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“I have to go,” I repeated.
“Do you want me to come with you?”
“As hilarious as I imagine that conversation would be, I think I’m better off going alone. ”
Ho
lden propped himself on his elbows and grinned at me. “Are you sure? I’m really good with dogs. ”
I whacked him in the face with one of my big, fluffy pillows.
“Negative conditioning doesn’t reinforce positive behavior,” he remarked through the cotton.
“Keep it up and I’ll show you real negative conditioning. ”
I pulled the pillow away, and he was still smirking like an idiot. “I think I’d like that. ”
“You would too. ”
Chapter Eleven
Holden left me to take care of my business, giving me time for my much-needed cold shower.
By the time I’d washed my hair and changed it was after ten. It would have taken less time, but Holden would have killed me if I’d undone his amazing closet organization less than twenty-four hours after he’d fixed it. I settled on clothes from the middle of the closet, pairing a low-cut short-sleeved red shirt with my dressiest jeans—the ones with cute nautical button details on the front.
Not exactly the fiercest ass-kicking ensemble if another pack of werewolves came after me, but I was still armed. My New Year’s resolution had been to not put myself needlessly in danger anymore. It was proving harder to live up to than I’d hoped—who could account for bayou swamp wolves, really?—but I was doing my part.
My part involved wildly expensive silver bullets and lots of them.
Since my shoulder holster would have shown in stark contrast to the red top, I threw on my leather jacket, dulling the femininity of the outfit about three notches. Oh well. The jacket had seemed brand new a year earlier. Since then I’d been stabbed in it, gone swimming in the Hudson and gotten demon blood on it.
Now it looked like it had been hard traveled through the front lines of World War II.
Ballet flats did their best to add a bit of girlish charm back to my look, but honestly I was wearing them because it was often easier to run in them than my high-heeled boots.
Walking to Desmond’s apartment building took a smidge over half an hour, and it took another ten minutes for me to grow a pair and walk up to the front door. The building he lived in was owned by Rain Real Estate, naturally. Before living with me Desmond had lived in Lucas’s penthouse at Rain Hotel. I was guessing after the wedding, Desmond didn’t feel like living with the wolf king anymore. I couldn’t blame him, seeing as I didn’t want to be in the same room as Lucas, let alone cohabitate with him.
The only reason I knew where the new apartment was was thanks to Dominick. He’d come by shortly after Desmond moved out to tell me where his brother was living now. Good old Dominick, ever trying to get me back into the Alvarez family. It was a forceful push I was willing to take.
Unfortunately, the big problem with Desmond living in a Rain building was that all Rain residential properties had a doorman.
“Help you, miss?” The middle-aged man in a fancy suit standing inside the door looked pleasant enough, but I was preparing myself to get kicked to the curb any moment.
“I’m here to see Desmond Alvarez. ”
“Is he expecting you?” The man was consulting a list on his computer as he asked me. Reviewing a list of preapproved visitor names.
“No,” I admitted.
“Your name?”
“Secret McQueen. ”
The doorman didn’t balk. The folks who worked at Rain Hotel had a thing or two to learn from this guy. A bit more tapping at his computer and then he glanced up with a small smile. An apologetic smile? I held my breath.
“Of course, Miss McQueen. You can go right up. Seventeen-oh-five. ” Without further explanation, he hit a buzzer, and the door in front of me made an unlocking sound.
I walked through like I wasn’t totally shocked.
