Page 13 of Hellhound AU

But no rest for the keepers of hell—I had some snooping to do. I threw on the t-shirt, which was tight but would do, and picked up the shoes—some kind of slide thingies that would work even if they were too small. I then quickly, quietly, and efficiently went through the rooms off the hallway. I could tell which was the bedroom by scent alone, and I looked around for any clues. Unfortunately, Ray had his cell phone in the kitchen, so I couldn’t look up his contact list or anything.

I didn’t find much, and I was about to walk out when I saw Ray’s hamper. There was a shirt resting on the top that clearly had a little blood on it and was sprayed with some kind of stain remover. The stain remover made things difficult, but I went over, picked up the shirt, and sniffed everywhere else on it. Yes, it obviously smelled like Ray, but I could faintly get another scent underneath that. It was sour and rancid, and it made me want to growl. I’d recognize it if we ran into it, and I’d take care of this asshole who had beaten up Milo’s friend.

I still wasn’t sure how we’d find the guy, but Milo was resourceful like that; he’d figure it out.

I headed back into the kitchen, and when I walked in, both Milo and Ray stared at me.

“You alright, boo?” Milo asked.

Ray was looking at me, too, and I had no idea what to say. I’d been gone longer than I’d thought, obviously. Finally, I burst out with, “I ate a pretzel Milo gave me.”

“Ahhh,” Ray said, nodding, at the same time that Milo said, “Hey!”

Neither of them questioned it further, though, so obviously stomach distress from Milo’s baking wasn’t a new concept to them.

We got up, said our goodbyes, and headed out the door. Ray wished me good luck, and he and Milo gave each other a hug. We were in the car and buckled up when Ray went back inside.

Milo looked at me. “You ready to go fuck up the guy who messed with Ray?”

I smiled and nodded my head. This was going to be fun.

6

Author’s Note:

This chapter is dedicated to my boyfriend, because I really did think he was a serial killer. He’s totally not. Haha. It’s just that he knows how to incapacitate a person, and if you search the web the bots actually won’t tell you “How best to knock someone unconscious without killing them.” So he comes in really handy for research purposes. (And if you’rewith the FBI or something, I’m a writer and that’s why I google all that stuff. I promise!)

MILO

That fucking rat bastard piece of shit asshole. I couldn’t believe Ray had gotten beat up by that motherfucker. And why? Because he’d tried to not let the guy drive drunk? Fucking assholes out there in the world. I was gonna kill this guy. I’d killed before. It was hard the first time, but after that it wasn’t so hard. Especially when you knew you were killing the slime of the Earth.

We had gotten into the car and I was pulling out when Rowan asked, “Where are we going?”

“Oh, my sweet ginger giant, keep up here. We’re going to fuck up Ray’s ex.” Because maybe I wouldn’t tell him about the killing thing. Not yet at least.

“We don’t know where he lives?” Rowan sort of asked.

I grinned and looked over at him. “But we do. Because when Ray took you to the bathroom, I went through his phone and got the guy’s number, and then I sent it off to my people, and they gave me an address.”

The retirement home crew was great about helping out with the little mysteries. I never had to do my own research now. Whoever said old people were bad with technology obviously never hung around with my friends. I mean, sure, they couldn’t figure out how to work a television remote half the time,but have you seen those suckers lately? They’d become google sleuths, though, and they were a big help.

Yes, I might have taught them everything they knew. But if they were going to teach me to play cribbage and bridge, the least I could do was show them how to look up someone’s information based on a phone number or name.

“Your people?” Rowan asked.

“Yes. Real bad ass crew. If you’re lucky,maybeI’ll introduce you.”

Rowan grunted, and I took it as excitement at possibly meeting my crew.

Rowan was a little dramatic on the ride over to the guy’s house. (His name was apparently Greg). I might have run over that curb just a tiny bit, and there were miles between me and that car when I turned left in front of it. Turns out that Rowan’s shriek of terror was kind of adorable.

We pulled up in front of a really nice two story home in a posh neighborhood, complete with manicured lawns, cookie cutter houses, and a cybertruck in the driveway.

What the fuck had Ray been thinking??

I mean, some things were forgivable, but a cybertruck? It screamed asshole and attention whore. Ray should have known then. Future rule—never date a man with a cybertruck.

I hopped out of the car, and Rowan followed. Despite me being in the lead, somehow Rowan ended up at the door first.