Takedown. Julie Miller

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СКАЧАТЬ of motion sensor that she had inadvertently set off, because no one else had entered the building behind them or come out of the apartment. She should be relieved the light had snapped on because it dispelled the evening gloom gathering in the lobby, although the corridor beyond the super’s apartment remained in shadows. She was relieved. For a moment. Deliberately focusing her senses also gave her a whiff of a pungent odor that was decidedly less pleasant than the aroma of freshly baked cookies she imagined coming from Troy’s apartment.

      Jillian wrinkled up her nose. “What is that smell?”

      “Probably Mrs. Chambers’s cats in 102. She can’t say no to a stray. You all right?”

      “Yeah, I’m fine. I think somebody needs to change the litter box.”

      “You sure? You seem a little rattled.”

      “Just tired. It’s been a long day.” A final ding of the elevator gave her the perfect excuse to brush aside Troy’s concerns. As the steel doors parted, she grabbed the handles on Troy’s wheelchair. “The Jillian Masterson chauffeur service is ready to—”

      “There you are. Where have you been? You’re late. Way late.” A sharp voice from inside the elevator greeted them before the tall, stout black woman braced the doors open with her thick, gnarled fingers.

      “Grandma—”

      “Don’t you Grandma me.”

      Jillian pulled the chair back as LaKeytah Anthony stormed out. The older woman with the purplish-dyed hair reached out to her grandson to give him a tweak on his chin and a light cuff on his ear in one smooth motion. “Dex is upstairs by himself, doin’ his homework. You were supposed to have him here forty minutes ago. Now I’ll be late gettin’ to my shift at the Winthrop Building.”

      “I’m sorry, Mrs. Anthony. I got held up at the office for a few minutes. Troy called.”

      “An hour ago!”

      “It’s rush hour,” Troy defended. “Jillian drove as quick as she could. You know there’s construction and stuff.”

      LaKeytah wouldn’t hear it. “I thought the whole idea of you drivin’ him was to get him home early. You know what I’m fearin’ when I don’t know where my boys are.”

      The idea was to get Troy to therapy, period. Saving the Anthonys time, money and concern was supposed to be the bonus. “It wasn’t my intent to worry you.”

      “I can’t get to work if he isn’t here.”

      “Dex is fourteen,” Troy argued. “He can be by himself for half an hour.”

      “How old were you when you got shot?”

      “Mrs. Anthony!”

      The older woman’s fatigue was evident as she finally paused to catch her breath. “Maybe if I’d been here to walk you home that night…”

      “Then maybe you’d have got shot, too.”

      Dismissing the sad logic of Troy’s words, LaKeytah straightened and pointed a stern finger at him. “Dinner’s in the microwave. Make sure Dex finishes his algebra.” The accusatory finger swung toward Jillian. “I’m gonna be late to clean my offices now, thanks to you. If you want to help Troy, you get him home on time.” With a grunt and a glare, LaKeytah stormed outside, letting the lobby’s double doors slam shut behind her.

      A beat of shocked silence passed before Troy leaned forward to open the elevator doors again. “Sorry about that.”

      Still feeling a sting of guilt, Jillian summoned a wry smile. LaKeytah Anthony worked two jobs, raised two teenagers and had plenty of reason to worry about her family in this neighborhood. Though she didn’t appreciate being anyone’s whipping post, Jillian thought she could understand the other woman’s anger. “Your grandmother’s stressed out about work, and like she said, she’s concerned about you.”

      “She’s concerned about Dexter.” He rolled his eyes to punctuate his mocking acceptance that he was the grandson LaKeytah had already given up on. “She just wants me home so I can babysit.”

      “Troy.” Jillian squeezed his shoulder. “It’s more than that.”

      He shrugged off her offer of comfort. “She’s got no cause to jump your case like that.”

      “Forget it.” She wheeled him inside and let him position his chair while she pushed button number 5.

      “I can get upstairs on my own.”

      “I know you can. But I promised to see you home, okay? Home’s the fifth floor.” The doors drifted shut. Let him be all tough and hide the hurt he must be feeling—Jillian was still going to care. “Besides, if anything happens to you between here and there, I don’t want your grandmother chewing me another new one.”

      “I hear that.” Troy grinned.

      Jillian relaxed. He was going to be okay.

      HE SILENTLY PULLED THE DOOR SHUT behind him and crept out of the shadowed hallway into the lobby, his senses finely tuned to the sweet scent of Jillian Masterson, despite the ammonia odor of soured kitty litter that left his eyes watering.

      A terrible sense of right and wrong burned through his belly. What he’d just overheard had been wrong. All wrong.

      He needed to make it right.

      The old woman in apartment 102 had generously opened her door to give him directions to Troy Anthony’s place. It had probably been more foolish than generous for the old cat freak to unlock her door to a stranger—but not as foolish as the woman who’d just reamed Jillian up one side and down the other for no good reason. Grandma Anthony’s harsh words had upset Jillian, he could tell. She was worried about the boy, too.

      She smiled and tried to apologize, even joked with the kid afterward, but he could tell.

      Nobody upset his sweet Jillian.

      And got away with it.

      JILLIAN SWALLOWED THE LAST BITE of the rich chocolate chip cookie and laughed as the two Anthony brothers dutifully closed the cookie jar and reached for their dinner plates to cut up their chicken. Dessert first had lightened Troy’s mood, the sun was setting and it was time for Jillian to say her goodbyes and go home.

      She plucked a stray cookie crumb from the sleeve of her jacket and popped it into her mouth before pushing her chair away from the kitchen table. “Don’t forget to study for your GED, Troy.” She winked at his younger brother. “You’ll have to have Dex help you with the math.”

      Dexter laughed. “I will if you teach me how to dunk.”

      Troy rolled his eyes and put his big hand over Dexter’s face, pushing the grin aside in a timeless gesture of brotherly annoyance.

      Good. LaKeytah’s lecture, the resulting guilt and the challenges of coping with his disability had all receded to manageable levels for Troy, and his attitude seemed fixed firmly back in the positive position. Jillian had trouble masking her own smile at his resiliency. Everything in Troy’s apartment seemed clean, СКАЧАТЬ