Spy Thy Neighbor

by Shandi Boyes

  Spy Thy Neighbor

  The Story of Hunter Kane

  Shandi Boyes

  Edited by Mountains Wanted Publishing

  Cover Model Tyler Holt

  Cover Design SSB Designs

  Copyright

  © Shandi Boyes 2017

  No part of this eBook may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Any names or characters, businesses or places, events or incidents, are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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  Editing: Mountains Wanted Publishing

  Cover: SSB Designs

  Model: Tyler Holt @THolt21

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  Some photo edits were made to the photograph as per consent.

  Contents

  Want to stay in touch?

  Also by Shandi Boyes

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Epilogue

  I. Enigma Chapter Sample:

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Shandi Boyes

  Want to stay in touch?

  Facebook: facebook.com/authorshandi

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  Instagram: instagram.com/authorshandi

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  Email: authorshandi@gmail.com

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  Reader’s Group: bit.ly/ShandiBookBabes

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  Website: authorshandi.com

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  Newsletter: https://www.subscribepage.com/AuthorShandi

  Also by Shandi Boyes

  Perception Series

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  Saving Noah (Noah & Emily)

  Fighting Jacob (Jacob & Lola)

  Taming Nick (Nick & Jenni)

  Redeeming Slater (Slater and Kylie)

  Saving Emily (Noah & Emily - Novella)

  Wrapped Up with Rise Up (Perception Novella - should be read after the Bound Series)

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  Enigma

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  Enigma (Isaac & Isabelle #1)

  Unraveling an Enigma (Isaac & Isabelle #2)

  Enigma The Mystery Unmasked (Isaac & Isabelle #3)

  Enigma: The Final Chapter (Isaac & Isabelle #4)

  Beneath The Secrets (Hugo & Ava #1)

  Beneath The Sheets(Hugo & Ava #2)

  Spy Thy Neighbor (Hunter & Paige)

  The Opposite Effect (Brax & Clara)

  I Married a Mob Boss(Rico & Blaire)

  Second Shot(Hawke & Gemma)

  The Way We Are(Ryan & Savannah #1)

  The Way We Were(Ryan & Savannah #2)

  Sugar and Spice (Cormack & Harlow)

  Lady In Waiting (Regan & Alex #1)

  Man in Queue (Regan & Alex #2)

  Couple on Hold(Regan & Alex #3)

  Enigma: The Wedding (Isaac and Isabelle)

  Silent Vigilante (Brandon and Melody #1)

  Hushed Guardian (Brandon & Melody #2)

  Quiet Protector (Brandon & Melody #3)

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  Bound Series

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  Chains (Marcus & Cleo #1)

  Links(Marcus & Cleo #2)

  Bound(Marcus & Cleo #3)

  Restrain(Marcus & Cleo #4)

  Psycho (Dexter & ??)

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  Russian Mob Chronicles

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  Nikolai: A Mafia Prince Romance (Nikolai & Justine #1)

  Nikolai: Taking Back What’s Mine (Nikolai & Justine #2)

  Nikolai: What’s Left of Me(Nikolai & Justine #3)

  Nikolai: Mine to Protect(Nikolai & Justine #4)

  Asher: My Russian Revenge (Asher & Zariah)

  Nikolai: Through the Devil's Eyes(Nikolai & Justine #5)

  Trey (Trey & K)

  K: A Trey Sequel

  The Italian Cartel

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  Dimitri

  Roxanne

  Reign

  Mafia Ties (Novella)

  Maddox

  Demi

  Rocco

  Clover

  Smith

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  RomCom Standalones

  Just Playin’ (Elvis & Willow)

  Ain't Happenin' (Lorenzo & Skylar)

  The Drop Zone (Colby & Jamie)

  Very Unlikely (Brand New Couple)

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  Short Stories

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  Christmas Trio (Wesley, Andrew & Mallory -- short story)

  Falling For A Stranger (Short Story)

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  Coming Soon

  Skitzo

  Dedication

  My mum!

  Thanks for all your help!

  Shandi xx

  Chapter One

  “Holy mackerel, is she an Olympic gymnast?” I mumble to myself while chewing on the end of my pencil with teeth marks gnawed along the edge. “Now that just looks painful.”

  I wasn’t aware you could bend like that without distorting at least one muscle in your body. I wonder if she's a contortionist? Because that’s not natural. No woman should be able to bend like that. I certainly can’t bend like that.

  Straying my eyes from the sweat-producing visual in front of me, I peer down at the extensively documented notepad in my hand. I add a few key pointers on the brunette’s back-breaking position.

