Chapter 16
Addison
“What… is that?”
Hunter stood in the doorway of my tiny apartment, hands in her pockets, her expression oscillating between mild amusement and genuine horror as she gazed at the monstrosity of sticky notes and newspaper clippings on the wall behind me.
The living room was a disaster zone of papers, photos, the occasional mug of coffee, and on the wall; evidence – all connected with red string in what could only be described as an ode to shitty detective shows. I’d gone all out – multiple strings crossing one another in a tangled web, each one connecting potential leads to names, dates, and places. I knew it was a little over the top, but hell, it helped me visualize everything, and it was better than sitting around biting my nails as the overwhelming guilt and anxiety ate me alive.
“Disregard the obvious mental illness at play here and pay attention.” I jabbed a finger at the board, pointing to a blurry photo of the missing patient I’d recently learned of. “So, see this guy? Broke his wrist, went to the hospital, vanished into thin air. His visitor – a mystery woman the police never tracked down.”
“Sounds familiar,” Hunter murmured, scanning the strings I’d meticulously mapped out with obvious amusement and a sprinkle of concern for my sanity. “Think it’s Cathy?”
I nodded, chewing my bottom lip. “It could be. I mean, she’s currently the only connection we’ve got that’s probable. But–” I dragged the red string further along the board to a different photo. “I’ve been doing some digging, and we’ve got a couple more disappearances like this guy. Same pattern. Regular person, someone not many would miss, gone without a trace after being spotted with an odd, beautiful woman.”
Hunter hummed thoughtfully, loping across the living room to inspect the tangled mess I’d made. “You’ve got more patience than I do. Doesn’t all this hypothesizing make your brain hurt?”
“No,” I muttered, bending to snag a stray note and pinning it to the wall. “This is how my brain works.”
Hunter chuckled, low and warm, and it sent a flutter through my chest that I tried my best to ignore. It didn’t help that I’d been up all night, strategizing, “hypothesizing ” , and thinking about her mouth on mine.
My lips still burned at the memory of that kiss, like a blazing brand on my skin.
It took a moment too long to realize I was staring at her, at her lips, turned down at the corners as she scrutinized my evidence wall. It took a moment longer to sheepishly tear my eyes away when she caught me looking.
“So...” Hunter dragged the word out after an agonizingly awkward beat. “Just out of curiosity. Do you ever take a break?”
I blinked at her, not quite dumbfounded but something close. She seemed disinclined to acknowledge the elephant in the room – the kiss that still lingered in the back of my mind, no matter how hard I tried to shake it off. But if Hunter wasn’t going to bring it up, then I wasn’t about to, either.
“I don’t have time for breaks. Penelope needs me.” My voice cracked slightly, and I cleared my throat, willing the knot in my chest to ease. “I can’t afford to stop.”
Penelope’s disappearance was the only thing that mattered. I couldn’t afford to be distracted, especially not by something as... complicated, as Hunter. She’d helped me a lot, true, but getting emotionally tangled with her was bound to lead me down a road I couldn’t risk traveling.
Still, no matter what I told myself, the way she acted like our wild few minutes together didn’t happen at all left a small pang of hurt in my chest. I tried to ignore the sting, to remind myself that Hunter wasn’t exactly a woman who wore her emotions on her sleeve.
“Anyway,” I turned my attention back to the wall, forcing a steady tone, “enough about me and my coping mechanisms. Let’s stay focused.”
Hunter dutifully straightened up, striding to stand at my shoulder and observe the wall alongside me, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Good plan.”
So that was that. We were both choosing to pretend it hadn’t happened. Fine.
Hunter and I sifted through every little detail of my detective wall for the rest of the day – every piece traced along the finest thread to the next possible conclusion, each possibility that felt maddeningly close yet frustratingly intangible. With the pile of newspaper clippings and printed photos around us, we were wading through a sea of dead ends and near-misses.
