Page 29 of Haunting the Hunter
“The hell is your problem?” he asks, taking another casual drag.
I don’t blink as I approach the offensive asshole. I ball my fists at my sides, attempting to restrain myself from knocking this fucker on his ass.
“I have very little tolerance for people who hurt things that can’t fight back,” I say in a controlled voice.
I walk over and pick the cat up, cradling it in my arms, when it hisses at the man. I look down and chuckle at it.
“Sassy little thing, aren’t you? Should we make the big bad man pay for hurting you?”
I look back at the guy and, pulling out my pocket knife, walk over to him, next to his vehicle, and shove the knife into one of his tires.
“Yo, what the fuck!” I hear him yell from behind me.
“Karma’s a bitch,” I say, cat still in hand as I walk away, flipping him off. The cat purrs in my arms.
“Aww, you liked that?”
I may not believe in magic, but I sure as fuck believe in karma. I get in the car and set the cat down on the seat next to me, watching out the window as the employee talks on his phone. Clearly calling the police to complain about a man slashing his tire. I chuckle to myself as I start the engine and back out quickly. I shake my head.
Great. Now I’ve got a cat.
I look over at the small cat curled up in a little ball beside me on the seat.
I blow out a breath, resigned. “I guess you’re coming home with me.”
I make an unanticipated stop at the corner store. There’s an entire aisle dedicated to pet food, toys, and litter. I amnothaving a shit box in my house. I look over the many options and realize I have nofucking clue what I’m doing, so I grab a couple bags of assorted toys, a cardboard scratcher, and all the bags that have cat faces on them. This cat better be fucking grateful. I walk over to the cashier, my arms full, and drop everything on the counter in front of me. The cashier jumps at the thud. I watch as he scans the items one by one, attempting to make conversation.
“You must have a lot of cats,” the cashier quips.
Okay, somaybeI got too much. How the fuck am I supposed to know how much one of these things eat? I’ve never had a pet.
“Your total is $186.68.”
I hand him two hundred-dollar bills, take the bags as he passes me my change, then casually exit the store. Back in the truck, I address the cat curled up next to me.
“You’re shitting outside, got it?”
The cat looks up at me and yawns, settling itself back in a ball. I guess it’s kind of cute.
Pulling into our driveway, I notice Jack’s truck is gone. That didn’t take long, I suppose. Hopefully they stay out of trouble, if that’s even possible for Jack.
I open the truck and the cat jumps out, staying at my heels as I pull the pet items out of the truck bed.
Stepping through the front door, the cat runs in and hops up on the kitchen counter, wrapping her tail around her legs as she begins licking her paw.
“You have a habit of making yourself at home, don’t you?” I scoff, pulling two bowls from the cupboard. I fill one with water and set them both on the ground.
I tear into one of the bags of cat food, and at the sound of the kibble, the cat jumps down and attacks the food.
“You’re her problem now,” I say, grabbing a pen and piece of paper out of the kitchen drawer. “But I swear if you piss on my fucking couch, you’re staying outside.”
The cat doesn’t even acknowledge me. I check the time on my phone. Fuck, I need to leave. I quickly run to the door before the cat gets any ideas about following me and make a beeline for my truck.
CHAPTER 12
ALABASTER
Iforce myself to dematerialize, leaving her to enjoy the rest of her afternoon. What? I can be generous. She rarely gets the opportunity to be out of these four walls—the least I can afford her is to give her the illusion of more freedom. The image of how she molded to me so beautifully, and for the whole world to see, sticks in my mind. My pretty Calli does love to put on a show, it would seem. So shameless.
