Hunt and Prey (Kelsey's Burden Series Book 8), Kaylie Hunter [best motivational books txt] 📗

in front of me. I glanced at the backlit screen which read: Asshole is calling.

Hearing footsteps hurrying down the hall, I jumped back and looked around the room. There was nowhere to hide. No closets. No partial walls. No fake Ficus trees. I scurried over to the kitchen counter, climbing on top of it and shrinking back as far as possible beside the refrigerator. I took off the night-vision goggles and pulled my gun. The man came rushing into the room and turned on the kitchen light.

“Hello?” he said, answering his phone.

I peeked around the refrigerator, but only got a quick glance of a naked body before I tucked my head back again. The dog, who was indeed a black and tan rottweiler, sat on the kitchen floor, watching both his owner and me. I gave the dog the evil eye, hoping he wouldn’t give away my location, as I kept an ear to the one-sided conversation.

“No, I haven’t confirmed it’s her yet. I should know by tomorrow, the day after at the latest.” There was a short pause before he spoke again. “No. You’ll need to wait until I confirm it’s her. It could be a lookalike. It happens a lot in this business.” Another pause. “Yes, I’ll call when I know.”

He tossed the phone onto the table and then did something I wasn’t expecting—he turned and opened the refrigerator. We stood staring at each other, neither of us moving. Of course, I had my gun pointed at him and he was not only unarmed, but completely naked.

“Don’t believe in jammies?” I asked, sliding off the counter and keeping my gun pointed in his direction.

He glanced over his shoulder at his dog. “How the hell did you get in my house?”

“Lock pick set and doggy treats. Your dog really likes the peanut butter snacks.”

He pulled two beers from the refrigerator. “I’m going to sit and drink a beer. My gun is in the bedroom so you can either join me or shoot me. I don’t recommend shooting, though. Gunshots scare Beast. He’ll pee all over the floor.”

Without taking my eyes off him, I tossed him a dishtowel from the counter. “In case you want to cover up.”

He tossed the towel back on the counter before moving to the table and sitting with his back against the wall. He uncapped both beers, setting one in front of the chair on the other side of the table.

I raised an eyebrow as I watched him. “You don’t seem too concerned to find me here.”

He shrugged. “I recognized you earlier at the club when you were talking to Evie. Kid Harrison. Half cop. Half criminal. You have one hell of a following, but as far as the stories go, you’ve never killed an unarmed man.”

“Who are you?” I asked, though I was confident I’d already figured it out.

“Russell Spencer, private investigator.” He took a casual drink of his beer.

“Why are you following Evie?”

“I was hired to find her.”

“I saw the contract.” I looked around the small house. “I know you could use the money so why are you stalling to tell your client about Evie?”

He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “Fucking conscience. One phone call and I could collect my money, but I get the feeling this guy is lying about why he’s looking for her.”

“What story did he give you?”

Russell motioned toward the file. “Didn’t get that far in your reading?”

I laughed, holstering my gun as I walked over and sat. “If it weren’t for the phone call, I could’ve been in and out with you none the wiser. Normal people take their phones with them to the bedroom.”

“Hate the damn things. You know some say they cause brain cancer.”

“And plenty of other studies have proven they don’t.”

“Why risk it?”

“I’m more likely to die from a bullet, so I’m not concerned. Tell me about your client, Mr. Spencer.” I lifted my beer and took a drink.

“Call me Spence, and I don’t know much. It was easier finding Genevieve than ID my client.”

“Credit card search?”

He shook his head. “Prepaid card registered in Georgia.”

“IP address from the online application?”

“Blocked.”

“What about the phone number?” I asked, nodding toward his phone.

“Burner phone. From his voice, I’d guess he’s in his forties or fifties, no accent but well spoken. Educated. Polished vocabulary.”

“So… you narrowed it down to a middle-aged man who likely went to college? That’s it?”

“Yup.”

“You’re not very good at your job, are you?” I hid my grin behind my beer bottle as I took another drink.

“Is that a challenge?” he asked.

“No. Only an observation.”

He leaned slightly forward, a crooked grin lightening his facial features. “Honey, I’ve got skills that would wet your panties, but this guy is a ghost.”

I leaned back in my chair, shaking my head in annoyance. “You call me honey again, and I’ll break your fingers, one by one. Now what excuse did your client give you when he hired you to find Evie?”

He laughed before taking the last drink of his beer and setting the bottle in the middle of the table. “Said he was trying to find his cousin after a family fallout, but he’s pushing a little too hard just to reconnect with a cousin.” He waved a hand at the files. “I need sleep. Feel free to either join me or stay up reading my case notes.” He stood, his semi-erect penis bouncing at eye level in front of me. “Though,” he said leaning over with one hand braced on the back of my chair as he used the other hand to skate a finger down my neck, “I’m hoping you’ll join me.”

“Not happening,” I said, knocking his hand away.

“Suit yourself,” he said as he strutted his naked ass down the hall and