And all the while, the unspoken tension between us hummed in the quiet moments, like a wire pulled taut, ready to snap. We never mentioned the kiss, but it lingered, heavy in the air between us. I felt it every time she stepped close, every time her shoulder brushed mine. When she moved behind me to add a note to the wall I could feel the heat of her at my back, close enough to make my heart stutter.
I tried to focus on the job in front of me. But there was another thought echoing in the back of my mind, the section reserved just for Hunter. It occurred to me how natural it felt being with her, like I didn’t have to put on a mask or pretend to be anything other than myself. And that was... terrifying. I hadn’t realized how isolated I was until I met her. Now every brush of her hand felt like fire under my skin.
We worked until sundown, the light outside dimming to a soft glow. It was Hunter who eventually called it quits, groaning as she slid to the floor with her knees poking skywards.
“Addison, while your commitment to the haunted detective bit is impressive,” she reached up to tug on my jeans, coaxing me to join her on the floor among the rubble of discarded paper trails, “are you certain all of these disappearances are important, or is wishful thinking driving your theories?”
“I can’t prove it,” I swatted her hand away, gnawing on my bottom lip like it was going out of fashion, “but I know it’s all connected. It has to be.”
I expected a sarcastic comment, but when only silence followed I glanced down at her. Hunter was staring at me from her sprawled position on the floor, chin tilted to meet my gaze and serious in a way that seemed rare for her.
“You really care about her, huh? Penelope.” She said it in that knowing, gentle way that made it hard to look at her directly.
I took a shaky breath, the familiar ache of guilt rising in my chest as I stared, unseeing, at the wall of paper, pins, and red strings in front of me.
“Yeah. Of course I care about her. She’s my sister.” The words felt hollow against the storm of regret brewing inside and I finally relinquished my desperate search, sliding to my knees beside her. “I just didn’t care enough – not until it was too late.”
Hunter tilted her head, her gaze steady, waiting.
Under the scrutiny of her patient eyes, I swallowed against the lump in my throat, drawing my knees to my chin. “Before Penelope disappeared, I was... different.”
“Different as in, donning scrubs instead of stilettos?”
“No – well, yes – but there’s more.” I rolled my eyes, but I was grateful for her lighthearted commentary. She had a way of making major problems seem manageable, like nothing was too overwhelming to bear when she was by my side.
“I was a doctor – a surgeon – and I worked hard to get there. My job was my life, it was all I focused on.” I propped my chin on my knees, mumbling the words like saying them with confidence would expose my transgressions. “I didn’t leave much room for Penelope or anyone else, really.”
The memories were jagged and raw, glass shards in my heart, each one delivering a spike of regret I hadn’t allowed myself to fully confront. “The times I did check in with her, I could tell she was struggling. Addiction, bad friends, worse boyfriends… but I didn’t know how bad it was. I didn’t want to know, I think.”
Hunter stayed silent, listening. Those unblinking eyes were fixed on me, putting together the many mismatched pieces that made up one Addison Moore. I felt exposed, vulnerable, but her presence was steadying, like an anchor holding me down as I let the guilt spill out.
“If I’d been there for her, really been there...” My voice cracked and I looked away, tearing up a stray piece of newspaper at my feet. “Maybe she wouldn’t have ended up in this mess. Maybe she’d still be safe.”
Hunter hauled herself upright, balancing her elbows on her knees as she waited for me to look at her. “You’re not responsible for what happened to her, Addison.”
When I dropped my eyes again, Hunter scooted closer. She pinched my chin between her fingers, tilting my face toward her, and I reluctantly met her gaze. Her voice was soft, but steady as always, firm beneath the surface with a reassurance I didn’t know I needed. “Penelope is an adult. She made her choices, just like you made yours.”
I shook my head, all of those missed opportunities tumbling around in my skull.
“Maybe,” I muttered, though the guilt didn’t ease. “I just… can’t stop thinking I could have done something different.”
Hunter’s hand rested on my knee for a brief moment, simultaneously grounding me and lifting me from my morbid inner turmoil. “It’s not your fault, Addison.”
