2. Chapter Two
Chapter Two
The Hound
“Vegas.” I frown as I read the location. Fuck, I hate everything about Sin City. It’s crowded, sleazy, and hot. I turn to Henry. “We should just skip this one.”
“We could, ” Henry reasons, staring at the computer screen over my shoulder. “But it would give me a chance to see Cher. I haven’t seen her in the flesh since she moved from Oregon.”
I pop my jaw. “I haven’t ever seen your sister in the flesh .” I roll my finger over the pad, and double click the link for the target. The face of a man not much older than me fills the screen. Jaxton Banks, a finance guy.
It’s always the fucking finance guys.
“My sister likes to keep to herself, and honestly, I don’t think she’s ever liked any of my friends over the years,” Henry continues on about Cher as he stands up straight behind me. “Besides, she’s... strait-laced. We’re far from that.” Henry shrugs with nonchalance, takes a seat beside me, and then starts scrolling through the limited information given as I lean away.
My eyes linger on the screen for a few moments, but my buzzing phone draws my attention away from it. “Speaking of sisters...” I mutter, glancing to see Elizabeth calling. Again.
“I don’t know why you put up with her antics.”
“Yeah, well, you’re lucky your sister doesn’t have any.” I decline the call, already knowing that she’s late on her rent... again. But that’s what happens when you blow it on designer shoes and clothes. “I don’t know if mine will ever learn.”
“Trust fund baby problems,” Henry jokes, side-eying me. “I think that’s what your sister’s issue is.”
“Yeah, and she’s been cut-off for now,” I laugh, shaking my head. “Just like me. No more access to all the money Mom and Pops worked so hard for.” I roll my eyes at the notion, a sick taste following the mention of my parents. As far as I’m concerned, they’re dead and gone. They’re just another pair of fucking useless, wealthy assholes who choose green paper over their own flesh and blood.
“Yeah, but she’ll apologize her way back into their good graces. I don’t see her working at The Den much longer,” Henry says as he types the guy’s Vegas address into the GPS system, squinting at the coordinates.
“Yeah, that sin-hole is a shit show.” I shudder at the thought of The Den—and everything that happened to Luca and Emma there. “I haven’t been back in almost nine months, and Elizabeth is still putting in hours up front. I thought if I stopped showing up to keep an eye on her, she might quit.”
Henry pauses and glances over to me. “Well, it’s not like you could protect her from any of those pervs.”
I grit my teeth, ignoring the jab. I get shit on all the time... from everyone . I’m the tech guy, the big-time loser who dropped out of Harvard to join an invasive cyber hacking team... Which then landed me in prison and estranged me from anyone I ever knew beforehand. However, it did result in me meeting Teddy Lucero, who then introduced me to the cleanup team where I consequently met Henry.
And now here I am, everyone’s favorite hound–and the weakest physical link.
“I think we should go to Vegas,” Henry says, getting back to the task at hand. “Lydia and Emma are going on that girls’ trip to Destin. So we could stay there for the stake out and the hit itself. If it runs over the three weeks, then I can fly Lydia and Duke to join us. It might give you a chance to get a better internal feel, too. Drop a USB in the parking lot or whatever the fuck it is you do sometimes.”
I make a face at him and his amateur black hat hacking joke. “Just one big happy family vacation then,” I snort, rubbing the back of my neck. “However, before we jet off, you might want to clear it with Cher first. She may not enjoy the two of us just showing up.”
“Maybe, but I doubt she’ll turn me away. I’m actually pretty fucking worried about her.” He turns to face me, frowning. “She’s such a recluse, you know? Every time I call her, she’s reading or watching a movie. All she has is that new dog of hers. She never goes out or meets people.”
“Cash?”
He gives me a funny look. “Yeah, Cash. I always forget you have an insane memory.”
“It’s a good trait,” I smirk, but it fades as I start to consider Cher, herself. “Does your sister look anything like you?”
“Kind of. I don’t know,” Henry says with another shrug, and then pulls out his phone. “I’ll call her right now to double check that she’s not busy though, if it’ll make you happy.”
I nod, my mind still trying to conjure up a female version of Henry. In all this time, I’ve never seen Cher. There’s no pictures of her online for whatever reason, and even her brief social media stint was useless as she only used it to follow authors and musicians. However, I’ve always been intrigued by her existence. In fact, I was so curious at one point, I even hacked into her Cloud.
But there was nothing to see. The woman keeps nothing. She’s a mystery.
I gaze over to Henry, whose dark waves are slicked out of his face. His steely gray eyes are focused on his phone, and shift to me as soon as he presses the call button, putting it on speaker. For a few beats, I try to imagine a woman with his hair color and maybe eyes?
Oof. I push the idea away, somewhat disturbed by the notion she might be attractive. That would be a death sentence from Henry, and I’ve already come close to that after Lydia was nearly killed when I was babysitting her. Well, and hiding Emma from Lydia and Henry.
Yeah, I’m already skating on thin ice.
“It’s late,” Cher’s voice comes over the phone, one that I’ve heard many times. It’s sweet and soft, the kind of voice I’d expect a cute little cupcake decorator to have. I know Cher can be feisty, but I imagine her like a kitten. I nearly laugh at the thought.
They’re definitely opposites.
“Sorry if I woke you up,” Henry says into the phone, his voice automatically dropping to a kinder tone. “Jude and I are just working on a job, and we need your help.”
“ My help?” She bursts into laughter, and it rattles my chest. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard that come out of your mouth. I don’t know what you could possibly need from me.”
