Twenty-One
Hale
Scowling as I passed the staircase that led up to the fourth floor, I made my way to the kitchen.
Slash was already leading the way. He wasn’t about to let me sleep past seven after I’d been gone so long.
Ellen would be here at eight, but, oh, no, he couldn’t wait one more hour for his breakfast. Spoiled dog.
I’d slept so damn hard that I didn’t even wake up when he got in bed with me and took over more than his share of the king-size bed last night. But I’d sure as hell woken up when he stuck his nose in my face and began growling.
I’d checked that the cameras were all on, as well as the alarms, to wake me if my unwanted ward tried escaping and crashed out after Ellen left for the night.
The fact that Bay had told Ellen that I had abducted her and wanted Ellen’s help was comical.
Maybe she was clueless as to who we were.
Harland might not have told her. He was trying to cover his past up with us and his gambling addiction.
But we wouldn’t know that since she wasn’t fucking talking.
Slash went directly to his empty bowl and stood in front of it, waiting as if I didn’t know why he had brought me in here so damn early.
“Yeah, yeah,” I grumbled, going to the refrigerator to get his meal.
The alert letting me know there was movement somewhere went off on my phone, and I stopped and pulled it out of the pocket of my sweatpants. Sliding my finger over the screen, I opened the security camera app to see Bay was coming down the stairs.
Where the hell did she think she was going? I didn’t say she could come down here. I hadn’t said much actually. I’d sent her up with Ellen and left it at that.
Slash’s head swung around, and his ears perked up. Forgotten was his hunger as he started off back through the door he’d just led me through. Going to greet his new friend, traitorous canine.
Rolling my eyes, I shoved the phone back into my pocket and continued with his breakfast. The Farmer’s Dog packets that had been specifically made for Slash’s dietary needs were lined up for the day in his drawer inside the refrigerator.
Ellen always took them out of the freezer in the evenings for the next day so they had time to thaw.
I decided he was having the turkey meal this morning and took it out.
I heard her laughter, followed by the baby talk she was doing to Slash. He was a goddamn Doberman. You didn’t baby-talk a Doberman. Jesus.
The sound of his paws on the hardwood drew closer. Seemed he was leading her to the kitchen.
Way to ruin my morning, Slash. I hadn’t even had coffee yet.
Dumping the bag of food into his bowl, I waited on Slash to come running back.
But he didn’t. She was still talking and most likely rubbing his head again.
I tossed the now-empty bag into the trash and went to the coffeepot to get it started.
My ears trained on that damn voice and listened to what she was saying.
She clearly liked dogs. And Slash liked her. That did say something about her. She wasn’t fucking evil. Made me wonder about the lying shit.
Could we be wrong about her? No. There was no way. That hadn’t been a coincidence on that flight. The odds of it were too far-fetched.
“Oh, uh…” Her voice trailed off as they entered the room.
I finished putting a coffee filter into the machine, then turned to look at her on my way back to the freezer to get the bag of ground beans I preferred from a local place in town.
“Breakfast,” I said to Slash, pointing to his bowl.
That got his attention. He left her side and went to eat.
“What?” I asked as she stood there, staring at me.
She stiffened, and her eyes shot back up to meet mine. They’d been on my bare chest. I might be fifty, but my body was in excellent condition. I had a home gym that was used daily. I knew exactly what she had been ogling.
“You have a lot of tattoos.”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” I drawled sarcastically.
That got a glare out of her. I really wished she weren’t so damn cute when she glared. And could she at least look like she had just woken up after a really long day yesterday? Maybe have dark circles or bags under her eyes? Anything to make her less attractive.
I went back to making my coffee and turned my back on her.
“Ellen won’t be here until eight. If you’re hungry, you’ll have to wait.”
“Um, I was hoping I could have some coffee,” she said hesitantly.
I grunted in response. Sure, she could have some fucking coffee. I was making a pot of it. But did that mean she was going to stay down here? I’d rather her go back upstairs, out of sight. Much less irritating that way.