Fur Ball Fever

Chapter 9 (Scene 1)

Grace ground her teeth as they neared the Lombardis' house. It was challenging to appear unruffled but she was giving it her best shot. Nick ambled along beside her, a complacent smirk wreathing his face. He cast a knowing glance at her. She pretended not to notice by concentrating on the sidewalk.

How had she been gullible enough, dumb enough, dammit, to fall for his sneaky manipulation? He'd out-maneuvered her, plain and simple.

Oblivious of the undercurrents of tension, Murphy trotted between them. As long as he was near his two favorite people, all was well with his world.

They mounted the front steps in silence. Still fuming, she reminded herself that Miss Coco was her number one priority, calm and non-confrontational her new mantra.

She gave the doorbell a vicious jab.

When no one answered, Nick pointed out, "No one's home. You can salvage your pride."

She hammered the door with her fist.

"Take it easy on the door, darlin'. It's only wood, not my head."

She swallowed a growl. With her features smoothed into the expression of Zen-like bliss she'd learned at yoga, she pressed the bell again, ever so gently.

"I'm not buying your cool, collected act," he said. "Let's get out of here. I'll talk to the Lombardis later."

"I want to talk to Krissi." Under her breath, she muttered, "Slut."

Murphy growled, his hackles bristling, his body quivering.

Inside the house, an ominous clacking of claws on ceramic tiles preceded an eardrum-bruising, "Woof." The hollow barking grew in intensity, becoming deep and muscular. Wood shuddered under a solid thud, as if the hound of the Baskervilles had launched itself at the door.

Non-confrontational wasn't in Murphy's vocabulary. He didn't take crap from anyone or anything, even bullmastiffs. Teeth bared, he let fly with a series of defiant yips, the canine equivalent of the finger. Grace took a step backwards onto Nick's foot and bounced away. His hand closed over hers, warm, steadying, soothing.

Behind the door a voice hollered, "You out there, hold your water, for chrissake," followed by a curt, "Get the fuck down, Crusher."

There was no way Miss Coco could possibly survive inside the same house as Crusher. Truth be told, if Nick hadn't been there, Grace would have turned tail and run. She was no fool. But now, there was nothing to worry about. She had her cover story, her pepper spray, and, last but far from least, her own personal bodyguard.

Once the cursing and scrabbling abated, the door cracked open to reveal one heavy-lidded eye. In Grace's opinion an overshadowing unibrow seriously diminished the eye's Latin appeal.

The eye's owner gave an unenthusiastic grunt. "Oh, it's you."

She remembered her bet with Nick in time to restrain herself from kicking the door. She bared her teeth in a supremely non-confrontational smile. "Hey, Julius. Great to see you. Is Krissi home by any chance?"

Silence.

She knew what she had to say next but had difficulty choking out the words. By drawing in a deep breath she summoned a saccharine tone. "I owe your wife an apology. May I speak to her? Pretty please?"

Beside her, Nick disguised his bark of laughter as a cough.

After a long pause during which Grace gave serious consideration to squirming through a doggy door around back, Julius said, "Krissi ain't home."

Grace wondered if she'd returned at all from wherever she'd been headed late last night. "When will she be back?"

"Fucked if I know."

She addressed the eyeball. "Could we come inside for a moment?"

"I'm busy." The voice was marginally less hostile.

"It's real important," she persisted, trying her best to keep her tone light and flirty. Julius wasn't the brightest bulb in the string, but he might reveal something. It was worth a try. "Maybe you could give Krissi a message for me."

Silence. Longer this time.

She punctuated her next words with an eyelash flutter. "Please?"

After a long pause, Julius muttered, "Shit ... I never could refuse a hot babe." He sounded more resigned than angry. "But you can't come in. Crusher would swallow your schnitzel-on-a-leash whole. Go around back."

A vicious growl signaled Crusher's opinion.

"All rightie." Grace cast a triumphant glance at Nick, zipped down the steps, and marched toward the chain link fence enclosing the backyard.

"It's not too late to back out," Nick reminded her. "I can take it from here."

"In your dreams," she said in her calmest and most non-confrontational tone.