4. Chapter Four
Chapter Four
The Hound
“I don’t think your sister likes me,” I mention to Henry as I stand to my feet and stretch my arms over my head. I’m fucking dying to get some sleep but got carried away scouring my laptop for information on Jaxton Banks, the asshole in finance.
“She’s just shy,” Henry says as he rubs his eyes. “It takes her a while to warm up to people. By the end of this, she’ll be calling you to check in.”
“Yeah, okay.” I don’t argue with him, but somehow, I don’t think that’ll be the case. In fact, I’m not sure Henry and I are even speaking of the same woman. Cher is much pricklier than Henry seems to think. She’s no fucking sweet little cupcake like I pictured, either. She’s different , and the more I see her, the more I have to ignore her.
And my urges.
Fuck, I’d like to straighten her attitude out.
“Anyway, I’m going to bed.” Henry gives me a half-hearted smile. “It just sucks Lydia is gone.”
“I keep forgetting how clingy you are,” I snort, following him down the hallway.
“Shut the fuck up.” Henry shoots daggers at me and reaches for his bedroom door, opening it and then pausing. “Get me all the intel you can. I’m ready to put boots on the ground.”
Wearily, I nod. “Got it, boss.” Henry shuts the door, leaving me standing alone in the dark hallway, my laptop in one hand. I still haven’t set up the rest of my equipment, and I should—it’s way more efficient than using my laptop.
I sigh and glance at Cher’s room, but there’s no light from under the door. She disappeared as soon as they returned from the pet park. Fuck, I hate that I find her so attractive. I mean, there are a lot of attractive women in the world—and I knew Henry’s sister might be pretty—but I never expected the intrigue to grow once in her presence. I thought it would die off as soon as I met her. But that was also before I realized there’s a lot more to her than Henry thinks. I don’t think he sees her entirely. I bet she has secrets…
But we all have them. And I’d be fucking thrilled to show her mine.
However, that’s a pipe dream–one that I, once again, need to remind myself is out of reach. I give up on it as I step inside my room, the mess of electronics providing the perfect distraction. It’s no big deal for Henry to set up in another place, but for me, it’s a process. An annoying one. I shut the door behind me, let out a groan, and slowly start to unpack.
***
Two hours later, the only light in the room is that of the monitors firing up on the empty desk I was provided. I rub my fatigued eyes as I rest against my elbows. I zone out at the screens’ blue fuzz, my mind filling with nothing but fatigue and static. And that is when I hear the creak.
I freeze, and immediately, turn the monitors off, though the computer itself continues to fire up. I tune my ear in to listen, hearing footsteps outside of my door. My eyes flicker to my watch.
Three o’clock in the morning. Who’s up?
As the footsteps fade, I silently stand to my feet and make my way to the bedroom door. I crack it open and peer down the hallway, just in time to get a peek of a blonde-headed woman slipping out the front door with a Doberman at her side.
What the hell? What’s she doing?
I slink down the hallway after her and hesitate as I reach the front door. I don’t have a key to get back in.
Ah, fuck it.
I crack it open and peer out into the hallway, catching the nub tail of Cash stepping into the elevator. I slip out, but then stop, pulling out a wad of receipts I have in my pocket. I shove it at the bottom of the door, leaving it cracked—but not to the naked eye. It’s an elementary trick, but it is what it is. I never claim to be a genius.
But I am a good fucking liar when I need to be.
When I reach the elevator, I smash the “down” button, hoping that the second one is close. Lucky for me, it dings, opens, and I’m able to step inside. It’s empty, which is unsurprising given this time of night. I stare at the panel of buttons, knowing this is an absolute guess.
Maybe she’s going to the pet park?
I shrug and smash the ground level. Something about the thought of her going there doesn’t make sense. She was in a blonde wig. Why would she wear that? For fun? I hold my breath as the doors slide open in the lobby, my eyes peeled for her.
I need an excuse if she sees me... Just needing air? Out for a walk? Fuck, those suck. Probably better to just not get caught.
My breath catches in my chest as my gaze lands on a woman in a long sleeve black dress and combat boots, walking Cash. The blonde hair is cropped at her chin—and all her tattoos are covered.
But I know it’s Cher.
She’s got the kind of hips I’d like to fucking worship.
I stay back and watch her exit on the left, battling my thoughts. She’s off-limits and might as well be lumped into the category of Lydia and Emma for all that it’s worth. However, that doesn’t stop me needing to know what the hell she’s doing.
Just call me curious.
My ragged sneakers are quiet as I cross the tile floors and head out into the night. Her apartment isn’t all that far from the strip—and it shows. The streets aren’t empty, and while that’s annoying, it works in my favor. I stay a ways back as I trail her, but not so far that I can’t see her clearly. People seem to part like the Red Sea for the woman, eyeing the dog as they step to the side.
I, however, don’t get that kind of response, and I’m left saying “excuse me” every fucking time I have to slip past someone. It’s frustrating, but that’s what comes with the territory of being mostly invisible to the world.
Maybe I should get a big ass dog.
Suddenly, Cher veers off down an alley on the right-hand side of the street, and I pick up my pace.
Where is she going? Does Henry know she’s out here? There’s a shockwave of excitement at the unknown, and my mind conjures up a million different scenarios. My resolute self needs answers, and there’s no harm in solving a good mystery, right?
