2. Stranger Danger （And Other Valid Reasons to Punch People）
2
Stranger Danger (And Other Valid Reasons to Punch People)
I grappled for ideas. “How about a job that makes it less likely for you to sell antiques to minors?”
The elevator opened on our floor.
I grabbed the man’s shoulders and tried not to think too hard about how this probably counted as assault. Ellie lifted his feet and pondered her options out loud as we shuffled down the hallway.
“I liked that yoga class you took me to last week. The instructor said I had potential.”
The instructor was being polite, but I didn’t mention this to Ellie.
“A flower shop might be a good idea,” I grunted as I hefted the man’s increasingly heavy body. “You’re great with plants.”
The guy’s suit was straining at the seams, like his muscles had gotten bigger. Which was impossible, obviously.
The sound of frantic barking greeted us as we approached our apartment, the corner unit on the fourth floor. Bo’s deep voice echoed through the door in a way I’d never heard before.
“Hush, Bo!” I hissed. “You’ll wake the whole building!”
The barking cut off abruptly. That should have been a clue that all was not well with this situation.
Bo had never listened to a command in his entire life.
I managed to fish my keys out without dropping our now-feverish guest. The door swung open to reveal my Husky standing in the middle of our living room, pupils dilated, hackles raised, and teeth bared. I froze.
In three years of owning Bo, I’d never seen him bare his teeth at anything, not even the vacuum cleaner he was convinced was his mortal enemy.
“What’s wrong with him?” Ellie asked.
Bo took one look at our unconscious companion and backed away so fast he crashed into the coffee table. A high-pitched whine escaped his throat as he scrambled in clear panic, knocking over my carefully arranged stack of accounting textbooks in his attempt to get away.
“Bo?” I said worriedly. “It’s okay.”
My normally friendly goofball of a dog was now trying to climb the wall while making sounds I didn’t even know dogs could make.
“Maybe he’s drunk too?” Ellie suggested hopefully.
I shot her a look. “He’s been home all night. Unless he got into a secret stash of doggy vodka I don’t know about, this is definitely not normal behavior for Bo.”
“Let’s just get this guy inside before my arms fall off,” Ellie groaned.
We managed to get the man inside our apartment and onto our sofa. His legs dangled over the armrest.
I hadn’t realized how tall he was until we laid him out.
The overhead light gave me my first good look at his face.
“Oh.” Ellie squinted. “He’s kind of cute.”
She wasn’t wrong. Despite being passed out and drooling slightly, the guy was attractive in that possibly-murders-people-for-fun kind of way. His dark hair fell across his forehead rakishly, his cheekbones and jawline were chiseled like a minor Greek god’s, and his lips were perfectly formed and the color of cherries.
I looked closer. Yup, definitely pizza sauce.
Ellie cocked her head. “Is it me, or does his face look kind of hairy?”
I stared. She was right. The guy was definitely sporting more facial hair than when we’d found him on the steps, like he’d grown a partial beard in the time it took us to get him upstairs. My gaze found his hands.
They were also hairy. And his nails had grown oddly long and sharp.
Bo let out another whimper from where he’d wedged himself behind my grandmother’s antique sideboard. The sound sent a chill down my spine.
I slowly backed away from the sofa. “Maybe we should call the cops after all.”
Several things happened at once.
The man’s eyes snapped open, revealing pupils that looked unnaturally yellow in the light. Ellie screamed in surprise. Bo dove under the dining table.
Our guest sat up with surprising speed, grabbed my hand, and bit me.
“What the hell?!” I yanked my arm back, more shocked than hurt.
The man blinked at me owlishly. “Oh,” he said in a surprisingly refined voice. “You’re not a squirrel.” He giggled.
I did the only sensible thing I could think of.
I punched him in the face.
He collapsed back onto the sofa with a strangled gurgle, out cold once more.
“Oh my God!” Ellie’s hands flew to her mouth. “Did he just bite you?!” She rushed over, stumbling slightly.
I stared at my hand, my heart racing. Two neat puncture marks decorated my skin. They were already starting to bruise around the edges.
“Looks like it.”
“We should call an ambulance!” Ellie fumbled for her phone, dropped it, and almost face-planted trying to retrieve it.
“How about you sit down before you hurt yourself?”
“But he bit you!”
“And I punched him. I’d say we’re even.” A wave of dizziness washed over me, making the room tilt sideways. Either I was drunker than I thought or our guest had rabies. Possibly both.
Bo poked his head out from under the dining table and whined. He hesitated before rising and trotting over, making those odd huffing noises that sounded disturbingly like he was trying to talk to me.
“I know.” I ruffled his ears, trying to ignore my now-itchy hand. “This is definitely not how I planned to end my evening.”
Bo sniffed my wound and curled his lip like he’d just caught a whiff of week-old garbage mixed with essence of skunk. Coming from a dog who regularly tried to eat his own vomit, this wasn’t exactly reassuring.
The man on our sofa started snoring again.
“I really think we should get you to the ER,” Ellie said, her voice small. She looked anxiously from my hand to the unconscious man, guilt clouding her baby-blue eyes. “What if he has rabies?”
“He’s not a raccoon, Ellie.” I didn’t tell her that I’d had the rabies thought too.
“But—his face! And did you see his eyes?!”
I was too tired for this. My head was pounding and my hand felt like it was on fire. All I wanted was to crawl into bed and pretend this night never happened. Maybe I’d wake up tomorrow and discover this was all some tequila-induced nightmare.
“Look, it’s late, we’re both drunk, and I have that meeting with the auditors tomorrow.” I gestured at our comatose guest. “He’s not going anywhere.” I paused and glanced at my still-trembling dog. “And if he tries anything, Bo will probably hide under my bed, but at least he’ll bark really loud.”
Bo gave me a look that suggested he’d do no such thing. In fact, he seemed to be contemplating moving to another zip code altogether.
“What about your wound?” Ellie insisted.
I flexed my fingers. The bite marks were fading to a dull red, which seemed wrong somehow. “It barely broke the skin. I’ll put some antiseptic on it.”
Ellie didn’t look convinced. “If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.” I wasn’t, but that was tomorrow-Abby’s problem.
I made sure Ellie was safely tucked in and had a bucket next to her bed before I retreated to my room. Bo gave the living area a wide berth and followed close on my heels, like he was afraid I’d leave him alone with our guest.
“Some guard dog you are,” I muttered as I changed into my pajamas.
He huffed and burrowed under my covers, tail sticking out.
I crawled into bed, my hand still tingling. A strange thought came to me as I drifted off to sleep. I really hoped my health insurance covered bites from mysterious strangers.
I had no idea that by this time tomorrow, insurance would be the least of my problems.