Page 84 of Beware of Dog

“No.” Kat slid the folder over. “Cassandra Green is.”

Shep snatched the folder and flipped it open, already knowing what he’d find, but not knowing how badly it would rattle him.

The first photo was of Cass climbing off the back of his bike in front of her school building, his colors on display, her face unmistakeable.

The next photo was taken just moments after the first, Cass’s small hand on his shoulder as she leaned in to kiss him.

Next was the two of them at the bodega down the block from the apartment: going in with their arms linked, coming out with his free hand jammed in her back pocket, her head tipped back as she laughed up at something he’d said with a look of complete delight on her cute face.

There were more. Dozens. Holding hands, or his arm around her, or them kissing. None of it was X-rated, but it was unmistakeable all the same: Cass waswithhim. Anyone trying to dig up dirt on her would know exactly who she was sleeping with.

The last photo was one he wanted to keep…and also to tear into a thousand pieces. His hand on her face, thumb at the corner of her mouth, in the moment just before they kissed. Her eyes were huge, and blue, and beautiful, her face soft with want, with affection. If he’d ever doubted, and he didn’t any more, that she adored him, that photo left no doubt.

When he blinked, and examined it from an outside perspective, he saw a grown-ass man laying hands on a girl with her whole life ahead of her, and he snapped the folder shut with a curse.

“Who hired you? A guy named Blackmon?”

Kat nodded. When he nudged his glass forward in offering, Shep snatched it up and drained it.

“Fuck, I hate vodka. What did he ask for? Proof she’s, what, associated with the Dogs?”

“He wants to know what sort of illegal activity she’s caught up in, if any. Obviously, I didn’t catch any of that on film. But.” He tilted his head, gaze still unreadable, but shrewd all the same. “I’m guessing the rest of the family doesn’t know you two are fooling around.”

“I’m not fuckingfooling around,” he growled, incensed. “Fuck you.” He gathered himself to stand.

Kat stayed him with a hand. “I’m not judging, okay? Calm down.”

“Youfucking calm down. I’m—” Shit, he was out of breath.

Kat said, “Obviously, I’m not going to pass any of that on to Blackmon. In a couple days, I’ll return his money and tell him I couldn’t find anything.”

“He’ll hire someone else,” Shep said, realizing.

“Yeah. I’ve bought you some time. You need to be careful going forward. Tell Cassandra to be careful. I don’t know what he wants—”

“I do,” Shep said, grimly, and tightened his hands into fists until his knuckles cracked.

Kat nodded. “Okay. Keep that.” He gestured to the folder. “And good luck.”

“Thanks,” Shep muttered, and slid out of the booth. He paused, though, and turned to Kat, and said, sincerely, “Thank you.”

Kat nodded again, and reached for his empty glass.

Twenty-Three

“Miss Blake?” the receptionist said as she opened the office door. “Mr. Shepherd here to see you, ma’am.” That was nevernotgoing to be weird.

Raven’s office was larger than most studio apartments in the city, with its own kitchen and sitting room, and a killer corner view through floor-to-ceiling windows. Today, she was seated on the sofa, rather than behind her desk, carefully looking through bright photos of dresses on stick-thin models. In some ways it was difficult to picture Cass doing this, but in others it wasn’t: she would be dressed differently, would be seated cross-legged on the floor and listening to obnoxious music, but she pored over her craft with the same meticulous dedication as her sister.

Raven lifted her head and blinked at him in surprise, fingers poised over slick photo paper. “Shep? Did we have an appointment? Oh, God.” Worry touched her face. “Is Cass alright?”

“She’s fine,” he assured, patting the air with his hands. “And nah, we didn’t have an appointment.”

“Oh.” She sat back, and crossed her legs, miles-long in a pencil skirt and simple but elegant slingbacks.

It was funny: the first time he’d met her, he’d thoughtwow, because she was the sort of traffic-stopping beautiful that couldn’t be ignored. She lookedexpensive, sleek and perfectly-groomed and dolled up to a professional degree. Any man in any bar in the world would have hit on her, despite the high likelihood of rejection.

Butwowwas, at this stage in his life, a familiar and unremarkable sensation. Women were pretty; some wereprettier than others; sometimes they dug his broken nose and his rough voice and his bold come-ons.Wowwas about getting his dick wet.

---