“We just need to set up at your place.” Henry turns to me, and I shrug. I don’t care where we stay as long as there’s fucking air conditioning.
“Um, okay. But you’re not going to draw any attention, right? I don’t want the police to come knocking on my door.” She lets out another stilted laugh, and while Henry chuckles along with her... I don’t. She sounds nervous , though maybe it’s just the trouble that seems to follow Henry. Or maybe she just doesn’t like visitors. Maybe she doesn’t want us to come.
I don’t blame her for that.
“We operate covertly, and you know that,” Henry says, kicking his feet up on the desk. “Lydia and Emma are going on a trip, so I figured it’s the perfect time to catch up.”
“Well, and work,” she points out. “That’s why you’re coming here. It’s not just to see me. But it’s fine. When will you be here?”
Henry rolls his lips. “Mm... Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?” I echo Henry, furrowing my brow. “I haven’t even gotten any preliminary intel yet.”
“You can do that there.” Henry gives me an annoyed look and then turns his attention back to the phone. “We’ll be there tomorrow—if that works for you, of course.”
“Sure.” Cher’s voice is flat. “And I take it you’re bringing company with you.”
My business partner smiles. “Just Jude.”
“I’ll make a note of Just Jude. ”
I chuckle, a wave of nerves fluttering in my stomach at the attention. “It’ll be nice to finally meet you.”
“Likewise,” she says. “I’ve heard a lot about you. It’ll be nice to put a face to the name of the great hacker. Henry, just send me a text when you know what time your flight will be arriving.”
“You got it. I’ll let you know. See ya.”
“Bye.” She hangs up then, disconnecting the line before Henry can.
Henry shakes his head, shoving the phone into his jeans and turning to me. “Guess we should start packing then.”
I grimace. “Guess so.”
***
Twenty-four hours later, we’re in Sin City. I pile my gear into the back of the rented Mercedes and toss Henry’s single duffle bag and backpack beside it. My reddish blond hair is sticking to my forehead already, and I’ve only been out in the trepid air for less than thirty minutes. The breeze breaks the matted locks free, but it’s hardly a relief.
It’s like being stuck in a fucking hairdryer in hell.
“You coming?” Henry calls from the front seat. “She’s waiting for us.”
“Yeah, I don’t know why she picked this shithole in the big relocation,” I mutter, as I shut the back hatch and walk around to the passenger seat. I slide in and immediately reach for the vent, redirecting the cold air to my face.
“She says she likes the desert.”
“Vastly different climate than Oregon.” I glance out the window as Harry drives toward the main road. “Where’s she live in the city?”
“Right now she’s staying at a high-rise apartment, but she said it’s a pain with Cash. I told her to go house hunting, and we’d try and move her while we’re here.”
“Does she have a job?” I ask, unable to help myself. I know their arrangement is strange... Especially considering the fact Cher has a law degree. She could easily be making her own money, and yet, she’s relying on her dear old brother for everything. It’s giving me weird gold digger vibes, but whatever. To each their own.
“Nah, she’s not working right now. I didn’t want her putting her face out there during... Well, you know.” Henry avoids my gaze as he shakes his head. The period he was away from Lydia, living off grid and under funny aliases, was a strange time for everyone.
And quite frankly, I’m so fucking glad it’s over.
“She could get a job now though,” I reason. “And buy her own house.”
“I want her to live the life she wants,” he snaps back at me. “She’ll get a job when she’s ready. She’s been through a lot in her life, and she’s still figuring out what she wants to do.”
“Right, okay,” I mumble, fighting the urge to argue that we all have been through shit. I’ve never understood why his sister is such a touchy subject. I mean, I know the history of Henry. I know he killed his stepfather and went on the run with a young Cher. I know he worked his ass off to put her in private schools and pay the difference of her scholarships. But the details of all that? I don’t know them. And I don’t pry.
We spend the next forty-five minutes navigating through thick evening traffic in silence, and I close my eyes, running through the list of shit I need to get done the moment I’m set up in a spare room of Cher’s. I know that being this close to the target, Henry will want to put eyes on him ASAP. I’m fine with that, but I need to get the basics before he goes poking around.
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.
“Computers,” I say stupidly.
She nods, her thick lips pursing. “Right. Computers.”
“Here,” Henry hands me the rest of my bags. “I need a shower.”
I take the two bags and sling them over my shoulders, wincing as I do. “Got it.” Damn, I feel weak right now.
Cher watches me as I take on the form of a fucking pack mule right before her eyes. However, if she’s amused, she doesn’t show it. “This way.” She spins on her bare feet and leads me further down the hallway to one of two doors at the end. “You don’t have your own bathroom, so you’ll have to use mine or Henry’s.”
“That’s fine.” I ignore the image of Cher soaked to the bone popping up in my head. I can’t help but wonder if those tattoos cover every inch of her body.
“Great, so...” Cher mutters, opening the last door on the right. “This is you.”
I turn back to her, meeting her gaze. “Thanks.”
She narrows her eyes at me, like something I said is wrong, but then it passes—and she smiles. “You’re welcome. I hope you enjoy your stay.” With that, she steps away.
“Cher,” I call after her, catching my breath as she turns back and her hair bounces across her shoulders.
“Yeah?”
“It’s really good to put a face to name after all this time of hearing about you.”
Her expression stays unmoving, and her voice comes out flat. “Yeah. Same.”
I blink a couple of times in an intrigued stupor, watching her disappear into her bedroom. I’m not sure if she’s truly unwelcoming, or if I just read her all wrong. But either way, I’m bothered that it bothers me.