OK?"
"Remember her ear drops," Erin said anxiously. "It's four drops of vitamins in the wet food, plus one pill crushed up and sprinkled over her dry food, twice a day. She's already eaten this morning's pill."
Tonia rolled her eyes. "Next time you pick up a pet from the pound, try to pick a healthy one, would you?"
"But the healthy ones have a better chance of finding homes," Erin protested. "The sickly ones are doomed. I've got a soft spot for the underdog. Or undercat, as the case may be. Come on, Edna, let's go."
Edna hid under the bed, hissing and spitting. Erin finally managed to push her into the pet carrier and latch the door.
Tonia made a face. "I've got you now, my pretty, and I'm taking you to my lair where I'll make cat soup out of you." She gave Erin a hug. "Don't rule out what our mothers always told us,
chica
. It's as easy to fall in love with a rich man as an unemployed scumbag. 'Bye!"
Erin closed the door with a sigh. Tonia was the only one who knew about her feelings for Connor, but sometimes it seemed like Tonia enjoyed exploiting that tender spot. As if it gave her special power, to be the only one who knew. She poked at it, just to make Erin jump.
She reminded herself that Tonia was a good friend. It was she who had found her this apartment, it was she who had helped Erin move. Her other friends had drifted away when things got so grim, but Tonia had been right there, like a rock.
In spite of her strange personality quirks.
Connor eased the Cadillac into a parking space on the airport skyway level, and glanced at his watch. Erin's plane wasn't due to land for twenty minutes. It would take ten minutes or so for her to disembark and make her way to the luggage claim, where Mueller's limo driver was supposed to meet her.
Over his dead body.
His eyes fell on the sheaf of info that Davy had gleaned on Claude Mueller, scattered across the passenger seat. He'd memorized every fact. He should be relieved that Erin's mystery client checked out, but the ghost hand was squeezing his throat even harder. His instincts had never played him false before—but he'd never been in such a fucked-up state before, either. Even Sean and Davy thought he was going off the deep end. That made him feel so alone.
But he couldn't let it go. Not if Erin was at stake.
The only plan he'd come up with so far was to spirit her away from the airport without making a scene. A neat trick, considering that the old you-are-in-mortal-danger-and-only-I-can-save-you line had fallen pretty flat last night. He'd never been that smooth with the ladies. That was Sean's special talent, not his.
Thinking about Sean made him glance self-consciously into the rearview mirror. He'd made an effort today, but it hadn't done a whole lot of good. He'd put on the nicest shirt he could find, a rough-weave beige designer thing, a Christmas gift from the ever-hopeful Sean. The shirt still had creases from the packaging, and his chinos were crumpled from their sojourn at the bottom of the clean laundry basket, but that was too bad. There were some lengths to which he would not go, and ironing was one of them.
But he'd shaved. He'd combed his unruly blond mane, forced it to lie as smoothly as possible in a thick ponytail. His hair had always had a mind of its own. He should probably just chop it all off. Problem with cutting your hair, though, was that then you had to keep on cutting it. All the time. Big pain in the ass.
Oh, Christ, enough already. This wasn't a goddamn beauty contest. If he'd come here sporting his usual Clan of the Cave Bear hairdo, the airport National Guardsmen would've hauled him away before he even got in the door. Even decently groomed, dragging a beautiful, protesting young woman through an international airport was a delicate undertaking. The trick would be in that fateful split second that Erin caught sight of him.
He'd be lucky if she didn't scream.
He let his breath out slowly. He felt so damn nervous. He'd looked
"Remember her ear drops," Erin said anxiously. "It's four drops of vitamins in the wet food, plus one pill crushed up and sprinkled over her dry food, twice a day. She's already eaten this morning's pill."
Tonia rolled her eyes. "Next time you pick up a pet from the pound, try to pick a healthy one, would you?"
"But the healthy ones have a better chance of finding homes," Erin protested. "The sickly ones are doomed. I've got a soft spot for the underdog. Or undercat, as the case may be. Come on, Edna, let's go."
Edna hid under the bed, hissing and spitting. Erin finally managed to push her into the pet carrier and latch the door.
Tonia made a face. "I've got you now, my pretty, and I'm taking you to my lair where I'll make cat soup out of you." She gave Erin a hug. "Don't rule out what our mothers always told us,
chica
. It's as easy to fall in love with a rich man as an unemployed scumbag. 'Bye!"
Erin closed the door with a sigh. Tonia was the only one who knew about her feelings for Connor, but sometimes it seemed like Tonia enjoyed exploiting that tender spot. As if it gave her special power, to be the only one who knew. She poked at it, just to make Erin jump.
She reminded herself that Tonia was a good friend. It was she who had found her this apartment, it was she who had helped Erin move. Her other friends had drifted away when things got so grim, but Tonia had been right there, like a rock.
In spite of her strange personality quirks.
Connor eased the Cadillac into a parking space on the airport skyway level, and glanced at his watch. Erin's plane wasn't due to land for twenty minutes. It would take ten minutes or so for her to disembark and make her way to the luggage claim, where Mueller's limo driver was supposed to meet her.
Over his dead body.
His eyes fell on the sheaf of info that Davy had gleaned on Claude Mueller, scattered across the passenger seat. He'd memorized every fact. He should be relieved that Erin's mystery client checked out, but the ghost hand was squeezing his throat even harder. His instincts had never played him false before—but he'd never been in such a fucked-up state before, either. Even Sean and Davy thought he was going off the deep end. That made him feel so alone.
But he couldn't let it go. Not if Erin was at stake.
The only plan he'd come up with so far was to spirit her away from the airport without making a scene. A neat trick, considering that the old you-are-in-mortal-danger-and-only-I-can-save-you line had fallen pretty flat last night. He'd never been that smooth with the ladies. That was Sean's special talent, not his.
Thinking about Sean made him glance self-consciously into the rearview mirror. He'd made an effort today, but it hadn't done a whole lot of good. He'd put on the nicest shirt he could find, a rough-weave beige designer thing, a Christmas gift from the ever-hopeful Sean. The shirt still had creases from the packaging, and his chinos were crumpled from their sojourn at the bottom of the clean laundry basket, but that was too bad. There were some lengths to which he would not go, and ironing was one of them.
But he'd shaved. He'd combed his unruly blond mane, forced it to lie as smoothly as possible in a thick ponytail. His hair had always had a mind of its own. He should probably just chop it all off. Problem with cutting your hair, though, was that then you had to keep on cutting it. All the time. Big pain in the ass.
Oh, Christ, enough already. This wasn't a goddamn beauty contest. If he'd come here sporting his usual Clan of the Cave Bear hairdo, the airport National Guardsmen would've hauled him away before he even got in the door. Even decently groomed, dragging a beautiful, protesting young woman through an international airport was a delicate undertaking. The trick would be in that fateful split second that Erin caught sight of him.
He'd be lucky if she didn't scream.
He let his breath out slowly. He felt so damn nervous. He'd looked
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