Page 35 of The Huntress and Her Hound

Cher glares at me, folding her arms across her chest as I slump against the wall. “Why the hell did you show up to my work? Do you know how important this job is for me?”

“Uh, making drinks is a big deal, but...”

“You’re drunk,” she groans, running her fingers through her hair.

“Happens in Vegas a lot, I think,” I reason. “Kind of like Sam Erickson mysteriously dying in his hotel room.”

She freezes, her eyes widening. “What did you just say?”

I bop her on the nose with my finger, taking a step to linger above her. “I know you did something, and I need to know what you did.”

“I didn’t do anything,” she reasons, shaking her head.

I tilt my head, sober enough to see through the shitty lie all over her face. “So, then how did he end up dead right after you left the hotel?”

“I don’t know,” she answers immediately. “He tried to drug me.”

“Yeah, that seems to be his MO. I don’t know why women always go—”

“I didn’t go for him,” Cher explodes, her voice shrill as the doors open, and we’re left with an audience of about eight people waiting to climb on—and giving us a weird look.

“You left with him,” I reason, rolling my eyes and stepping out into the lobby. “You wanted to go home with him.”

“How do you even know that?” she calls from behind me as I push the doors of the lobby open so hard they rattle. “You don’t know that.”

“You’re being very repetitive right now,” I scoff, curling my lip in disgust at the heat still penetrating the night. It’s the only thing getting to penetrate something. I start toward her apartment.

“Jude.” Cher grabs my arm, and I spin, losing my balance and crashing into her. She catches her breath, and I catch myself, shaking my head at my shitty decision making. I’m supposed to be clever and manipulative—out to protect and interrogate the girl.

I got drunk instead, all because my feelings were hurt.

I laugh, running my hands over my face. “You know what, I’ve already changed the footage for you, so whatever happened—if something happened, it’s taken care of. No worries. The asshole deserved it, anyway.” I step away from her, readjusting my game plan. I’m not going back to the apartment. “Good night, Cher.”

Chapter 13

The Huntress

I’ve never been so fucking confused. And as I watch Jude walk away from me, I’m torn. I don’t want him around. But I might murder that blonde woman for just talking to him—and he is pretty fucking drunk right now.

‘He could tattle on you to your brother.’

My shoulders slump, and I let out a groan, spinning on my heels and taking off after him. I mean, I do owe him for covering for me, even though I’ll never admit to what happened with Samuel.

“Why are you following me?” Jude grunts as I fall in step beside him. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Right, okay,” I say carefully. “But maybe you should just go back to the apartment. Vegas isn’t that safe.”

“Yeah, I bet Sam Erickson would agree with that,” Jude drunkenly snorts. “I read there were drugs found at the scene.”

“Where’d you hear that?” I ask, my hands beginning to sweat.

“I have a way of learning a lot of things.” He looks down at me, an eyebrow cocked. “And for the record, it’s not public knowledge.”

“I don’t do drugs,” I tell him, for some reason feeling the urge to convince him of that. “I really don’t.”

“Yeah, you just go home with men you meet in sex clubs.”

My jaw drops. “How much digging have you done into me?”

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