“So where are we going?” she asked as he pulled away from the curb.
“My place.”
She took a second to digest that. “I thought you said you knew of a place Kiko and I could stay,” she said in a tight voice.
“Right. My place.”
“But…”
He shot her a quick, hard look. “If it were just you, I could make any number of arrangements, even with it pushing midnight. But your dog—and I use the term loosely—is a deal breaker. There isn’t a hotel or motel in the city that would allow Kiko through their doors. And I suspect the first place you tried would have the police coming at a dead run. Is that what you want?”
She sagged. “No,” she whispered.
“Then our options are somewhat limited. As in, I can think of one option.”
“Your place.”
“My place,” he confirmed.
Traffic was light and he pulled into his driveway a short twenty minutes later. He parked the car in the detached garage and led the way along a covered walkway to the back entrance. He entered the kitchen through a small utility room.
Larkin hovered on the doorstep. “Is it all right if Kiko comes in?”
“Of course. I told you she was welcome.”
“Thanks.”
The two walked side by side into the room and Rafe got his first good look at Kiko beneath the merciless blaze of the overhead lights. The “dog” was a beautiful animal, long and leggy, with a heavy gray-and-white coat, pronounced snout and a thick tail that showed a hint of curl to it—no doubt from the husky or malamute side of her family. Her golden gaze seemed to take in everything around her with a weariness that crept under his skin and into his heart. He suspected that she’d have given up and surrendered to her fate, if not for her human companion.
Larkin stood at her side, dwarfed by the large animal, her fingers buried in the thick ruff at Kiko’s neck. She fixed Rafe with a wary gaze identical to her dog’s. “Now what?”
“What does Kiko need to be comfortable?”
“Peace and quiet and space. If she feels trapped, she’ll chew through just about anything.”
He winced, thinking about some of the original molding and trim work in his century-old home. “I didn’t notice any damage to your apartment. I wouldn’t exactly call that spacious.”
“She regarded that as her de—” Larkin broke off with a cough. “Her retreat.”
“Right. Tell me something, Larkin. How the hell did you smuggle her into your apartment in the first place?”
“Carefully and in the wee hours of the morning.”
“I’m sure. And no one noticed her when you took her out for a walk? They never complained about her barking or howling?”
“Again, we made as many trips as possible while it was still dark. But I guess she did make noise, since we’ve now been kicked out.” She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Kiko isn’t crazy about the city, and I wasn’t planning to stay long. Just until I finished my search. Then we were going to move someplace less crowded.”
“Good plan. You do realize that if anyone catches you with her she’ll most likely be put down.”
“I have papers for her.”
He lifted an eyebrow and waited. “You do remember that you’re a lousy liar, don’t you?”
For the first time a hint of amusement flickered in her gaze. “I’m working on that.”
An image of his late wife flashed through his head. “Please don’t. I like you much better the way you are.” He gestured toward the refrigerator. “Are you hungry?”
“I’m fine.”
“What about Kiko?”
“She’s good until morning.”
“Come on, then. There’s a bedroom you can use on this level with doors that open to the backyard.”
“It’s fenced?”
“High and deep. My cousin Nicolò has a St. Bernard who’s something of an escape artist. Brutus has personally certified my fence to be escapeproof.”
A swift smile came and went. “We’ll see if Kiko concurs.”
He could see the exhaustion lining her face, her fine-boned features pale and taut. He didn’t waste any further time in conversation. Turning, he led the way toward the back of the house, throwing open the door to a suite of rooms that was at least three times the size of her apartment. She seemed to stumble slightly as she entered the room, favoring her left leg.