The stairs to the second floor were in the front of the rambling house, and she was still humming as she ascended to the top landing. Her office was not far from Marissa’s, but when she put her head into her boss’s work space, the female wasn’t there.
It felt really good to prioritize in her mind the work for the night: the reports she wanted to finish up, the meeting with the intake supervisor, and then the community meal right before she would go back home.
So much easier than dealing with the trauma of what had gone down at Havers’s clinic.
She was behind her desk, answering email, talking on the phone, about to transition into her report-writing mind-set, when she realized she hadn’t kept up with tradition.
“… think that is a really healthy solution,” she said to the female on the line. “Your being close to your family is a good thing. You need extra help and support during this transitional period.”
The survivor she was speaking with had been in the house for about eight months, the victim of an abusive boyfriend who had threatened to kill her when she’d told him she was finally leaving him after twenty-two years. Fortunately, she had had Safe Place to come to and be protected in as she had gradually unpacked all the damage from decades of abuse.
Now she was out on her own, and as for the boyfriend?
He was doing better, too.
Although that wasn’t a result of personal introspection and growth. That was because Butch and Rhage had paid him a visit one evening right before dawn.
Mary hadn’t asked a lot of questions. Actually, there had been only one: Was the bastard still breathing? When that had been answered in the affirmative, that was all she’d needed to know—and it went without saying that the male wasn’t going to be bothering his ex anymore. Not if he wanted to keep his arms, legs, head, and testicles where they were supposed to be.
“I’m always here for you,” Mary said, meaning every word. “Okay, great. I’ll look forward to it. Bye, now.”
As she hung up, she opened Facebook on her computer and signed in to the closed group for vampires only. She hadn’t checked the night before, and her buoyant mood meant, for once, she didn’t have a stomach ache as she went through the postings that had absolutely nothing to do with Bitty in the slightest.
“Nailed it,” she said as she went to—
She had almost signed out when she noticed the red-flagged number 1 by the messenger icon.
For some stupid reason, she looked around the room. Like maybe the person it was actually intended for might materialize behind her desk or maybe walk through her open door.
Mary had never gotten a message before on her account. She wasn’t a frequent FB user at all. In fact … the only post she had ever made had been the one asking if anybody was familiar with Bitty’s family—specifically that uncle the girl had talked about right after her mother had passed. The one who had supposedly been imminently coming for her, in spite of the fact that her mahmen had never mentioned him or given any forwarding address for any family whatsoever.
The one whose name Bitty wasn’t even sure of … Run, or something.
It had to be spam. Like the president of Nigeria asking her to fix a money problem of his in return for 3 million USD deposited directly into her bank account. Or an offer for Viagra or Cialis. Maybe a porn site.
Telling herself to get a grip, she was nonetheless shaking as she moved the little arrow over to the red flag and double-clicked the mouse.
When she saw who it was from, her breath stopped in her throat and the world spun.
“Ruhn” was the name of the sender.
EIGHTEEN
When Elise re-formed in the parking lot of the Brazilian steakhouse, Ignacio’s, in Lucas Square, she checked her hair and smoothed the skirt she was wearing. There wasn’t much of a breeze, thank God, so things were still where they needed to be on her head and she wasn’t Marilyn Monroe’ing the lower part of what she had on.
Which was handy because Troy was just getting out of his car and locking up.
“Hi,” she called out, stepping free of the shadows.
His smile was so immediate, she felt a tinge of guilt.
“Hey!” he said. “You found this place.”
“I had to look it up on the Internet. I don’t get out much.”
Troy met her more than halfway across the lot, even though it meant he had to double back to escort her to the entrance. “Well, considering how much you work, I can see how that would be true. And wow … you look … amazing.”
“Thanks.” Oh, God. “So do you.”
Troy had left his hair down, the curling lengths just touching the shoulders of his wool peacoat. His pants were cream corduroys and he had his Merrells on. The scarf he had artfully tied around his neck was red.
But he wasn’t Axe. And that should have been a good thing.
Holding the door open, he indicated the way in with a gallant hand. “After you.”
“Thank you.”
Inside, the scents were heavenly and thick, and her stomach rumbled in approval and impatience. She hadn’t eaten much since the night before. Too distracted.
Not with Troy.
Unfortunately.
The hostess was a beautiful young human with dark eyes and hair that was out of a Garnier Fructis ad, and after she took one look at Troy, she didn’t bother sparing a glance at Elise. “Do you have a reservation?”
“Two. For Troy? Somewhere by a window?”
“Right away.”
Taking two menus, the woman sashayed through the completely empty restaurant. Well, almost completely empty. There was an older human couple on the far side, a group of three way in the back … and one other couple.
“With it being almost Christmas,” the hostess said, “we’re having a light night.”
“Thank you,” Elise murmured as she sat down and accepted her menu. “I’m surprised you’re open.”
“I’m getting paid. That’s all I care about. Your server will be right with you.”
The hostess walked off, glancing over her shoulder to see if Troy was watching her go. He wasn’t. He was smiling at Elise.
“I’m really glad we’re finally doing this.” He drew a hand through his hair. “And I’m glad you and I talked about what … you know, if something comes of it … I, ah, I think your switching to a different T.A. position makes sense. I wasn’t going to be on your doctoral committee anyway because of my advising you, so that’s also taken care of.”
He had texted her late in the afternoon and brought up the whole professor/student thing, and Elise had agreed with him on every point—while knowing, the entire time they were going back and forth, that they were never going to be in a relationship.
There was way too much Axe in her head.
Not that she was going to end up with him, either.
“This is not to pressure you,” Troy rushed in, putting his palms up. “I’m not taking for granted this is going anywhere. I’m just glad I’ve got a shot.”
Elise smiled and opened up the heavy menu, because she wasn’t sure what she should say to that. “Oh, look at all these choices.”