Page 39 of The Huntress and Her Hound

“He can throw a good punch,” Cher says, not looking at me as I stand beside her. “The other guy was in way worse shape.”

Henry grins at me. “Good for you. You need to ice that though.” He nods to my swelling bottom lip.

I glance over to Cher as she lifts her fingers to her own—and then looks irrevocably mortified few seconds.

Great, I fucking grossed her out.

I feel like dog shit on the bottom of a shoe as she wraps her arms around her torso, like she needs to protect herself from the advance I made on her. I squeeze my eyes closed, wishing I’d have done anything but try to kiss Henry’s sister.

“I think I’m going to go to bed,” Cher’s voice is quiet.

“I don’t blame you,” Henry says to her. “And thanks for getting Jude home safe.” He chuckles as the words come out, and Cher smiles.

“Of course.” She eyes me as she passes by, her arm brushing mine. I let the moment go, even though my pride takes a hit. I know Henry doesn’t know about the guy we encountered tonight, and I’ll do my own investigating before I even think about mentioning it to him.

“Here,” Henry hands me an ice pack wrapped in a hand towel. “Maybe it’d be better not getting into any more tiffs. We don’t need to draw attention to ourselves here.”

I press the ice to my mouth and roll my eyes. “Like drunken brawls don’t happen every fucking night in Vegas.”

“Yeah, but we aren’t everyday people,” he chides me.

“I’ll cover the footage up.” I spin on my heels and start to leave, stopping at the threshold of the hallway to glance back at my best friend. “You should probably get some sleep, too. It’s past your bedtime.”

He glares at me. “Don’t stay out with my sister and I won’t have to stay up late.”

I tense my jaw, sending a shooting pain through my busted lip. You don’t even know her. But I keep my mouth shut, ducking out and heading to my room. I don’t want to pick a fight—even if I could.

As I reach my bedroom, I pause, dropping my arm as I see the light glowing underneath Cher’s door. The events of tonight run rampantly through my unsettled mind. What happened to you, Cher? What made you so damn skittish? I take a deep breath and enter my own room, leaving the temptation at the door. I’m sober now, and so I slide into my desk chair. I need to know what happened to her at the law firm.

But the doorknob turning causes me to pause my investigation.

“Dude, go to bed—” I stop as I see my visitor. I expected to see Henry, but instead, Cher steps in. Wearing a loose T-shirt and shorts, her face is devoid of all the cover-up, bruises lining her jaw and dark circles beneath her eyes. I clench the computer mouse, fighting the murderous urge the sight gives me as I wait for her to say something. Her lips part slightly, and I’m on the edge of my seat, apprehension humming in my ears.

“Um,” Cher finally murmurs. “Can you not tell Henry about the guy we saw tonight?”

Of course, more secrets for me to keep.

But I nod. “Sure. I wasn’t going to.”

She bites down on her lower lip, wringing her hands in front of her body. “Can I... Can I tell you something?”

She’s trusting you. Take the bait.

“Of course.” I lean away from the computer and rest against the back of the chair, placing my elbows on the armrests.

“That guy that we ran into today...I used to work with him at the law firm in Washington.” Her tone is difficult to read, and while this is knowledge I already put together, I bob my head in understanding. “I got a job at that firm as soon as I passed my bar exam—and he did, too. We were in the same graduating class.”

“And so you were friends?” I throw the question out there, mostly because jealousy is rearing its ugly head inside me right now.

“I guess...” Cher frowns, and then shakes her head. “No, we weren’t friends. We weren’t anything. I stay away from, um—we just didn’t get along.” She teeters back on her heels, her body wracked with visible nerves.

“You don’t have to worry about me telling anyone about whatever is said in this room,” I reassure her as emotions shift in my chest. There’s a heaviness in the way that her eyes are darkening, and I’ve seen it before in the faces of the battered...But Cher’s face lightens suddenly.

“He was a creep, and he was constantly trying to come onto me,” Cher says, her tone losing some of the softness it had before. “He was flirting with me one morning, and that’s when he went to touch me. I just reacted and I grabbed the glass paperweight on my desk. I hit him.”

I don’t react with anything other than a slight nod. Something is missing from what she’s saying. “So he startled you?”

Cher hesitates. “Um, yeah. I tried to explain to my boss at the time that it could’ve been sexual harassment, but Ben kept saying otherwise. He fired us both and said we didn’t belong in law. He wouldn’t recommend us due to us both deserving charges—and my career was ruined. So was Ben’s. That’s why he hates me.”

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