Page 49 of Rugger: The Huntress

“Until we find out, we keep things the way they are. We take no risks. In fact, keep this between you and I.”

“Lips sealed.”

“And, turn your computer around. I don’t know what the hell I’m looking at.”

“I’m not even sure why I tried,” she chuckled, turning the screen toward her again.

“Keep me updated. I want to know more.”

“I will. I promise.”

The ride home felt much swifter than the drive to the bridal shop. I had very little time to settle my thoughts. The information Royce had shared left me with more questions than I’d exit my home with. Now, everything that was happening around me felt intentional.

I pushed through the front door with a hundred thoughts roaming at once. I removed garment after garment as I made my way into the kitchen. The first glass I came across in the cupboard was claimed.

I filled the ice to the midway point of the glass. A slim neck, wide mouth liquor contraption would’ve been more aesthetically pleasing, but I wasn’t here for the aesthetics. I was here for the edge the liquor would take off.

It wasn’t until I made it to the bar that I realized the black bag was still in my hand. Frustrated with even its presence at the moment, I tossed it across the room, hoping it landed on the console that led to the entryway.

Of course.

The bag landed on the narrow surface without flaw. However, it tipped over the black YSL bag that hadn’t moved in days. A crumpled piece of paper and the travel-sized bottle ofRiotboth fell onto the floor. The sound of the small perfume bottle bursting sent a pang through my chest.

Fuck.

The damage had already been done, so I was in no rush to clean up the mess I’d made. Instead, I tried clearing the one in my head with aged olive juice and vodka. Three fresh olives topped off the beverage.

“Mm.”

The anxiousness building in my chest began to subside. I relaxed my spine, curling it slightly as my palm pressed against my countertop while taking a second sip.

“You’re in your head more than you’re here.”

My father spoke loudly and clearly as he reprimanded me. Whether it was a faulty shot I couldn’t make during training or a difficult task around the house.

“Get out of your head, Rugger. But, if you’re going to be there, remind yourself you’re the best to ever do this. You’re the greatest, my love,” he’d preach.

“But, I’m not.”

We both knew it wasn’t true. There was a boy he’d loaned his DNA to that was three times as good as I was growing up.

“And you never will be if you keep telling yourself that.”

“It’s honesty.”

“It’s security. As long as you think you aren’t the best, you’ll only give second to best effort. But, if you approach every opportunity with the mindset of a master, then you will be.”

I smiled, knowing that I needed to take heed to his words even all these years later. Aside from my father, Rather always knew what to say, when to say it, and how to say it. That was the reason I was still hanging onto her words from the night.

“You’re not off your game if that’s what you’re confusing this for. You’re not hunting saints, Rugger. They’re bad men who have pissed off plenty of people. You’re not the only one gunning for them.”

You’re not off your game.

Get out of your head.

You’re a master of the trade.

You’re not hunting saints.

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