CHAPTER ELEVEN

Billboard woke to the sound of his phone ringing, and groaned.

Dammit. The only reason his device would be going off after he’d managed less than an hour of sleep time, was if there were an emergency at work.

He grabbed for his phone and squinted at the screen.

What the fuck ?

Not the office.

O’Shea.

He stabbed the button. “What’s wrong?”

There was a snort.

“Uh, not what you might imagine,” she came back with a bit of a forced laugh.

Billboard’s shoulders relaxed. If O’Shea sounded even semi-amused, she couldn’t be under attack. He lay back in bed, placing one hand beneath his head to stare at the darkened ceiling.

“I have a great imagination,” he returned. “But even so, I can’t figure out why you’re calling me an hour and a half after we parted ways. Unless you miss me.” He meant it as a joke, but it came out sounding a little too serious.

“Aww, Billboard,” O’Shea replied, clearly hearing some kind of need in his voice. “Of course I miss you. Wasn’t I the one who wanted to drag you kicking and screaming into my boudoir?”

Now Billboard snickered. “Your…boudoir?” he responded amusedly. “I’m not sure I even know what that is, but it sounds…interesting.”

O’Shea snorted. “Right. Interesting. If it had interested you at all , you’d be naked in my bed right now, and I wouldn’t have the problem I called about.”

Billboard sat upright, his nerve endings on alert again. “You have a problem?”

“Yeah. I do,” she admitted with a huff, “and I’ve named her Zoe.”

“You’ve… Uh, O’Shea? Maybe you should start at the beginning.”

Billboard had to be a little sleep-fuddled because he wasn’t reading the situation at all.

“Right,” O’Shea sighed. He could hear her pacing. “So after you left, I realized I didn’t have any good chocolate in my room. The mini bar has some generic shit that I wouldn’t feed to a goat, so I decided to go out and find something decent.”

Billboard growled. “You went—?"

“Down, boy,” she cut him off. “You know I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself if any thugs in Boston stupidly decided I looked like fresh meat.”

Billboard grunted, but only to keep himself from reading her the riot act.

“Anyway, the valet at the door told me about a possible place down the street, which turned out to be really, really good. They actually carry three kinds of chocolate I’ve never even heard of before. So of course I picked up—”

“Uh, O’Shea?” Billboard interrupted. “It’s all good about the chocolate, but it, uh, sounds like you might have eaten it all. Can we get to the point?” He didn’t mean to be gruff, but he knew O’Shea could ramble even without the caffeine. To get his seven hours of sleep so he could function at work the next day, was important. He needed her to speed things up.

“Right. Sorry.” She changed gears. “I was on the way back, when I heard a noise down an alley.”

Billboard was back to growling again.

O’Shea ignored him. “It was a small, plaintive sound, and I was curious. What kind of creature was so pathetic? I couldn’t just ignore it.”

Billboard wouldn’t point out that it could have been criminals making the noises, trying to lure her in. But since she’d mentioned that she’d named the distraction “Zoe”, he couldn’t imagine a local perp wanting to be blessed with that moniker, and he let her continue.

“Anyway, I crept down the alley with my phone’s flashlight on, and found Zoe. She’s a cat. And… Now I’m not sure what to do with her.”

A cat.

Billboard was shaking his head, about to rip into O’Shea for her carelessness, when his ears were suddenly assailed by an outraged yowl. It was loud.

“See?” O’Shea’s voice held an edge of panic. “She’s been doing that, off and on, since I brought her in, and I have no clue what’s wrong.” O’Shea seemed at a loss, and that wasn’t like her at all.

“Okay,” Billboard let his anger go, and thought for a moment. “Do you have food for her?”

“I do. Two cans, one of which she devoured. And I bought treats.”

That was all good. Billboard pondered again.

“Maybe she needs a litter box?”

“Nope,” O’Shea came back decisively. “I’ve got that covered, too. Remember the valet? In exchange for candy bars, he helped me smuggle Zoe up to my room, then came up with a cardboard box and some sand. Don’t ask me where he got it, I think it was left over from the days when they had public ashtrays in the halls. You remember those, right? The things that were filled with sand for smokers to tamp out their cigarettes? Anyway, he said he got the make-shift supplies from the basement.”

Billboard chuckled. Leave it to O’Shea to come up with the most convoluted procurement possible , and for charming the impressionable young man into doing her bidding.

“Well, okay then. Has the cat used her box?” he questioned.

The reply was immediate. “Yup. Twice. And boy can my new girl stink up a room. I had to scoop that shit out immediately and flush it. I managed that with the room’s ice bucket, and of course I won’t be utilizing that container for ice, anymore. As a matter of fact, I’ll smash it and put it in the waste bin once I’m through with it, just in case the hotel uses them over again.”

“Uh, O’Shea?” Billboard needed to get her back on track.

“Yeah, Billboard?”

“Have you ever had a cat before?”

