Andrea Sanders, legendary hunter, is the kind of legend that only the brave and stupid dare to whisper about at night. After ditching the foster system at sixteen, she follows her father's footsteps into the only life she's ever known: hunting down...
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I watched Dean curiously as he looked over the human heart sitting in a Tupperware container. Is he sick? I thought while absentmindedly poking at the liver in front of me. His suit coat was laid over the back of his chair, and he'd rolled the sleeves of his white dress shirt to just below the elbows. Even messing with organs, he was attractive. I felt Sam's gaze on me, and the knowing look on his face only served to make me blush. Dropping my gaze back to the rancid pile of tissue in front of me from the double suicide that had been added to our cannibal case, I let my thoughts wander back to last night.
Someone had strung pink paper hearts across the front of the bar, reminding me of a kindergarten classroom. All around me people were talking, laughing and sneaking away to somewhere more private. Swirling the whiskey in my glass, I tried to shake myself out of whatever funk I seemed to be stuck in. Three men—each attractive in their own right—had already come up to me and offered to buy me a drink or dance with me over by the live band, but each time I had accepted the drink and ended the conversation there.
Ice clinked in my glass as I took a hard gulp and placed it back on the bar counter. The bartender was an older woman with phenomenal definition in her biceps. She took my glass with a nod and walked off to refill it. Leaning my head on my hand in annoyance, I waited for my new drink with little to no excitement. "What's a guy have to do to take a girl like you home tonight?" My eyebrows furrowed at the deep voice before spinning around on the bar stool and busting out laughing.
"Sam? What the hell are you doing here?" His grin was wide as he slid into the stool beside me.
My best friend gestured to the brown paper bag covered in grease stains that was clenched in his hand. "Promised Dean I would pick up bar burgers. Said he hadn't had a good one in a while."
I bit the inside of my cheek. "Dean? Isn't he out hooking up with as many unattached women as he can find?"
Sam's smile only grew as he shook his head. "Nah, see Dean didn't go out tonight. Said he just didn't want to."
"Oh." My cheeks flamed red as my brain took the information and ran with it. "Did he, um, say why?"
The knowing look on his face was really starting to get on my nerves, but I could worry about that later. "Nope. He didn't elaborate. I may have an idea or two. But, what about you? What are you doing here already? I thought you would wait out your fake date before driving over."
I chuckled with a shake of my head. "Figured I'd get here, get drunk, and make plenty of mistakes I would no doubt regret in the morning. Problem is, I can't seem to accept anything more than a drink at the moment." I shook my head as I took the whiskey glass from the bartender with a thank you. "Now what am I supposed to do with the box of condoms I bought?"
