Page 6 of The Huntress and Her Hound

Security, addresses, acquaintances, work schedule, digital habits, family...

My mind starts mentally preparing for my online excursion, and while it takes a lot of brain work, it’s better than mopping up guts from the floor or trying to make sure the correct artery is punctured in a stabbing. I prefer the invisible game–the cunning, creepy kind. I can be in your home, watching your every move...without actually being there.

And that’s much more terrifying to me.

“Here,” Henry announces as he turns into the parking garage. “I forgot how fucking luxurious this place is. I don’t know why she’d want to live somewhere else.”

“I imagine it’s a pain in the ass to ride down sixty floors every time your dog needs to take a shit.”

“This place has a pet park,” Henry chuckles. “It can’t be that bad.”

“To each their own.” I open the car door as soon as he cuts the engine and then walk around to the back hatch. “But you better help me carry all this stuff.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he laughs, climbing out.

We split the load of luggage and make our way toward the entrance. Henry gives the doorman Cher’s apartment number, and he makes the call up to her. And with that, we’re let in. Freakishly easy. Anyone could do it.

I cross the elegant lobby without any amazement or intrigue. I’ve lived in the world of the rich and famous for most of my life, and then found that when I was forced out of it, I was much happier. Being wealthy does nothing for happiness or fulfillment. Sure, you can buy whatever the fuck you want, and with a deep pocket, everyone might want to be your friend...

But they’re not really your friend. When shit hits the fan, they leave you to fend for yourself.

The elevator doors slide closed, and my shoulder aches from the weight of the computers in the bag. I’ve been hitting the gym for a solid year now, trying to feel less like a loser. Yet here I am, the weight of my own gear wearing me down. It’s hard to be surrounded by ruthless killers and not feel like a fucking dweeb. The only people I kill are in my dreams, and even then, I usually end up dead first.

“Almost there,” Henry mumbles as the doors slide open on the sixty-seventh floor. I follow him out, lugging my shit and watching Henry do the same.

Maybe it’s heavy for him, too.

When we reach apartment 6703, Henry rings the doorbell outside and the two of us wait. My stomach does a strange flip flop, but I ignore it. I’ve never been the most extroverted guy, but I’ve learned to manage my social anxiety, especially since having to keep an eye on Elizabeth. And on the rare occasion, sometimes getting into systems means putting in a little footwork.

The door swinging open draws my attention from my thoughts, and I catch myself staring right into the eyes of Henry—only icier.

Holy fuck. She’s…stunning.

Cher’s raven hair falls to her shoulders, and her pale skin doesn’t align with the typical desert tan. Tattoos line her skin, her chest bearing some sort of decadent Viking style scroll. Her black crop top shows off her also-inked midriff, but I don’t stare long enough to make them out. The glance from me is fleeting. I pull my eyes away, terrified of what lustful thoughts might come with it.

I will not eye-fuck Henry’s sister. I will not eye-fuck Henry’s sister.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Cher steps to the side and gestures for us to enter. Her eyes dart back to mine, but the meeting is brief—just enough to leave me gasping for breath. This woman looks like Henry...

But also nothing like him.

“This is Jude,” Henry motions to me.

“I can put it together.” She gives her brother a sweet smile and then looks back at me. “I’ve looked you up, you know. You landed yourself a hefty prison sentence after targeting the CIA. You got out on good behavior. I found that intriguing.”

“Mmm,” is all I can manage. I swallow hard as her gaze rolls over me, landing on my beat-up Converse. She stares at my shoes, as if there’s something wrong with them, and then lifts her head.

“I’ll show you your rooms.” She leads us through a decadent living room and kitchen. “Cash is locked in my bedroom for now. I’ll introduce him after the two of you get settled. He doesn’t like strangers.” Cher glances back at us, her eyes only landing on Henry this time.

And for some reason, that makes me…jealous.

I blow out a breath and focus on following her—not staring at her ass clad in a pair of black leggings. This woman is petite, but her curves are anything but. My mind flashes to an image of her on her knees in front of me, those hips resting on her heels as she opens her mouth...

Nope. Nope. Nope.

The last thing I need to do is fantasize about my best friend’s sister, especially considering we’re still a little tense given the past. I need to stay on good terms. I need to not indulge in even the smallest of betrayals.

“You can stay here,” Cher opens a door while speaking to Henry. “Jude will need the bigger room for all his...stuff.” She eyes my bags.

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