Page 15 of The Huntress and Her Hound

I squeeze Cash tighter. Stop. Please make it stop.

‘You think I didn’t notice how low-cut that shirt is? Let me show you what a man’s attention is supposed to feel like.’

‘Don’t you want that recommendation? Bend over.’

‘You don’t really want me to stop. You’re only crying because it feels so good.’

‘It’s probably best you keep this between us. You don’t want me to get fired, do you? That would ruin my life—and yours. What would your brother think?’

I gasp for ragged breaths, muffled by Cash. There’s only one way to silence the taunting in my head...

And I’ll have to figure out how to make it work.

Chapter Six

The Hound

I stare at the book on the counter. Untouched. Unmoved. I can’t help but reach for it again with my free hand as I take another sip of coffee. I flip through it, and then release it, leaning back against the light gray cabinets.

There’s more to this. I know it.

“You getting into romance novels now?” Henry jokes as he enters the kitchen, his phone in his hand. I’m sure he’s texting Lydia. He’s always fucking texting Lydia.

“Think I’ll just stick to reading people’s medical records,” I say flatly, my eyes shifting toward the wall of windows. I take in the Vegas mid-day skyline. Last night—well, early this morning—is still burned in my brain for reasons I don’t understand entirely. Something shifted in Cher at the end of our conversation, and I don’t know if she was embarrassed, or if there’s something else entirely going on with her.

But I intend to find out.

Just with a lot more precautions in place.

“Did you manage to get anything on Jaxton Banks?” Henry goes for the coffee machine, pouring his own cup and taking a sip. “I’m thinking about a stakeout tonight.”

“Yeah, I got some,” I answer him, shoving Cher into a box in my mind and closing the lid...for now. I try to stretch out what little I know about Jaxton to sound like I spent a lot more time on it than I did. “The target works a lot, has a clean bill of health, and keeps to himself most of the time. His finance firm is only about a mile from here, actually. I don’t know what he does in his free time.”

“Any close associates?”

“Uh,” I hesitate. “Haven’t got to that yet.”

“Hmm. Maybe we should do it old school? Do more physical staking out this time? It could be fun to change things up a little.” Henry shoots me a dangerous grin.

“Sounds like a good way to fuck up,” I mutter. “But then again, it might get us out of here sooner. I like that idea.” Kind of.

“That, or it gives us a chance to have more fun,” Henry reasons. “I’ve already talked to Lydia, and she said she can come here and visit for a while after they finish up in Florida.”

“Great.” I sip more bitter liquid.

“So sincere,” he snorts, but then pauses as a raven-haired mess of a woman steps into the kitchen. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks.” Cher slaps a smile on her face. “Right back at you.” She doesn’t even give me a passing glance as she makes her way to the coffee machine, reaching into the cabinet. I take in the oversized T-shirt and shorts, her pale bare legs beckoning me to stare a few beats longer. I roll my gaze up the back of her thighs to her ass, clad in a pair of loose shorts. I swallow my coffee and look away.

“You took my mug.” Cher’s voice comes out terse, and I’m met with an icy, hateful glare—though it’s focused on my chin rather than my eyes.

I glance down at the entirely plain, black coffee cup in my hand. “This?”

“Yeah, that.”

“It’s just a coffee cup,” Henry interjects. “No reason to—”

“It’s the one I always use,” Cher cuts him off and takes a step toward me. However, she still won’t meet my gaze head on as she holds out her hand. Henry bursts into laughter.

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