She back-tracked through the footage, searching for them earlier. No. That Monday was the day they’d moved in. She flicked through the footage again in case she’d missed something—removalists, them arriving with boxes, bags, anything. Even if they’d bought the apartment fully furnished, they’d have personal items—clothes, books, stuff. Nothing.
She returned to the Monday footage, flopped back in her chair and stared at the frozen image on the screen. Two men, both in snug jeans and shirt. All they’d brought with them was an overnight carryall and a laptop bag each.
It reminded her of the dayshe’dmoved in. Her laptop bag slung over her shoulder, she’d carried all her worldly possessions in an old shopping bag. Not much—a practical change of clothes, toiletries, her mother’s teapot, a few photos. She’d wanted nothing else from her haunted childhood. The memories were baggage enough. Melinda had arrived with little more than they had because she’d made a deliberate choice to leave everything else behind. What was their excuse?
She scanned for Wi-Fi networks, ignoring the familiar ones of her neighbors. Nothing new popped up on the list. A hidden SSID? To the uninitiated, disabling the broadcasting function on your SSID made it secure. It wasn’t. Not against someone like Melinda. She initiated a program, let it run its scan and picked up two, but they were ones she already knew about. It could be they hadn’t set things up yet, or used public networks. It could be something more sinister.
After ensuring her own system was secure, she brought up the newest identity she’d created for her client. None of her alerts had triggered this time. Everything looked as it should. Finally, an identity that was holding. MysticMage had warned Melinda the person she was hiding from would stop at nothing. That money was no object. It used to surprise her what moneycould buy—private investigators, police officials, silence. Not anymore.
A knock on her front door interrupted her, and Melinda checked her security feed.
What the hell?
Standing at her door, his fist raised to knock again, was Mr. No-Watch.
Louis stood outside Melinda Cheng’s door. He’d already pounded on Mr. Patel’s—the old man was nearly deaf—and invited him for their little party.And Joe, the advertising rep in apartment thirty-three. If Melinda were watching, or checked the security feed—which no doubt she would—hers wouldn’t be the only neighbor’s door he’d knocked on. Nor the first.
The wait was interminable, and he fought the need to fidget. He knocked again. Finally, he picked up the soft footfalls of her tiptoeing toward the door. Humans were always so loud, even when they were trying not to be.
The soft scratch of metal on wood signaled the peephole cover sliding across. He lifted his head, letting her get a good look at him. She’d most likely recognize him as the man she’d met in the elevator. To other werewolves, there was a world of difference between him and Pierre, but humans rarely noticed. If she was observant, she might recollect him being in thepâtisseriedown the street.
Her scent wafted to him, and he breathed it in. The subtle hint of deodorant, something soft, and peaches—her body wash? Shampoo?—and a healthy dose of wariness. Smartfille.
Putain,he wanted her to answer. To open the door so he could look his fill, take in every little nuance, her every micro-expression, not the brief side glance he’d received in thepâtisserie. He needed more. A few minutes at least. Just him andher. Something about her dragged him in. She called to him. To them.
“What do you want?” she asked through the closed door.
Her voice was sharp and edged with tension, but it washed over him like manna from heaven, sending goosebumps skittering across his skin.
“Ah,salut,” he said. “I’m your new neighbor from down the hall in apartment thirty-five. My brother and I moved in a few weeks ago.” What would she think when she realized they were twins? Would it shock her? Excite her, maybe?
He resisted a smile at the clack of keys on a laptop. She was checking the security feed.
Louis gave the peephole his best smile, the one he reserved for women he wanted to charm. Or coax into their bed. “I wanted to introduce myself.” Sometimes his charm didn’t work. Sometimes it was Pierre’s intensity, his dominance.
Her indecision burned through the door. Then the beep of an alarm being turned off and the slide of the deadbolt being pulled back. The door cracked open and dark eyes behind black frames peeked out. His heart pounded in his chest.
He lifted his hand and waved. “Hi, I’m Louis.”
The door opened a little further, glossy black hair spilling over her shoulder.
His lungs seized, and his heart pounded so loud he thought he might have a heart attack. The pull toward her was so much stronger now they stood face to face.
His wolf rushed to the surface, clamoring to be free. It took everything he had to hold it in, to keep his canines from punching through his gums and to push back the dark, coarse hair spreading across the back of his neck. Every instinct called for him to swoop her up in his arms, to wipe the wariness from her eyes and kiss the tightness from her lips.
How the fuck had Pierre stopped himself from pressing her up against the wall and smothering her in his scent? It was a good thing he was standing in the corridor where anyone could come along at any moment. That it’d been Pierre, not him, in the elevator. He wasn’t one for delayed gratification. That was Pierre’s style, not his.
This situation called for patience and subtlety.Putain. He wasn’t known for either of those.
He took a step toward her. She stiffened. He backed off, and with considerable effort, pulled himself together. “My brother and I are having a few of the neighbors over for a drink on Saturday night. A sort of introduction. We would like you to come.”
“I don’t—”
“I’m making mojitos andnoix grillées épicées au miel—how you say—roasted honey spiced nuts.”He did a chef’s kiss. And because he couldn’t help a little teasing, a little sexual innuendo, he added, “You’ll want to taste my nuts, I promise you.”
She rewarded him with a flare of heat and a quick drop of her gaze to his groin, then a flush of her cheeks. “I’ll think about it.”
Then she closed the door in his face.
