Sure enough, my wallet was missing.
"Alright, where is it?" I asked.
Inara alighted on the end table. She folded her arms over her chest and lifted her chin at me in challenge.
"Inara," I warned.
If anything, her expression grew more stubborn.
This wasn't the first time they'd made off with an item. Sometimes it was my keys; others my phone. I only hoped they'd left the credit cards and money in the wallet and not scattered them all over the bloody house like last time.
I pointed at the unrepentant pain in my ass. "Boundaries. Get some."
Inara's lip curled at that thought.
A quick search of the usual hiding places revealed my wallet taped to the underside of the coffee table. How they managed to transport an item that was heavier than them and then duct tape it into place was a mystery I had a feeling I'd never solve.
I shook the wallet at her. "We've had this discussion. You don't touch my stuff."
Inara kicked my key dish in response.
And she called me immature.
I set the coffee table down and stormed toward the door only to find my way blocked.
"Move," I ordered Connor, no longer in the mood for niceties.
"You promised me a trial period." He held my gaze, reproach in his.
I took a deep breath and released it. "You're right."
Connor's shoulders relaxed and his expression lightened.
"But this isn't about work," I continued, watching as wariness replaced his earlier relief. "It's a girl's night, no work involved."
At least not the sort I'd need him for. My contact was unpredictable. She might be fine with Connor's presence, or she could spend most of the night pouting. Better to go alone.
"Girl's night," he said the words like they were foreign.
"Yup." I stepped around him, not having time to educate him as to what that meant. I was already late enough. "Don't wait up."
*
I paused on the threshold of Hang Out, a local hot spot on the edge of the Arena District. It was a nightclub that also served food—because who wouldn't want to down a platter of pulled pork nachos before bouncing around a dance floor.
Tonight, it was strangely busy despite the fact it was a Wednesday.
Spotting my quarry sitting at a table that was as far from the dance floor and the sound system as physically possible, I headed in her direction.
The crowd jostled me as I forced my way through, not pausing to address the squawks of protest or the insults against the person who'd spawned me.
As far as I was concerned, it served them right. Didn't any of them have work the next day?
The thought made me snort. Twenty-nine years old and already I sounded like an ornery grandmother.
Approaching from my quarry's blind spot, I snatched the beer she was reaching for and gulped half of it down before she was even aware I was there.
The beery goodness helped wash away any lingering stress or tension from earlier.