“No.” Her voice softened. “Zoe is my first. And she’s so sweet…when she’s not crying. What am I doing wrong?”

“Nothing,” he tried to assure her. “Zoe is probably just freaked out that she’s in a new place, and she’s letting you know of her discomfort.”

Billboard had grown up with cats. His mother still had two ancient tabbies living with her on her side of their duplex. Billboard, since his breakup with Peggy, had been thinking of hitting up a shelter and getting one for companionship, but he just hadn’t gotten around to it. Maybe…

The yowling on the other end of the line intensified.

“Damn, Billboard,” O’Shea lamented. “She’s really loud, and I’m afraid one of my neighbors is going to complain, and I’ll get my ass kicked out. Then where will Zoe and I go? We’ll both be homeless.”

Billboard snorted. “Calm down, O’Shea. Like any one of the team would let that happen.” Nope . That was a no-brainer, but…it had to be him. He’d be damned if he let Perk get a shot at having O’Shea as a roommate. “Listen, O’Shea. Pack your shit. I’m coming to get you and your new friend. You can stay with me.”

“Really?” she asked, relief in her voice.

“Really,” he agreed. “I’ll call you when I get there. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

“Thanks, Billboard,” O’Shea heaved a sigh of relief. “I owe you.”

Billboard grunted. He could think of a lot of things he wanted from O’Shea, but seeing as she’d already pretty much offered him carte-blanche and he’d turned her down, it was his own fault he wouldn’t fish his wish.

“Fifteen minutes, O’Shea,” he returned abruptly, and hung up.

Damn. It was going to test all his fortitude, having that delectable woman sleeping in the room right across the hall from him. Every last one of Billboard’s nerves-of-steel were going to be sorely tested.

The traffic, once he backed out of his garage, was almost non-existent. He’d expected that this time of night. He pulled up in front of the hotel twelve minutes later. He got out of his Bronco, and the first thing he did was approach the valet.

“I heard you helped my friend out with her cat problem.”

The youth’s eyes grew wide. “You…you’re not going to report me, are you?” his voice cracked.

“No. I’m going to thank you, and ask you to watch my vehicle while I go in and get her and her new friend out. They’ll be leaving for good, so you won’t have to put your job on the line for them again.” He held out a twenty-dollar bill, which the kid happily took.

“Thank you, sir,” he said with a relieved smile.

Billboard gave him a chin lift, turned, and called O’Shea.

“I’m here,” he said, when she picked up.

“I’m on my way down.”

It sounded like she was having a struggle.

“You need help?” he asked. He didn’t know how much luggage she had, or how well her new charge was behaving.

“I’m good,” she told him, a little out of breath. “It’s just that…I’ve stashed Zoe inside my zip-up-sweatshirt, and she’s not exactly happy.”

Damn. That meant scratches and…

Billboard hadn’t thought about the cat’s origins. What if it was feral? What if it bit her?

He sped into the hotel lobby and was just about to push the elevator button when the doors slid open, and a flustered looking O’Shea walked out. Her cheeks were pink with exertion, and it looked like she was about eight months pregnant…with a squirming baby.

He tried to tamp down both his concern and his amusement. “I’ll take your bags.”

He reached for the burden in each of her hands, unable to keep the reprimand on his lips from slipping out. “You keep that devil contained, and try not to get scratched.” He also couldn’t help the next words that flew from his mouth, either, as they both started walking toward the doors. “You have no idea what she might have picked up for diseases on the street.”

O’Shea, per her norm, waved off his concerns. “What will I do with Zoe while I check out?” she asked.

Billboard huffed. “Let’s get her in the car along with your luggage, then you can go do your paperwork.”

“Good plan,” she answered.

She followed him the few steps out to the front where his vehicle was waiting, and the valet pretended to ignore them.

It took some doing, but finally the cat, Zoe—Billboard rolled his eyes that O’Shea had already given the beast a name—detached her claws from the inside of O’Shea’s shirt, and was able to be wrestled into the back seat. Billboard slammed the door behind her, foiling an attempted escape. Only then did he turn to the frustrating woman beside him and rail at her for real this time. “What were you thinking, O’Shea? That cat might have rabies. Sane people don’t take risks in dark alleys. Sane people don’t bare-handedly and without proper equipment, pick up strays.”

She got a mutinous look on her face, and he knew he was in for some sass.

“ I do,” she snapped at him. “And if you’re being a prick because you hate cats; that you believe she’s too much for you to handle, I can call Mizzay right now. I’m sure she’ll let me stay the night until I can find accommodations elsewhere that accept pets.”

“No,” Billboard answered with a growl. “I’m fine with cats. I had them growing up. But…” He knew he needed to tread softly. O’Shea had her back up.

He sighed. “Okay. Here’s the deal. You’ll both stay with me, but first thing in the morning we’re bringing her to a vet and having Zoe checked out. Deal?”

