HANS: Alliance Series Book Four(54)



Though, again, the fact that she’s currently sitting in my safe room, looking at all the live feeds I have of her house, has probably tipped her off to the fact that I’ve invaded her privacy.

Are you obsessed with me?

My feet are silent in the grass as I circle around the back of her house in complete darkness, having memorized every inch of her property.

Yeah, Cassandra Lynn Cantrell. I’m obsessed with you.

Getting to her driveway, I jog the distance to my house.

When I first checked out what happened, I circled through the woods. Because I needed to know if the man was alone or if he was part of a force trying to hit my location—and Cassandra just happened to hear the wrong thing at the wrong time.

But since it appears as though the man was by himself, now it’s about speed. Because I doubt this is about Cassandra. I’m certain this man was coming to confirm my location.

I jump up the steps to my front door and use my free hand to unlock it.

Once inside, I go straight to the kitchen.

It takes me seconds to snag a Ziploc bag and shove the cookies in, then cross the house to my room, put the Post-it on the stack with the others, pull two backpacks out of my closet, shove the cookies into one, then head back downstairs.





CHAPTER 66





Cassie





The moment Hans appears on the screen showing the rest of the basement, I jump up from the chair and rush to the door.

I pull it open just as Hans opens the outer door. And I still at the sight of him.

His hair is still loose, drier now and slightly wavy, and he has a backpack hiked over each shoulder.

With the brighter basement lights behind him, he has an almost otherworldly look.

His eyes move down my body.

My look is less otherworldly and more I stole your sweatshirt.

He lowers his eyes to my hands and the half-eaten bag of Skittles I’m holding.

Oh, right, I also stole his candy.

Hans doesn’t give me time to step back. He hooks his hand around the back of my neck and slams his mouth to mine, sliding his tongue between my lips.

He groans.

Like groans.

The fingers on my neck flex, and he cups the back of my head with his other hand.

He’s only touching me above the shoulders, but it feels like he’s consuming me.

I dig my hands into his firm sides.

He licks into me. “Fuck.” He pulls me closer. “Goddamn Skittles.” His mouth consumes mine. “Fucking seductress.”

His grip on me tightens, then he pulls back.

“We gotta go.”

I nod. Then come back into the moment. “Wait, go where?”

Hans swings one of the backpacks off his shoulder and pulls my favorite tennis shoes out of a side pocket.

I automatically drop them to the floor and start to shove my feet into them.

As soon as my second heel slips into the shoe, Hans grabs my hand and pulls me out of the strange surveillance room.

A tiny part of me was wondering if Hans would try to keep me down here, so him guiding me out of the room is a good sign. But then I remember the way he ate my ass in the garage last weekend, so Hans locking me up and keeping me as his little sex pet might not be a bad thing.

Hans pauses to make sure both doors close behind us, then we’re back to moving.

I follow him up the stairs, through the kitchen, and into the garage.

Like last time, the garage is pitch black, but Hans keeps his hold on my hand and guides me to the pickup truck.

I hear the door open, but no light comes on.

“Climb in.”

“I can’t see.”

“Oh, right.” Hans says it like he didn’t realize there is zero light in here.

His hand leaves mine, and I hear his footsteps across the floor, then the garage door starts opening.

It’s dark outside too, but there’s enough ambient light to illuminate the truck in front of me.

I climb in and am closing my door just as Hans opens his.

He tosses the two backpacks into the back seat, then gets in himself.

“So…” I start as he turns the truck on. “Can you see in the dark?”

Hans turns his face to me. “What?”

“You walk around like you can see everything when I can’t even see my hand in front of my face.”

He shrugs and puts the truck in reverse. “I just have things memorized.”

Memorized.

Hans backs out of his driveway, then right up mine, stopping with his rear bumper a few feet from mine.

Ah yes, my car that won’t start.

“Stay here,” Hans tells me, then jumps out, leaving the engine running.

Watching him circle around to the back of the truck, I realize I never got an answer when I asked where we were going.

Hans lowers the tailgate, and I watch him open a panel I didn’t know was there in the side wall.

He pulls something free, then slams the panel shut and jogs off around the corner of the garage.

My eyes widen.

Is that…?

Just before he disappears into the dark, he gives the plastic a shake, and it unfurls into what can only be described as a body bag.

I bite down on the completely inappropriate urge to laugh.

A man with a basement full of guns and camera angles of my house, who also keeps body bags in his truck, has to be a red flag. Right?

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