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For a moment I swore he smiled, but just as fast, it was gone.
“Of course. ”
Without time for further thought, we were on the four hundred block of West 52nd Street and stopped in front of my slender yellow apartment building. The lights in my basement suite were dark, and I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
Who had I expected to be there?
Neither Desmond nor Lucas would be there like obedient dogs, awaiting my return. Nor could I expect Holden to be inside, inviting me to capture him for his mysterious crimes.
Behind our idling car, an impatient driver honked.
“You may need these. ” He handed me a familiar-looking bundle. It was my gun and the small wallet I’d had with me at the Elm Tree. The only keys I needed for anything were inside the zippered change compartment. I took them tentatively. I’d never noticed the wallet was gone. The car honked again.
“Thanks, Sig. ”
“Do not be so quick to thank me, Miss McQueen. ” His smile was unmistakable, but before I could make sense of it, I was standing in the street, smothered by the humidity of the July night. I eyed my building with suspicion as several cars sped by.
“Home, sweet home,” I sighed.
Inside, things went from odd to completely insane.
I unlocked my front door and didn’t give my eyes a chance to adjust when I stepped over the threshold, taking for granted my familiarity with my own apartment.
Once I put my gun and wallet on the table beside the door, I tripped over a pair of Steve Madden peep-toe pumps. I caught my balance before falling but was rewarded by snagging my flip-flops on the pointy heel of my strappy gold Jimmy Choo cage sandals.
My shoe collection was like other people’s art collections—a demented passion that had almost no use in the real world. My chosen career required a lot of running, and though I could run in Manolos if need be, flats or running shoes were much less risky.
When my eyes adjusted, I could see the contents of my hallway shoe closet strewn across the entranceway and spilling over into the living room. T-straps, Mary Janes, cage sandals and wedges, the shiny, expensive debris of a fashion hurricane. I plucked my glossy black Louboutins from where they’d been hurled and clutched them to my chest.
On the living-room table I noted several empty blood-donor bags. In the hall I reached for the light switch, but turning it on yielded nothing.
My power had been shut off.
Something small and fluffy passed in between my legs, and I resisted the urge to assume it was of demonic origin. The furry thing introduced itself with a “Brrr-eow?”
The tiny white kitten looked up at me, and I hugged my shoes tighter. Cats. Close enough to demons. As if it had read my mind, it began purring and rubbed itself against my ankles. Until that instant I had forgotten about who I should have expected in my apartment all along.
“Brigit,” I screamed, startling the fur-demon so badly it shot off like a bolt and hid under the armchair.
My bathroom door opened and steam spilled into the hall. At least she’d paid the water bill.
“Oh. My. Gawd!” Wrapped in one of my towels, with her blonde hair sticking to her slick, wet skin, Brigit Stewart looked surprised to see me.
The baby vampire had been assigned to me as a ward by Sig before I left. The decision had given me a pretty impressive promotion within the council, and also made the ditsy ex-beauty queen a giant, and permanent, pain in my ass.
The kitten came out from under the chair, and I kept it at bay with one foot while continuing to cradle my shoes, all while I avoided tripping over the explosion of footwear on the floor. I fixed Brigit with a deadly serious glare.
“I wasn’t expecting you!” she said, half-smiling and shrugging as if to say what can you do? I understood how, in life, Brigit had managed to get everything she wanted. I was not about to play games with her, however. If she was my charge, maybe it was time for her to start respecting my position as a warden.
“What the hell, Brigit?”
“Well. ” She eyed the scene, trying to assess it as I must be seeing it. “Umm?” Big round blue eyes and an innocent smile were all she offered.
“And what the fuck is that?” I pointed a five-inch heel at the purring, evil cotton ball rubbing its face against my flip-flop.
“Ohmigod, so cute, right? I got her from some homeless guy, and I was totally gonna eat her. ” She snatched up the kitten, almost losing her towel in the process, and for a moment I thought she was going to turn the thing into a Happy Meal. Instead she held it in my face, apparently for my approval. “But how could I eat something so cute?” The cat’s purring was loud and constant. Brigit rubbed the kitten against her cheek and giggled. “Her name is Rio. ”
I was dumbfounded, and it was only getting worse. “Excuse me?”