“Deal,” O’Shea responded, her smile popping out. “I wanted to get her looked at, anyway.”

“She might have a chip,” Billboard speculated. “She looks a little rough, and is skittish, but seems friendly enough other than that. She might be lost.”

O’Shea nodded. “That’s kind of what I was thinking. She just doesn’t appear to be your run-of-the-mill, stray. She looks like a special breed of something.”

“She could be.” Billboard would withhold judgement. He hadn’t gotten a really good look at the feline yet.

O’Shea seemed happy enough with that.

“Now let me go talk to the front desk clerk, then we can get moving.” She spun away before quickly turning back. “And thank you, Billboard.” She sounded sincere. “I’m sorry I woke you up and screwed with your sleep. I meant it when I said I owed you one.”

He didn’t want to think about how he’d like to collect that debt. That was a slippery slope.

“No problem,” he coughed. “Now finish up.”

He watched her walk back into the lobby, the sway of her fine ass mesmerizing him until he noticed that the valet was regarding him watching, a grin on his pimply face.

Billboard grunted. “Mind your business.”

The young man put both hands in the air, then went back to some non-existent paperwork at his station. Smart kid.

Billboard approached his car again, not knowing what he’d be confronting when he got inside, but slowly easing his door open, he saw that the cat was already curled up on the front seat where O’Shea would sit, sound asleep. He slid in and regarded the gray, matted puss with a critical eye.

“You better behave, or you’ll find yourself in a shelter,” he warned.

The cat opened one golden orb and regarded him as if he were someone to be ignored.

Billboard chuckled. “Yup. Typical cat.”

That’s when the purring commenced, and Billboard sighed. Well, shit. He was going to own a cat.

O’Shea made short work of checking out, and quickly joined Billboard in the Bronco, easily scooping Zoe off the seat while getting in, to settle the warm bundle on her lap. The puss barely budged, kneading O’Shea’s lap once or twice before settling back to her nap, while O’Shea donned her seatbelt.

“Isn’t she sweet?” O’Shea cooed, patting the curly fur on the kitty’s head.

“Maybe,” Billboard gave a neutral reply. “You, uh, said she was a little wild in the hotel?”

“Well, you said she was just out of sorts because she was in a strange place, and I agree. Besides, it was a hotel ,” she added.

Like the cat could tell one set of walls from another, but Billboard wasn’t going to argue. He had another question, instead. “What did you do with her make-shift litter box?”

O’Shea ducked her head, looking a little sheepish. “Well, I, um, first made sure it was clean, then I…kind of abandoned it for housekeeping. But I wrote them a note, apologizing. I just didn’t explain what it was used for because I didn’t want my brother getting in trouble or being charged extra. Then I left a hefty tip.” She chewed on her lip. “Do you think that’s alright?”

Billboard laughed. “I’m sure you covered all your bases. And I’m absolutely certain that housekeeping has seen far worse.” One of his mother’s jobs when he’d been young had been room cleaning, and he’d heard his share of horror stories.

But…speaking of his mother…

“My mother keeps spare cat supplies in the garage, and I’m certain she has an extra box and litter.”

“That’s good,” O’Shea smiled, patting the content kitty. They both seemed settled, and that made Billboard happy, except…

Shit. How the hell was he going to explain his new roommate to his mother without getting her all excited? Mom had been after him for several years to find a nice girl and settle down; that the right woman would smooth out all his rough edges and make life worth living. Yeah. Even she’d known that Peggy hadn’t been the one.

Now, with O’Shea, would Billboard’s astute matriarch recognize his interest?

Yeah. His mother would have him dead-to-rights. She’d always been able to see through him. In good times and in…

Billboard sighed.

There’d been plenty of bad for her to witness. She’d known he’d been severely depressed after he left the Marines; before he joined SOS. She’d lamented his condition. She’d badgered him to seek help. But he’d rebuffed all her overtures, which had frustrated her no end. His only joy, at that point in his life, had been the times when he’d headed south to an airfield where he’d been cleared to rent and fly one of their helicopters. The freedom of being in the air had allowed him to breathe, and recharge; to survive his empty days.

Eventually, however, it was his mother’s constant meddling orchestrations that had procured him his job with SOS. She worked in an office in the same building as Del’s company, and had heard through the grapevine that the man was looking for a receptionist. Not exactly a job that was in Billboard’s wheelhouse, but to placate his mother, he’d set up an interview.

What he hadn’t expected when he’d walked in, was the spitfire, Mizzay, stepping on his toes to vie for the same position. Suddenly, it had become important for him to win the job, if just to prove to himself he wasn’t a total loser.

When it became clear that the mysterious Mizzay had more credentials up her sleeve than anyone could have imagined, he’d almost lost himself in a funk again until Del had proposed that he become part of the SOS team as an operative.

That opportunity, along with the shrink Mizzay had found for him, had saved his life. He was certain of that.

And now there was O’Shea. And Zoe.

His mother would be over the moon.