Page 4 of Hunters and Prey

Chapter 2

“Hey, Tom, do you mind if I borrow your charger?"

Thomas Miller considered himself a rather courageous guy. Just two weeks ago, he'd jumped right into a burning house to get a couple of kids out of it. And nonetheless, when his panicked gaze cut through to his seventeen-year-old little sister's, he mouthed, "Help me!"

There was a hot redhead on his bed, and she was telling him how they should have a small wedding, because big weddings were lame and flashy.

Needless to say, he had absolutely fucking no intention of having any kind of wedding with his three-night stand. Damn, he'd started to date the girl two weeks ago. What was wrong with women?

Chloe rolled her eyes. She was used to scenes like that. It wasn't the first clingy woman he'd landed. Seriously, it was a curse. He was fit, nice, pretty respectful, and didn't set out to hurt anyone. He attracted women easily, and they always seemed normal at first. Then there was wedding talk, or baby talk, or moving-in-together talk.

Another guy might have been pissed his little sister was crashing with him all the time, but he encouraged her to come over whenever she wanted, because like him, his sister had a unique gift.

Talking out of her ass. She could say just about anything, looking people straight on with her big blue baby eyes, and somehow, they listened.

"Oh, hi there. I don't think we've met. I'm Chloe, his sister."

"Miranda," said the redhead, who'd glared until she heard the word “sister.” Now, she beamed at her.

"So nice to meet you, Miranda. And I'm glad to see you're helping Tom overcome his little problem."

Miranda tilted her head. "Problem?"

Chloe blinked. "Oh. Oh. You haven't discussed it yet...all right, sorry, I didn't mean to intrude."

"No, no. What problem?"

Miranda's attention went from Chloe to him and back again.

"It's...look, I'm his sister. I don't like speaking about that stuff."

"Stuff?"

"Chloe," said Tom, sighing. "You know I don't discuss it right away. I don't want Miranda to run out on me."

"But the psychologist is telling you that you should be open about it from the start, so that your relationships aren't built on lies."

It was hard to keep his face straight. They had various scripts worked out. This one was his least favorite, because the effort to stop himself from laughing his ass off was a goddamn workout.

"What? What?"

She was buying it. Of course she was. It never worked when anyone else tried to help him, but people always believed Chloe. Always liked her, too.

"Honey, I hope it's not going to be a problem for you, but, well, I keep the light off when we—do stuff—because I like to picture men while having sex. Don't get me wrong, I'm not gay. I don't like having sex with men at all. It's just fun to...you know. Imagine."

He broke into his most charming, secretive smile.

The redhead was gone in seventeen seconds flat, banging the door on her way out.

Chloe waited until she'd shut the door behind her to turn back to Tom and ask, "So, can I have your charger?"

He unplugged it from his bedside table and chucked it at her. She'd certainly earned it.

"Thanks, big brother. Good luck with your 'little problem.'"

She winked as she disappeared.

Tom was grateful for Chloe. They bickered like children from time to time, but since the day his father had placed her in his arms and told him to hold her head, when he was seven, he'd had her back. When she'd learned to use that silver tongue of hers, her cheekbones and pouty mouth, she'd had his.

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