“Maybe.” I forced a small smile. And, in an attempt to lighten the mood, I redirected the conversation, eager to move on from my never ending guilt and regret.
“But enough about me. What about you? It’s obvious your job is your whole world too.” I took a sip of my now-cold coffee, grimacing. “You can’t tell me you don’t live at your office. All evidence points to the contrary.”
Hunter let out a laugh, and the sound was a welcome break from the heaviness that hung between us. “What can I say? Sales doesn’t leave much room for... anything else.”
When it was clear I was expecting more and ready to wait for it, coffee cup balanced on my knee, Hunter sighed. She settled back against the wall, crossing her legs in a relaxed sprawl. “My coworkers – they’re my world, really. We’re a little team. Dysfunctional, probably, but it works.”
This was a change in topic I could get behind. Learning more about my mysterious detective partner couldn’t hurt. I settled in, tucking my legs beneath me as I brought the cup to my lips. “And your coworkers are…?”
“Jordan, Maxine, River… Dylan, when she’s not too busy being an elusive asshole.” Hunter was surprisingly happy to share, tone softening with each name. There was a fondness creeping into her words that made me smile.
I sipped my bitter coffee, eager to learn more now that she was suddenly open to sharing personal tidbits. “They sound interesting.”
“Oh no, they’re ridiculous.” Hunter cackled, turning her eyes to the ceiling and running a hand through her tousled locks. “Jordan runs things with a terrifying level of enthusiasm, Maxine’s in everyone’s business. Dylan’s got this whole tortured soul thing going on – only recently absolved now that she’s got herself hitched, and River...”
She paused, grinning at some inside joke I wasn’t privy to. “River’s the wildcard. She’s got a habit of getting everyone into trouble and playing it off like it was an accident.”
The image of this close-knit, chaotic group of friends was oddly endearing, especially given how fiercely private Hunter seemed. Seeing her talk about them, relaxed and unguarded, felt like a glimpse into a side of her that she rarely showed.
“Wait, I’ve heard of Jordan.” I brushed a stray strand of hair behind my ear, leaning back against the coffee table. “Jordan Lane, she owns the High Stakes enterprise. She’s your boss, right?”
Hunter shrugged, rueful smile tugging at her lips. “Something like that. Although she’s not exactly your typical corporate big shot. When I first met her, I thought she was cracked. Then I got to know her and I realized that’s just her personality.”
I cocked my head, taking in the easy way she spoke, the flippant flourish of her hands as she talked. There was a fondness there, a familiarity stronger than simply a relationship between boss and employee. They were friends, family even.
I shifted position, getting comfortable as I fished for more. “How exactly did you end up working at High Stakes, anyway?”
Hunter fell silent for a moment, like she was debating how much to share. I wanted to keep probing, keep her talking. Every divulgence was another small piece of the puzzle that was Hunter, and I wanted the full picture.
Hunter must have read it in my expression because she smirked, nudging me with the toe of her shoe. “Well done, you got me rambling. But you’ve got to let me keep some of my mystique intact. Let’s just say Jordan was in the right place at the right time and offered me an opportunity I couldn’t refuse.”
“Fine, fine.” I sighed with exaggerated resignation. “Anyway – a job in sales makes sense for you. With a smile like yours, you could have anyone eating out of your hand.”
For a split second Hunter faltered. Just for a moment, her smile slipped, replaced by something I couldn’t quite place.
“It’s not the smile that does it.”
She said it quietly, and I recognized that distant melancholy I’d seen from her back at the spa.
I opened my mouth to ask what she meant, but before I could get the words out Hunter turned her eyes back to the ceiling, not-so-subtly changing the subject. “You know your roof is leaking, right? I guess Micere can’t compete with a surgeon’s paycheck.”
I knew a deflection when I saw one, but I also knew when to let sleeping dogs lie.
