel back all the layers of the internet, falsify information, methodically plan, and obliterate someone’s online existence.

But I can’t stalk someone on a whim.

I’ll have to come up with some other story for tonight.

I scan the area, my eyes landing on a somewhat seedy lounge just down street. It’s still flashing that it’s open, and as much as I want to go back to the apartment and get some sleep, I don’t get that luxury. Not tonight. The last thing I need is to get caught creeping on Cher. So reluctantly, I make my way across the street and step inside.

A haze of smoke fills the place, but it’s full, even for nearly four in the morning. I rake my fingers through my hair and head toward the bar, ignoring the sketchy patrons. Vegas really is the city that never sleeps–and draws a diverse crowd. There are barely legal college kids, drunk bachelor parties, and then a handful of people you couldn’t pay me to make eye contact with. I slide onto a bar stool, angling my body back toward the apartment building–just in case Cher tries to leave again.

“What can I get you?” a sultry voice says from behind me.

I turn to see a pretty dark-headed woman smiling at me. “I’ll just have a Jack on the Rocks.”

“Hmm, wouldn’t have pegged you as one of those types.” She pops her red lips against each other, amusement flashing across her face. “I figured you’d be a wine kind of guy.”

I fight the urge to roll my eyes, unsurprised by the judgment. “I don’t like wine.”

“I’ll remember that next time.” She giggles obnoxiously and then disappears to make my drink. I stare out into the early morning, wondering if I should sit here long enough to see the sun rise in the Sin City sky, or if I can go back to the apartment before.

The bartender sets my drink down and I hand her my card to pay for it.

“Only going to have one?” She cocks her heart-shaped face to the left. “I figured you’d at least have two.”

“I haven’t made up my mind yet,” I mutter, picking up the drink and downing it in one go. “But you know what... I think I will have another.”

“I like the sound of that.” She gives me a wink that does nothing for me, and quickly makes another—which I also down. I sit until my watch reaches five-thirty, and then I pay my tab.

Time to wander back to the apartment.

As I ride the elevator up to Cher’s place a few minutes later, I double check that I smell like a bar. It’s much easier to have a partial truth to hide beneath if cornered. I tip my head back against the wall and shut my eyes. The two glasses of whiskey have me feeling more tired than ever, and the worst part is, I know I’ll be locked out. I’ll have to call Henry, and then listen to him bitch about my spontaneous late-night outing.

“You should’ve been getting intel,” I hear his voice in my head.

Nope. I followed your sister into a dark alley instead. I chuckle to myself.

However, as I step out of the elevator, the hair on the back of my neck bristles. I glance up and down the hallway of warm gray walls and coordinating dark carpet. No one is there. Alcohol and fatigue are getting to me. Shaking it off, I make my way to the apartment, pulling my phone out of my pocket. Before I dial Henry, I realize there’s no need.

The door is still cracked, my receipts shoved in the opening.

Shit. Did Cher not come home?

I push the door in, and swipe up the paper, shoving it back in my pocket. My gaze sweeps across the entryway and I let the door close fully behind me, wincing as it clicks shut. I make my way toward the hallway, but as I reach the kitchen, I freeze.

Cher sips a glass of water, her lucid blue eyes trained on me. “Did you have a nice outing, Jude?”

Chapter Five

The Huntress

He’s caught like a deer in headlights, and I smile as his hazel-green eyes widen toward me. I set my glass of water down and run my tongue along my bottom lip, inwardly waiting for his eyes to catch and follow it.

But they don’t.

“Why’d you leave my apartment door unlocked?” I ask, opting for the easier question first. Honestly, I’m not sure if he actually followed me. I’m not sure if he even saw me leave, and the attempt to keep the door unlocked was a poor move if he was following me.

“Well, I don’t have a key—and I don’t know the code,” he answers me, his voice calm and cool, almost...amused? “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to call Henry to let me back in.”

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