Page 17 of Dead Pretty

I let out a laugh that is half-relief, half-embarrassment at my own behavior.

Jesus, I’m such a mess.

“Christ, Eleven.”

She’s already sitting up on my sofa, looking pleased with herself.

“You scared the crap out of me.” I run a hand over my hair. Grab my phone off the floor, push it in my back pocket, and shut the door, locking it.

I walk over to the sofa and pick her up. “What the heck are you doing out again? Where’s your dad, huh?”

She purrs and nuzzles my face.

“It’s a good thing you’re cute,” I tell her. “Come on. Let’s go take you back to your dad.”

I make sure to go turn the bath taps off. The last thing I need is to flood my apartment.

The trepidation is still there when I open the door to exit my apartment. I think it will always be there.

I lock up and head for Jack’s apartment.

I’m going to see Jack.

A frisson of excitement bounces around in my stomach.

I immediately squash it down.

I’m just going to return Eleven and then go back to my apartment and finally take my bath.

I notice Jack’s apartment door is slightly ajar as I approach.

My heart stills at the same time my legs do.

Seriously, isn’t one stressful situation at a time enough?

Okay, so it was the cat.

And it could be the cat again. Maybe she let herself out of the apartment.

Cats can do that, right? Open doors and shit? They’re smart. And Eleven is definitely smart.

“Did you open the door, Eleven?” I look down at her, like she’s actually going to answer me.

Her response is to butt my chin with her head.

I take a deep breath and walk toward Jack’s door, stopping before it.

“Hello?” I call out. “Jack? You there?”

Nothing. It’s silent in his apartment too. No sounds coming from there at all.

“Why me, huh?” I say to Eleven, who looks as if she has zero cares in the world—and she has exactly that because she’s a cat.

Frigging wish I were a cat right now.

Stepping closer to the door, I push it open with the hand not holding Eleven.

“Jack!” I call out.