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All right. She definitely should not put that idea in his head.
“Let go! What are you doing? The elevator is that way.” She pointed back to where they’d come from as he dragged her toward the stairs. Cairn was behind Alejandro, looking as stoic as ever.
“We’re not using the elevator.”
“Why not? My apartment is four flights up!” She hated using the stairs. It wasn’t that she was unfit. But why choose the stairs when there was a perfectly good elevator?
“I don’t trust the maintenance on an elevator in a place like this,” he told her.
He stopped and Cairn moved past them to walk into the stairwell first. Then he returned to give Alejandro a nod.
“You’ll walk between me and Cairn. Stop if he tells you.”
She sighed, but nodded. This was overkill if you asked her, but for some reason, no one ever did. Still, she followed Cairn up the stairs. After level two, she was panting and her toe was throbbing.
“Is your toe all right?” he asked.
“Of course. It’s peachy-keen. A-okay. Right as rain—”
“Enough,” he said firmly.
“Oh, good. Because I didn’t know where I was going next.”
“Cairn, go check things,” he ordered as they reached the fourth floor.
She leaned against the wall, breathing deeply. Maybe she was more unfit than she’d thought.
“I need to do some more cardio.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Hey!” She glared at him before whacking him on the arm.
He scowled down at her and she drew her hand back.
All right, so he didn’t like being hit.
“I can say it. You can’t.”
“That’s ridiculous,” he told her.
Before she could reply, Cairn stepped back into the stairwell. “Hallway is clear, but we may have a problem.”
“What is it?”
“Door to her apartment is open.” Cairn gave her a strange look. “Looks like it’s been broken into.”
22
Cat didn’t know where to look first.
The whole place was a complete disaster. A huge mess. It looked like a tornado had hit it.
Her breath hitched. It wasn’t the loss of her things. Heck, it wasn’t like she had much. Other than Roger and Snuggly, she had nothing she couldn’t afford to leave behind in case she had to run.
Living the way she had taught her not to get too attached to stuff.
With two exceptions, of course.
Oh God. Were they okay?
“Cairn, wait at the door. Keep watch,” Alejandro ordered, moving closer to her. “Cat? Are you all right?”
All right?
No. No, she didn’t think she was all right at all. Her body was trembling, and it was getting hard to breathe.
“They’ll be okay, she mumbled. “Please let them be okay.”
She stumbled across the room, tripping over a piece of wood. Alejandro grasped hold of her, stopping her fall.
“Easy, Preciosa. You do not want to harm yourself.”
She glared down at the piece of wood. “Where did that even come from? I don’t . . .” Then she glanced over and saw some more fragments.
Shit. It was one of her dining chairs. They’d come with the apartment just like the bed, sofa, and table. Which was still in one piece. Unlike her mattress and couch, which had both been slashed.
“Cat, just go easy,” Alejandro warned. His voice was surprisingly soft and tender.
Did he think she was going to lose it? That she needed him to coddle her?
That’s exactly what he thinks. Because you are close to breaking.
And if something had happened to Roger and Snuggly . . . then she really might break.
Ever since Mama disappeared, she’d had a purpose. A reason to keep going.
But this . . . it might send her over the edge.
She fell onto her knees beside the bed. It was just a studio apartment with a tiny kitchen and bathroom. Reaching under the bed, she searched frantically for the loose floorboard. Where was it? Where was it?
“I can’t find it. I can’t find it.”
“Roger and Snuggly?”
Cat jumped. She hadn’t realized that Alejandro was standing so close behind her. She stared up at him, her breath coming in short pants.
“The floorboard. Can’t find it. Can’t find it.”
He frowned slightly, but was infinitely gentle as he crouched down and touched her shoulder.
“The floorboard?”
“I kept them there. That’s where they were.”
“They were under a floorboard?”
She wasn’t thinking clearly enough to understand why he was asking her that.
“It was safer. But the floorboard has gone! How does that happen?”
“It doesn’t,” he reassured her.
But it had! Why didn’t he believe her? And why was the room starting to spin?
“Cat, look at me,” he said firmly.
She flicked her gaze up to his eyes, then away.
“Uh-uh. Look at me. What color are my eyes?”
“Whiskey.”
“They’re the color of whiskey?” He looked surprised.
“Yes, but why does it matter?”
“It matters, because you’re on the cusp of a panic attack. What does whiskey-colored eyes mean?”
“I dunno.”
“It means I’m concerned. About you.” He brushed her dark hair back off her face. “I want you to concentrate on your breathing.”
