33. Chapter 33
Chapter 33
The Hound
“Christopher Nile,” I repeat the name aloud as I read it on the screen. “Where the fuck are you?” My eyes scan the screen as my system attempts to locate the phone number that had been texting Cher. I know it’s him but pulling a trace can be difficult.
I lean against my hand, staring at the screen that repeats the little buffering circle over and over again. My head is full of Cher, and my cock is constantly waiting for her to show up at my door. It’s more than just that, of course. I don’t fucking feel safe with her anywhere other than with me—even if she is with her brother. He has no idea of what’s going on around her, which means he could be taken off guard.
It's not like he’s James Bond or something.
However, as if he hears my thoughts, my phone lights up with Henry’s phone number. I blow out a breath and answer it.
“What’s up?”
“Some asshole undercut and bought the house at twenty thousand over asking price,” Henry snaps. “Who the fuck does that? And why the fuck wouldn’t the realtor tell me? She didn’t even have the nerve to show up to the meeting. What a fucking waste.”
Alarms start ringing in my head. “Did she say who the buyer was?”
“No, because like I just said, she didn’t even have the guts to show up to the meeting. I found out through the receptionist.”
“Where is Cher?” I don’t know why the fuck I’m even asking as I pull up her location on my phone. My heart fucking drops as I see the blinking dot at the address of the house we looked at.
“She’s with Lydia?”
“I think you should call Lydia,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm. “Just to make sure. Just patch her in.”
“Are you trying to say that Cher bought the house? Or is this her messing with me?” Henry sounds irritated, but I barely register it as the screen fills with the information I was waiting on.
And it’s bad.
It’s so fucking bad.
“I have to go.”