  My neighbor, whom I’ve nicknamed Archer, has been entertaining his most recent guest for the past hour and a half. By entertaining, I mean he’s been undertaking in sheet-clenching, core-clustering, screaming-at-the-top-of-her-lungs sexual activities.

  This type of entertaining is nothing new for Archer. He has a new bed companion a minimum three to four times a week. He doesn’t seem to have a preference for his bed-hopping friends. Blonde, brunette, Asian, African American, Caucasian, it doesn’t matter to him. The only preference he seems to have is: the louder they scream, the better.

  Although all the women I’ve seen him with are undoubtedly gorgeous, they don’t have an intellectual bone in their entire body. Well, that's my personal assumption.

  Considering I’ve never met my mysterious neighbor or his bevy of bed companions, I can’t give a fair view on the capacity of their brain power. So, instead, I’m callously judging a book by its cover. Because even knowing every precise detail of Archer’s well-formed physique, we are perfect strangers.

  But even being a stranger, I know Archer very well. It’s not just the rigid panels of his stomach that carve into his formidable V muscle, the way the veins in his arms pulse during exertive activities, or how his sixth ab muscle is slightly larger than the other five that I can divulge to you.

  I can also tell you what his face looks like in the middle of ecstasy, how he always gets a smear of peanut butter on his top lip every time he eats three pieces of toast for breakfast, and that he doesn’t drink coffee nor tea. How do I know this if we’ve never met? I’ve been stalking him relentlessly for the past six weeks.

  My mysteri
ous bearded neighbor lives in a glass house perched on the edge of a cliff at Bronte’s Peak. With only his bathroom finished with sturdy walls, every detail of his life is on display for all to see, like one big performance for the prying eyes of strangers. People like me.

  I was desperate, on the verge of a nervous breakdown and very close to missing an imperative deadline when I spotted Archer for the first time. Ever since that night, my life changed……

  I’d been staring at the screen of my Mac Notebook for three hours straight. The incessant blink of the cursor on a blank white page had my nerves rattled and my conundrum intensifying. I had a deadline. A very strict deadline. Three months were all that remained for me to pen a three hundred and sixty-five-page document.

  With fingers that type at the speed of lightning, and more free time on my hands than I’d ever had, you’d assume the deadline would be an easy feat. It wasn’t. I was suffering from the worst case of writer's block I’d ever experienced. Not just writer's block. Writer’s. Block. I hadn’t penned a single word in over a month. Not even something as simple as a grocery list. But I had no choice. I had to finish my novel.

  Writing is my bread and butter; my sole source of income. Without it, I’d soon become a pauper who couldn’t afford the luxury of flying over to the other side of the country to a beachside cottage for a writing vacation. If I didn’t pen my latest creation, I'd lose contracts well into the six figures, and royalty payments even more lucrative than that. So no matter how much my heart was decimated into tiny shreds, and I wanted to live in the shadow of a dark cloud, I had to write a bestselling romance novel. It wasn’t an option. It was a requirement.

  I was so desperate, I would have happily accepted a bad rendition of the manuscript I wrote as a senior in high school. Heck, I would have even accepted the childish novel I penned on my fascination with Joseph Gordon-Levitt, star of 3rd Rock from the Sun. It might have been rubbish, but it was something, and I had nothing. My brain was completely blank. “Words? What are words?” was the only phrase flowing from my overworked brain.

  Once another hour ticked by on the clock, my usually calm composure cracked. With a grunt, I pushed away from my makeshift desk, stood from my old leather chair and started pacing. Pacing is never a good thing. If you ever see me pacing, I suggest you run far far away from me. I only pace when I’m on the verge of snapping or am sitting dangerously on the edge of normality. That was precisely where I was that night. I had reached breaking point.

  With a hard yank on my laptop, I pulled its charging cord out of the power plug and bolted down the wooden steps. My heart thrashed faster with every thump of my feet on the rickety old stairwell. I trudged through the impeccably clean kitchen and living area. It was spotlessly clean since I have the obsessive habit of scrubbing surfaces until they sparkle when I’m seeking writing inspiration.

  I was grasping my laptop for near death, strangling it as it had done to my creativity. A blast of humid, sticky air momentarily distracted my pursuit of introducing my laptop to the cruel, wordless world I was a part of. The smell of a fall night filtered through my nose, lightening my senses. The refreshing scent of salt and sand from the beautiful blue-watered beach below calmed some of the rage boiling my blood.

  I raised my arm into the air, ready to send my laptop and its annoying blinking cursor into the pitch-dark ocean. My throw suspended mid-air when a ragged scream shrilled through my ears. The glass-shattering squeal was so ear-piercingly loud, it rattled through my hand, loosening my death-tight grip on the laptop. I fumbled, cursed, then fumbled some more when my much-loved electronic device slipped from my hold and went plummeting to the floor. My teeth gritted when my laptop crashed onto the stained wooden deck with an almighty thud.