Right.
When I reach the alleyway, it’s as disturbing as I expected. Dimly lit, narrow, and the kind of place I’d think a woman would want to avoid. Hell, I want to avoid it. But my eyes catch Cher, speaking with another woman. She’s got a hoodie on and is considerably taller than Cher. However, the ends of her hair stick out, and they’re a bright shade of blue.
Intriguing. Nothing like a good midnight rendezvous.
But then she hands Cher what appears to be a package.
My heart sinks, the excitement dissipating as quickly as it came on. I’ve seen enough drug exchanges to know one when I see it. What the fuck is she doing messing with dealers? Irritation burns in my chest. I have to tell Henry.
But something stops me from pulling out my phone as Cher gives the woman a hug. They chat for a while, and I stand there watching like a predator in the shadows. I halfway expect the two women to kiss or something. But they don’t. The woman gives Cash a pet, and then they part ways.
What the fuck are you thinking, Cher? I slink backward as she turns around, jumping out of sight just in time. I slip into a twenty-four-hour convenience store and pretend to peruse for candy as I watch carefully through the window, eyeing her as she passes by. The package is tucked away in her crossbody purse, and as soon as the coast is clear, I head back out into the street.
Part of me wants to stage a run-in, pretending like I was out and about, but the other part knows better—and that same part is getting some sort of sick thrill by following a pretty woman down the street like I’m somehow her protector...even though I could never be anyone’s. I’m too busy being everyone else’s bitch.
I’m cut from a different cloth–and no one knows the extent of that fabric. Not even me. I do know that I think about it though. I think about breaking free from my friends and doing whatever the fuck I want.
Too bad I’m too weak. The intrusive thought blasts through my mind as I keep a few car lengths between myself and Cher, the moment of inferiority ruining the high. As we reach the apartment building, I watch through the glass as she and Cash head right for the elevator…
And my fuck-up comes crashing down on me.
There’s no way in hell I can beat her back to the apartment.
And that means she’ll know the door was jimmied.
Well, shit.
I really didn’t think it through, and as I stand there outside, I take a deep breath. I can peel back all the layers of the internet, falsify information, methodically plan, and obliterate someone’s online existence.
But I can’t stalk someone on a whim.
I’ll have to come up with some other story for tonight.
I scan the area, my eyes landing on a somewhat seedy lounge just down street. It’s still flashing that it’s open, and as much as I want to go back to the apartment and get some sleep, I don’t get that luxury. Not tonight. The last thing I need is to get caught creeping on Cher. So reluctantly, I make my way across the street and step inside.
A haze of smoke fills the place, but it’s full, even for nearly four in the morning. I rake my fingers through my hair and head toward the bar, ignoring the sketchy patrons. Vegas really is the city that never sleeps–and draws a diverse crowd. There are barely legal college kids, drunk bachelor parties, and then a handful of people you couldn’t pay me to make eye contact with. I slide onto a bar stool, angling my body back toward the apartment building–just in case Cher tries to leave again.
“What can I get you?” a sultry voice says from behind me.
I turn to see a pretty dark-headed woman smiling at me. “I’ll just have a Jack on the Rocks.”
“Hmm, wouldn’t have pegged you as one of those types.” She pops her red lips against each other, amusement flashing across her face. “I figured you’d be a wine kind of guy.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes, unsurprised by the judgment. “I don’t like wine.”
“I’ll remember that next time.” She giggles obnoxiously and then disappears to make my drink. I stare out into the early morning, wondering if I should sit here long enough to see the sun rise in the Sin City sky, or if I can go back to the apartment before.
The bartender sets my drink down and I hand her my card to pay for it.
“Only going to have one?” She cocks her heart-shaped face to the left. “I figured you’d at least have two.”
“I haven’t made up my mind yet,” I mutter, picking up the drink and downing it in one go. “But you know what... I think I will have another.”
“I like the sound of that.” She gives me a wink that does nothing for me, and quickly makes another—which I also down. I sit until my watch reaches five-thirty, and then I pay my tab.
Time to wander back to the apartment.
As I ride the elevator up to Cher’s place a few minutes later, I double check that I smell like a bar. It’s much easier to have a partial truth to hide beneath if cornered. I tip my head back against the wall and shut my eyes. The two glasses of whiskey have me feeling more tired than ever, and the worst part is, I know I’ll be locked out. I’ll have to call Henry, and then listen to him bitch about my spontaneous late-night outing.
“You should’ve been getting intel,” I hear his voice in my head.
Nope. I followed your sister into a dark alley instead. I chuckle to myself.
However, as I step out of the elevator, the hair on the back of my neck bristles. I glance up and down the hallway of warm gray walls and coordinating dark carpet. No one is there. Alcohol and fatigue are getting to me. Shaking it off, I make my way to the apartment, pulling my phone out of my pocket. Before I dial Henry, I realize there’s no need.
The door is still cracked, my receipts shoved in the opening.
Shit. Did Cher not come home?
I push the door in, and swipe up the paper, shoving it back in my pocket. My gaze sweeps across the entryway and I let the door close fully behind me, wincing as it clicks shut. I make my way toward the hallway, but as I reach the kitchen, I freeze.
Cher sips a glass of water, her lucid blue eyes trained on me. “Did you have a nice outing, Jude ?”