Page 79 of Hounded

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Page 79 of Hounded

28

Loren

I was getting toogood at running.

The cowardice was infectious, overtaking agency and common sense. It made me weak, and I couldn’t afford that. Indy needed a protector, a fighter. I used to be that for him, but I’d never been adept at fighting for myself.

I couldn’t risk Indy catching up to me. Explaining why choking was unacceptable foreplay would lead to confessions, and anger, and indignation I could not face. Because I was a dog that had been kicked too many times, and everything in me begged to learn from hard lessons and lie down.

With my keys in hand, I forced my feet to move away from the home that felt less and less like mine. I piled into my truck and made the drive to the Urban Easel. Wandering the sidewalk that bordered the darkened storefront, I thought of Sully’s smug wave while Indy marched me out of here barely an hour earlier. Now, the exhibition was over, and Joss Foster had returned to his hotel. Or fled the state if he knew what was good for him.

I should have taken up the hunt before the artist putmore distance between himself and me. Neglecting my hellish responsibilities rarely worked out in my favor and, with Whitney taken into Nero’s custody, Moira was paying closer attention to my comings and goings than ever before. Instead, I paced with my hands stuffed in the pockets of my slacks and my gaze flicking over cracks in the pavement as I tread across them.

It was less than five minutes before the shop door opened and Sully poked her head out.

“Lore?” Her eyes drooped with a bit of inebriation from the wine she held as she frowned at me. “Didn’t expect to see you again tonight. Where’s Indy?”

I waved my hand through the air, dismissing the question.

Sully checked the watch on her wrist, then nodded. “We can talk at the diner. Meet me in five.”

I never met her eyes, never stopped moving, just rounded on my heel and started the brisk walk toward Neighborhood Nosh.

Inside, the hostess greeted me with more cheer than I was in a mood to receive. I raised two fingers in a wordless request for a table where I sat until the waiter came by, then nodded to his offer of coffee. He poured two mugs full of the swill. Where last time it was weak and watery, this brew was thick and tarry enough I could have stood a spoon upright in it. There was no repairing it with cream or sugar, so I simply held the cup between my hands and let it warm my palms until Sully arrived.

She still had the flatware in her hair, and her breath smelled like White Zinfandel as she slid into the booth seat across from me. “I take it you put your boy to bed forthe night. You’re welcome, by the way.” She giggled. “How did it go exactly? I want details.”

The waiter drifting past prompted her to add, “But first I want carbs. You wanna split an appetizer? I’ll bet you burned some calories tonight.”

Before I could reply, she flagged the server down and held one of the laminated menus aloft. “Loaded fries, please. Really loaded. Bacon, cheese, sour cream… you have jalapenos?”

The server grunted affirmation, and Sully glanced at me. “How do you feel about spicy, Lore?”

I rolled my eyes aside, reluctant to explain that my stomach hadn’t stopped cramping since I left the trailer park, and that jalapenos were a no-go even on a good day.

In the absence of a response, Sully decided for me. “Extra jalapenos.”

After scribbling on his order pad, the waiter fixed me with a bland look. “For you, sir?”

I nudged my steaming coffee mug. “I’m good.”

He took our menus and headed toward the kitchen, leaving Sully and me alone.

Sully clasped her hands on the tabletop and leaned in. Her expression was nothing short of delighted.

“Banner night for us, huh?” she said. “Joss’s exhibition was a roaring success, minus the dust-up with that bigoted asshole. I’m not surprised Indy jumped your bones after that. I’d have fucked you, too. Or I guess you probably fucked him.”

I shifted on the booth seat. “Crass to call it fucking.”

Sully smirked, then lifted her coffee for a sip. “I forget about your old-fashioned sensibilities. I’m old, too, youknow. But we must adapt, or time will run away from us.”

My expression soured, and Sully nodded concession.

“Making love, then,” she said.

Her impish smile grated on me, but I didn’t correct her.

“Shall we toast our mutual success?” She hefted her mug into the air, and I stared at it without budging. The cup wobbled as her enthusiasm waned. After a second, she set it down with a clunk. “Am I misreading this? Why are you so cranky?”


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