“That’s not necessary.”
He waited while she climbed the steps of the front stoop and unlocked the door to the apartment building. “I insist.”
He held the door open and a wide, gamine smile flashed across her face. “You think I’m going to run, don’t you?”
“The thought did occur to me,” he admitted.
Her smile faded. “You don’t know me well enough to believe this, but I always honor my promises. Always.”
“So you’re finally here, Ms. Thatcher. I’d begun to think you’d skipped.” The voice issued from the open doorway of the manager’s apartment. A heavyset man in his sixties stood there, regarding Larkin with a stern expression, his arms folded across his chest. “Do you have your rent money?”
“Right here, Mr. Connell.” Larkin dipped her hand into her pocket and pulled out the money, handing it over.
He counted it, nodded, then jerked his head toward the stairwell. “You have ten minutes to clear out.”
Larkin stiffened. “Mr. Connell, I promise to pay on time from now on. I’ve always—”
For a split second his sternness faded. “It’s not that and you know it.” Then he seemed to catch himself, retreating behind a tough shell that years of management had hardened into rocklike obduracy. “You know the rules about pets. In ten minutes I’m calling animal control. And somehow I suspect they’ll have questions about your…dog.”
She paled. “No problem, Mr. Connell. We’ll leave immediately.”
Again Rafe gained the impression that the apartment manager would have bent the rules for Larkin if it were at all possible. “San Francisco is no place to keep her, Ms. Thatcher. She needs more room.”
“I’m working on it.”
Rafe cleared his throat. “Perhaps a little extra rent will help clear this up. Would you consider a generous pet deposit in case of damages?” he asked.
Connell caught the underlying meaning and shot him a man-to-man look of understanding. Then he shook his head. “It isn’t about the money. And it isn’t about the late rent. Ms. Thatcher is as honest as the day is long.” He broke off with a grimace. “At least, she is when it comes to paying her debts. The animal, on the other hand—”
“I didn’t have a choice,” Larkin cut in. “It was the only way to save her.”
The landlord wouldn’t be budged. “You’ll have to save her elsewhere.”
“I don’t suppose you could give me until the morning?”
She hadn’t even finished the question before he was shaking his head again. “I’m sorry. If it were just me, sure. But others are aware of the situation, and I could lose my job if the owners found out I hadn’t acted immediately once I knew about the animal.”
“I understand.” Rafe wasn’t the least surprised at Larkin’s instant capitulation. She had to possess one of the softest hearts he’d ever known. “I wouldn’t want you to lose your job. It’ll just take me a minute to pack.”
Rafe blew out a sigh. He was going to regret this, mainly because it would make keeping his promise to Primo almost impossible. “I know a place you can stay,” he offered.
Hope turned her eyes to an incandescent shade of blue. “Kiko, too?”
“Is that your dog’s name?”
“Tukiko, but I call her Kiko.”
“Yes, you can bring Kiko. The landlord won’t object. Plus, he has a huge backyard that’s dogproof.”
“Really?” She struggled to blink back tears. “Thank you so much.”
She turned to Connell and surprised him with a swift hug, one he accepted with an awkward pat on her back. Then she led the way upstairs. Rafe glanced around. The complex appeared shabby at best, with an underlying hint of desperation and decay. He suspected that it wasn’t so much that the manager was lazy or didn’t care, but that he fought a losing battle with limited funds and expensive repairs.
They climbed to the third floor and down a warren of hallways to a door painted an indeterminate shade of mold-green. Larkin fished her key out of her purse and unlocked the door to a tiny single-room apartment.