Page 25 of Fanged Desire
I let out a breath and pulled Ethan into a quick hug. "I’ll explain later, I promise," I said quickly. "Just... thank you for covering for me."
Ethan sighed but nodded. "Like I said, I told the manager you went home early. You’ll still be in trouble, but not the kind that’ll get you fired."
He eyed Hunter pointedly, before untangling my arms from his neck. "Just don’t letherdrag you into something worse."
The drive to – wherever we were headed – was quiet, populated with the soft hum of the car engine and the occasional flick of Hunter's gaze to the rearview mirror. I watched her from the corner of my eye, noting the slight furrow of her brow. It was theonly sign that the night’s chaos had brushed even the slightest against her usual calm and composed exterior.
I fiddled with the small flash drive in my hands, turning it over and over while my thoughts raced. Ethan was distrustful of Hunter, and truth be told, I was beginning to question the true nature of my enigmatic companion myself. Yet there was no denying she had stepped into my life like a guardian angel – not once, not twice, but multiple times now.
First, redirecting a handsy drunk during New Year's, then appearing out of nowhere to handle those thugs, and now this lead… she was a chaotic whirlwind contained in a slick suit, somehow exactly what I needed, even if her motives weren’t purely altruistic.
My pulse was still racing from the evening's events, the tension and thrill of the heist mingling with a sense of relief, maybe even hope, that began to settle in. Because of her.
Hunter brought the car to a stop and I looked up to see a massive, sleek office block towering before us.
"This is it," she said, nodding toward the building. "I’ve got a laptop upstairs."
“Is this… High Stakes headquarters?” My eyes nearly popped out of my skull as I turned to her. High Stakes health products were a big deal around the city, a favorite among fitness enthusiasts and health gurus alike. “You workhere?”
Hunter replied with a shrug and a ribald smirk, “It’s a well-paying job.”
I cast my gaze around the interior of her sports car, only just coming to realize that everything about this woman, from her clothes to the way she carried herself, screamed excessive wealth. “No kidding.”
Most of the lights in the building were out, adding a layer of intrigue as Hunter directed me past the grand front doors to asmaller, more discreet entrance – and as we slipped inside, she chose the fire escape staircase over the main lobby.
“Are we breaking and entering?” The place was empty, but her shady tactics made me inclined to whisper as she guided me up the stairs.
“No! I literally have a key.”
Considering the way she promptly ushered me out of sight of the security cameras, I was far from convinced.
Hunter rebuked my condemning expression with a shrug. “I am, technically, free to come and go as I please – but guests are usually expected to sign in.”
On the twelfth floor we finally reached an office – Hunter’s office, I realized – and stepped inside.
The room was neat and minimalistic, but the weathered red coffee machine and scattering of detective novels gave it a strange sense of home. The sofa in the corner looked lived-in, like it had served as a makeshift bed for much of its life.
“All right. Let’s see if this was worth the trouble.” Hunter moved to her desk and booted up the laptop, motioning for the flash drive.
I handed it over and leaned closer as the footage began to load, the proximity sending a subtle thrill through me.
"Do you know when Penelope worked at the club?" Hunter's voice was a low murmur, cutting through the quiet.
I scanned the contents of her desk before responding, taking in the discarded coffee cup, the stack of papers, and a bat-shaped paperweight grinning with exaggerated fangs.
A part of me wondered why Hunter had brought me here instead of to her actual home. The most probable answer was she simply didn’t trust me enough to show me that part of her life. But looking over the contents of her office and the way she seemed to uncoil like a cat stretching out in the sun, something told me this place was home to her to some degree.
"Roughly nine months ago. Late at night, mostly. She wasn’t there long, just a few weeks," I replied eventually, watching as Hunter's fingers flew over the keyboard, pulling up the archived footage.
Hunter clicked through the security footage, cycling back to the dates I relayed to her. Together, we watched frame after frame of Micere at night – patrons milling around, dancers on the stage, bartenders rushing to keep up with orders.
And then, there she was, Penelope, apparating on screen in shades of gray. Like a ghost.
Penelope looked different from how I remembered her; hair pulled into loose curls, lips painted and eyes layered with heavy makeup. She was smiling as she carried a tray between tables, chatting casually with patrons. But there was something else, noticeable even in the grainy shade of the security camera – a tiredness in her eyes that I recognized instantly.
Hunter glanced up at me but said nothing, letting the silence stretch on as I stared at the screen. The ache in my chest grew with each frame.
We sped through the footage, watching night after night unfold. In every clip, Penelope was always there, going through the motions. It wasn’t until I spotted the woman that I remembered to take in a breath.