“Micere barely pays well enough to keep the lights on.” I shrugged, draining the last of my coffee and sinking into a slump. “You’d think such a swanky establishment would pay their performers better.”
Hunter shot me a wry smile, hair falling over her eyes. “I guess I’ll have to sign up for a few more private sessions then. Whatever helps you pay the bills.”
I shot her a sneering smirk of my own, but something fluttered in the pit of my stomach at her subtle flirting.
What was supposed to be a serious sleuthing session had, somehow, turned into what felt suspiciously like hanging out. Not that I was complaining – having Hunter around made everything easier to manage, even if she seemed to spend most of her time humoring me. I was about to suggest ordering takeout when my phone buzzed on the coffee table.
I hauled myself to my knees and reached for it, glancing at the screen.
Ethan’s name lit up. I answered quickly. “Hey, everything all right?”
“Get your ass to Micere, now .” Ethan’s voice burst through the speaker, flustered and urgent. “That woman – big glasses, weird vibes – the one from the video footage. She showed up at the club not ten minutes ago. How soon can you get here?”
Adrenaline shot through me, sharp and poignant. I glanced at Hunter, who was already on her feet, yanking on her jacket and ready to move.
“We’re on our way.”
The club was packed when we arrived, the thumping bass vibrating through the walls as we slipped inside. Ethan was waiting near the back entrance, looking simultaneously high-strung and suspicious as Hunter and I approached.
“Nice of you to show,” he muttered, eyeing Hunter warily. “Let me guess – you’re here to... help .”
“Don’t start,” I warned, steering both of them deeper into the club. “We’re here for Cathy… or whoever the hell she is.”
Ethan snorted but didn’t argue, which was as close to cooperation as I’d get from him.
“She’s over by the VIP area.” He gestured to the secluded section to the left of the stage and I squinted at the undulating crowd of figures illuminated in the dim light.
We edged closer, weaving through the throng of dancers.
The VIP area of the club was a world of its own, a stark contrast to the chaos of the main floor, with fancy leather sofas arranged in intimate clusters under the glow of blue neon lights. Hunter and I edged into the space, and my eyes immediately landed on the woman we were searching for.
The woman I had watched over and over again through the grainy pixels of the club’s camera footage.
She was tall, statuesque, with sharp cheekbones and dark sunglasses that seemed wildly out of place indoors. She sat near the back, alongside an equally tall man. Their demeanor was calm, almost disinterested in the revelry around them. While the rest of the room buzzed with activity, the pair at the back seemed detached, lips moving languidly as they spoke, like the rest of the club barely registered.
I noticed the woman’s eyes kept darting toward the stage, her expression unreadable but focused, like she was waiting for someone specific.
Hunter and I exchanged a glance. Ethan sidled up next to us, wary expression firmly in place.
“What’s the plan?” he muttered, barely audible over the thumping bass.
Hunter’s lips curled into a smirk. “We get closer, try to hear what she’s saying.” Her gaze slid to me and her troubling smile grew wider. “But we’ll need to blend in.”
“Blend in how?” I whispered, though I had a sinking feeling I knew where this was going.
Hunter didn’t bother answering. Instead, she grabbed my hand and led me toward the VIP section, her confidence exuding an air of belonging. The bouncer at the velvet rope took one look at me, recognized me instantly, and nodded us through without a word. Despite my attire – blue jeans and tank top – he probably thought I was here to perform for Hunter and I wasn’t in the mood to correct him.
Once we slipped into one of the plush sofas, positioned strategically near the mystery woman’s table, Hunter leaned in close, her voice low in my ear. “Time to put on a show.”
I shot her an incredulous look, heart pounding. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Trust me,” she murmured, her lips curving into that infuriatingly calm smirk. “They won’t suspect anything this way.”
With a resigned sigh, I straddled her lap, trying to act as natural as possible, even as every nerve in my body screamed at the closeness. Hunter’s hands came up to clutch my thighs, fingers digging a little too close to the curve of my ass to not have been a deliberate move on her part. The heat between us was immediate, and I forced myself to focus on the task at hand.
