Page 8 of The Huntress and Her Hound

I return my gaze back to the computer, my eyes landing on a costume party in a couple weeks. “Oh, this looks fun.” It’s at a private location—that I know as a sex club. Perfect. All the pervy assholes will be there.

Cash climbs out of his bed, and nudges my knee, his heavy head pushing me back. His big chocolate-brown eyes focus upward at me, and he lets out a pitiful whine.

I sigh. “Let me guess, you need to go to the bathroom?” His nub of a tail wags. “Okay then, let’s go.” I exit out of the screen and grab his leash. I clip it to his chain collar, which is mostly just for looks. Being a single woman in downtown Vegas has its pitfalls. Especially when poisoning is your go-to weapon.

As I open my bedroom door, I catch the sound of laughter. My stomach recoils with disgust. I hate the sound of men’s laughter. Even my brother’s. But still, I paste on my best fucking smile, and head out into the living room.

Cash bristles.

Good boy.

I pat his head as he remains at my side. We put hours into training. He knows he can get upset, but he can’t jerk on the leash.

Jude and Henry are sitting on the couch. Henry’s eyes are on the TV, watching some kind of stupid sitcom—and Jude’s face is in his laptop, sporting a pair of dark-rimmed glasses. He looks the part of a hacker now.

It’s almost endearing.

Cash lets out a warning bark at the two of them. Henry turns to me cooly, but Jude nearly falls off the couch as he’s startled. I laugh at the dramatic reaction.

“This is my dog, Cash. If he doesn’t approve of you, you can’t stay.”

Henry eyes him, but grins. “Nice to know you’ve finally found someone to prioritize over me.”

“It only took twenty-eight years.”

Jude stays silent, watching Cash with a curious gaze.

“Do dogs make you nervous?” I ask my brother’s best friend, unable to hide the amusement from my voice as my brain conjures up the image of Cash ripping into him. Even if Jude is a puppy, I still like the idea. It’s kind of a turn on—not that I ever get turned on.

Jude raises a brow at me. “No, dogs don’t make me nervous.”

“You look nervous.”

“Never.” He spins back around on the couch and goes back to his computer. And for some reason...

That really fucking annoys me.

“I’m taking him down to the dog park,” I say, lightening my tone. “You guys can come if you want.”

“Do they have a smoking area?” Henry asks, tilting his head.

“Uh, I guess. People smoke out there.”

“You should really quit,” Jude comments, still tapping away at his computer. His eyes are dialed in on the code running across the screen.

“Are you using my Wi-Fi to do that?” I demand, suddenly concerned. “I don’t want the FBI knocking on my door.” Really, I don’t. The last thing I need is eyes on me.

“Nope.” Jude’s answer is short. And once again, he doesn’t look at me when he speaks. “I’ve learned my lesson.”

“Good.” My answer comes out awkwardly sweet, and I wonder if I come across as if I’m trying too hard. Great. Now, I’m annoying myself. “Anyway, I’m going downstairs.”

“I’ll come along.” My brother pushes himself up off the couch, and for some strange reason, there’s a pang of disappointment in my gut. I’m curious about Henry’s puppy-dog friend. All of my brother’s friends in the past were outwardly masculine, commanding attention of their very presence...

But Jude is ignoring me.

And that should be comforting. I pull my eyes from the back of his head and turn to Henry, who’s already heading for the door.

“Enjoy some time with your sister,” Jude calls out to Henry, and I have this strange urge to run up to him and force him to acknowledge me instead of referring to me as though I’m not in the room. However, I hold back. Maybe I’ve gotten so used to sleazy men coming onto me, I forgot that the average sober mind usually pays me no attention at all.

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