Page 27 of Theirs to Hunt (Girls Like Us #1)

Chapter twenty-seven

I walk back into the little gym near my apartment and scan the room. No sign of Rain.

Stashing my things, I head straight for the treadmills and pick one in the back corner, where I can observe without drawing attention. To warm up, I start a brisk walk. I don’t know how long I’ll be here.

Ten minutes in, I spot her. Gym Barbie. Same one from before. Paper-thin white leggings, no underwear. With the sunlight hitting just right, she’s basically the opening act at a planetarium.

I sigh. I’m a girls’ girl, so I prep to warn her, even though I don’t like her, before some poor guy earns a PhD in astronomy. But then I catch her checking herself out in the mirror. Fine. Whatever. But when she sees me watching, she quirks a brow with a sneer and a sniff.

“Screw her,” I mutter, mostly to myself.

A voice rumbles beside me, close enough to feel in my ribs. “Who are we screwing, Bambi? ”

I nearly levitate off the treadmill. Rain. I was so distracted by Barbie’s Uranus I didn’t even notice him walk in.

“I’m going to need you to wear a bell,” I mutter, hand pressed to my chest.

“And ruin all my stealth training? Not a chance.”

I glance sideways. “You always sneak up on women at the gym?”

“Only the ones muttering about astronomy and threats of violence.”

I snort. “She earned it. She’s a menace in mesh.”

He hops onto the treadmill beside me, doesn’t start it. Just leans his forearms on the console. “So, what’s today? Endurance? Rage cardio?”

“Mostly spying,” I admit. “And maybe waiting to see if the hot guy from the other day was real or a gym mirage.”

He chuckles low. “Glad to disappoint.”

“You never told me your actual name. Or is Rain your mysterious gym alias?”

“Close. It’s Reign. With an e-i-g-n.”

I blink. “Like royalty?”

He leans in, grin sharp. “Or control.”

My pulse stutters. “Well, that’s... subtle.”

“I didn’t get it for being subtle.”

“Okay, now you have to tell me where that came from.”

He shrugs and wipes his forehead with the hem of his shirt. Rude. Because now I can’t remember what I asked.

“Call sign from the Navy. They said I didn’t need to yell to take control of a room. Just walked in and everyone followed.”

“That tracks,” I mutter, bumping my speed up, mostly so I don’t accidentally moan in public.

I keep jogging. Too aware of him beside me. Clean sweat. Leather. Something woodsy. He’s not ogling. He’s assessing.

“You train here a lot?” I ask. Not because I’ve been obsessively replaying our last encounter or anything .

“Often enough,” he says, eyes tracking a couple stretching near the mats. “It’s quiet. Local. No influencers.”

“I don’t know. You give off serious fitness cult recruiter vibes.”

He tilts his head, mock-wounded. “You wound me, Bambi.”

“That’s not actually my name.”

His gaze slides to mine. “I know.”

Something in the way he says it makes my stomach flip. Like he knows more than he should. Like he’s peeling back layers I didn’t invite him to touch.

“I was going to grab food after this,” I blurt. “You hungry?”

His grin curves slow, dangerous. “Depends on what’s on the menu.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Are you flirting or threatening to eat me?”

“Can’t it be both?”

God help me, I laugh. He does too. Like he’s relieved I cracked the tension.

“Come on,” he says, straightening. “There’s a place down the block. Small, dark, probably doesn’t serve salad. You’ll love it.”

I slow the treadmill and hit stop. “You don’t even know what I…”

“Not yet,” he says, leaning in. “But I’ve got good instincts.”

As we head out the gym’s front doors, I feel the hair on the back of my neck lift. The streets are quiet. But I know New Orleans. I know when I’m being watched.

I lean a little closer to Reign. Testing. Tempting.

Is someone following me?

I thought for sure Reign would be Brooks.

The hairs on my neck are standing up again, like I’m being watched from afar. I rub my arms briskly to shake the chill .

Let them watch.

They’re about to see exactly what it looks like when I pick my predator.

And maybe they’ll flinch. Or maybe they’ll pounce.

Either way, I’m ready.

But are they?