The plan, apparently, was to keep an eye on Cathy while also... well, giving Hunter the most convincing lap dance possible. Which proved to be a challenge, given the fact that my brain insisted on turning the whole thing into an overanalyzed, scientific breakdown.
Seducing her had been much easier when the ball was in my court. Before she’d rescued me, kissed me, and got under my skin like no one before her ever had. It was hard to put on a performance when she’d already seen the person underneath, difficult not to overthink when she watched me with those dark, devouring eyes.
I shifted my weight and bit down on my bottom lip, sinking into the swing of things while the heat between us ramped up to near-scorching degrees. Keeping my eyes down, I linked my fingers behind her neck, rolling my hips in a way that did more to stoke my own desire than it did to convince anyone else I wasn’t out of my depth.
“You’re good at this.” Hunter’s voice was a purr in my ear, and I tilted my eyes skyward to shield my burning cheeks.
“It’s pretty formulaic, really.” I tried to keep my voice even, but it hitched on the last word.
“When I tilt this way –” I curled my hips towards her, and then rolled them away again, arching my back as Hunter’s thumbs hooked into the seam of my jeans, “it maximizes the effect of–”
Her quiet laugh cut me off, a warm vibration under my hands. “You seriously over analyze everything, don’t you?”
I shot her a glare, but the heat in her gaze made my pulse quicken. “I like to be thorough.”
Her eyes gleamed with amusement. “Thorough, huh?”
Her hands traveled lightly up my hips, guiding my movements with a casual ease that only made things worse – or better. Depending on how you looked at it. My cheeks burned but I kept going, determined to sell the act.
Despite my initial embarrassment, I found a rhythm, letting myself get lost in the music – entertaining the smoldering heat that crept up my abdomen as her fingers brushed the bare skin under my shirt.
I leaned in close, pretending to whisper something sultry in Hunter’s ear, but instead, I hissed, “Can you hear anything?”
She tilted her head slightly, eyes half-lidded as if we were deep in our own world.
“Bits and pieces,” she murmured. “They’re definitely talking about someone.”
I tried to focus on their conversation, but the bass throbbed in my chest, making it hard to catch more than fragments. Words like “feast” and “meeting” floated over, but it was impossible to piece together anything coherent. Still, I caught the woman’s name mentioned once by her associate, his tone clipped and businesslike as he addressed her: “Cathy.”
Catherine Raine. Hunter was right.
When I met her eyes, Hunter’s mouth pressed into a line and she gave me a subtle nod. She’d heard it too.
Abruptly, the woman – Cathy – got to her feet, smoothing down the front of her sleek dress. Her companion followed, and without so much as a glance in our direction, they made their way toward the exit.
Hunter’s hands tightened slightly on my hips and she leaned toward me, lips brushing my bare neck.
“Show’s over,” she whispered, her voice low and laced with quiet restraint.
I nodded, reluctantly pulling away, trying not to think too hard about the lingering warmth of her touch. We both stood, slipping back into the crush of clubbers as we followed after the disappearing Cathy.
Ethan appeared at my shoulder a moment later, falling into step beside us. His expression was skeptical as ever as he jerked his head toward the exit. “She just slipped out. What now?”
“We follow her,” Hunter said, pushing past partygoers and guiding us into the street beyond. “And hope she doesn’t lose us.”
We followed Hunter to her car and she swung the passenger door open for me, addressing her clipped words at Ethan. “Get in if you want to come, but I’ll take no further sarcasm from you.”
Ethan grumbled under his breath but climbed into the back seat without further protest.
“I’m coming with for Addison’s sake,” he muttered to Hunter, folding his arms across his chest. “I don’t trust you farther than I can throw you.”
Hunter rolled her eyes, shifting the car into gear. “For the best, really, I’m sure you’ve got terrible aim.”
And with that, we sped off into the night, chasing after the woman who might just be the key to everything.