  While bending down to survey the damage inflicted on my beloved Mac, an even more riveting sight entered my peripheral vision. My throat became scratchy, and a surge of excitement dashed through my body when my eyes locked in on a couple in a lust-filled lovemaking session. My cheeks flamed with heat as I strayed my gaze to the ground. I was beyond mortified that my temper tantrum had interrupted their intimate gathering.

  Keeping my gaze locked on the wooden floorboards, I gathered the broken pieces of my laptop, praying I could salvage some of my unused manuscripts from the hard drive.

  My pulse quickened as the female’s cries of ecstasy intensified. Although I couldn’t see the woman’s face, her ear-piercing screams told me she was close to climax. I’m not proud to admit it, but before that night, it had been a while since I’d heard anything remotely like the pleasurable groans seeping from her lips.

  Actually, I don’t recall ever hearing those types of noises come from my mouth.

  I stood from the deck, vainly endeavoring to keep my focus on the black night sky with its sprinkling of stars peeking out from the darkness of storm clouds. I stepped backward until my sweater-covered torso connected with the outer wall of the bungalow. My heart was wildly racing, and my body was covered in a dense layer of sweat. It was reacting the same way it did when my research for erotic novels found me visiting websites much steamier than the sweet young adult romance I was accustomed.

  I turned my torso and sneakily paced to the glass sliding door I’d only exited mere seconds earlier. My quick steps halted when I caught the quickest glimpse of a perfectly round, muscular, booty-luscious, drool-over-for-months male ass. It was the most spectacular male ass I’d ever seen. My eyes bulged as the moisture accumulating on my skin moved to a lower region of my body. I should have looked away. I should have respected his privacy, but I was in such complete awe of the fluidity of his movements, I couldn’t force my eyes away. I’d never witnessed anything so primal, raw, and awe-inspiring…...

  I use to just watch Archer for a few minutes each night. Then as the days crept on, my stalker obsession grew. If I’m not watching Archer, he invades my thoughts, always, even while I’m sleeping. I know this makes me sound like the character Glenn Close played in Fatal Attraction, but I assure you I am not a psychopath. I’m perfectly sane. Well, I was until I traveled to the other side of the country and started a slight obsession with my tattoo-covered neighbor.

  But my fascination isn’t what you think. I’m not some crazy stalker who wants to sink my claws into Archer and never let go. I don’t wish ill harm to his female companions, nor am I secretly plotting their demise. I stalk him as he's my savior. My inspiration. My Yoko Ono of the book writing world. He's my current series alpha male book boyfriend.

  Without him and his busty bevy of companions, I’d still be staring at the blinking cursor on the blank white screen of my monitor, praying for a string of words to magically appear. I would have never penned half of my latest, no doubt, New York Times bestselling novel.

  The way Archer moves his hips with such fluidity and ease, how every muscle in his body ensures his female companions’ cries of ecstasy are heard over the crashing of waves in the distance, and the way his perfect Adonis ass constricts and releases with every precise thrust he inflicts has inspired me to create magic. Pure book alpha male magic that's flowing onto the pages more quickly than I can write them.

  My editor is in love with the first one hundred pages of edits she has completed. My agent is using snippets of my newly created masterpiece to secure book spotlights on major television programs for the three months following my scheduled release, and my publisher and I are in negotiations about a new three-book deal on the intriguing life of Archer Boyd - my mystery neighbor’s pseudonym I created.

  A grin curls on my lips when I lock my eyes back on Archer. Archer’s nickname is highly fitting considering how well he’s had his latest companion arched over his couch the last twenty minutes. I wince when my cell phone resting on the tiled kitchen counter dings with an incoming text.

  My eyes drift back to Archer and his companion. Her position has altered from the couch to the fur rug in front of the roaring fire in the living room, but it isn’t an inventive enough position to requir
e any additional notes. I place my pencil and pad on the side table and move into the kitchen to grab my phone.

  Pepper – Did you get the package?

  I chuckle so loud, I snort.

  Me – Yep! I’m using it right now.

  That’s a total lie. I opened her package the instant it arrived, but it has been sitting on the wooden bench near the entranceway door for the past three days. I quickly check Archer’s status before turning my eyes back to my phone.

  Pepper – Are you shitting me? Does it work? Hook a girl up with some army man porn!

  Me – Army porn??

  Pepper – Yeah, army porn. All images you take with the night vision lens will be green, but from what you’ve been describing, I’ll happily accept Archer in any color I can get him.