Page 61 of Hounded

I frowned. “About what?”

The lights above the island cast shadows across Sully’s umber skin as her expression grew somber. “Do you still want a relationship with him?”

Uncertainty held my tongue.

“It’s not easy loving an addict,” Sully said. “And Indy’s complicated. All the heartache and loss, the cycle of it, that’s a lot to take on.”

“I can’t leave him.” I shook my head. “He doesn’t have anyone else.”

Before the suicide, I wouldn’t have dreamed of abandoning Indy or of carrying on in eternity without him. He was my constant, my comfort, my best friend, and my beloved. But if he wanted to escape me, to cut short ourprecious time together, perhaps I was holding too tightly to something better let go.

“It’s instinctive, you know. Looking after him.” Sully’s statement jarred me.

“What do you mean?”

She tipped her cup toward me. “Your hound. It has a job. Besides harvesting souls for some demon.”

My quizzical look spurred her on.

“Hellhounds are guardians,” she explained. “Designated protectors for other supernatural creatures. So, you caring for Indy isn’t just devotion, it’s also duty.” She smiled, and I frowned.

I’d love him anyway.

It was an unnecessary argument, meant for the beast inside me who first decided our phoenix was a treasure. Devotion, duty, or stubborn determination, it didn’t matter. I would love Indy without the hound and with the drugs.

But I could love him from afar. I could protect him from a distance. It would hurt less eventually, and Indy would forget. Maybe, somehow, I could learn to forget, too.

Sully polished off her tea, then pushed the empty mug aside. “You may not always have a choice, but you do in this. If you want to give things with Indy another try, you should bring him to the exhibition.”

I rolled my eyes, but that only prompted her to come back more adamantly than before.

“It’s Joss fucking Foster!” she insisted. “He’s a big deal. Try to be excited for me.”

The name triggered recognition. My latest assignmentfrom Moira was to reap the soul of the artist Sully was about to host at her gallery. Joss Foster was a big deal because he’dmadedeals with demons, and now his time was up.

I couldn’t feign enthusiasm, too busy thinking of juggling Sully’s and possibly Indy’s attentions in a room full of strangers while trying to find a way to lure the guest of honor away from his own party.

“It’s next Friday night,” Sully carried on. “If you come alone, that’s fine, too. You can be my date. Give the people something to gossip about.”

I dredged my spoon through my tea. “I’ll be there,” I replied. Though she might come to wish I wouldn’t be.

22

Loren

My talk with Sullyleft me no more certain of where I stood with Indy or whether or not I wanted to have a relationship with him. But I’d promised to fix his shower, so that was where I found myself the next morning: standing under the Airstream’s awning with a tool bag slung over my shoulder.

I hesitated after knocking, unsure of what I would say until Indy opened the door and squinted out into the sunshine. It was early for him at 9:30, and I might have woken him. His colorful curls were mussed, and his satin robe and shorts exposed his bare, shaved legs. When he recognized me, his eyes went from narrow to wide, and he tapped his heels together in his bunny slippers.

“I didn’t realize plumbers dressed in business casual.” He nodded to my button-down shirt and cardigan. “I half-expected a red shirt and overalls.”

I looked down, shaking one leg in the hopes of smoothing the wrinkles that were hard-pressed into my jeans. After a long night in my muggy truck cab, my clothes were rumpled, and my hair was damp with thesweat that speckled my skin.

My disheveled state didn’t stop Indy from gawking or from tagging on, “You know, Mario? Italian plumber?”

I frowned.

He cleared his throat, then stepped aside to open a path to the trailer’s interior. “That was funnier in my head. Come in.”

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