Page 17 of Penny For Your Thoughts
She chuffed her opinion as though she had tapped into my brain and read my thoughts.
“Yeah?”
Another chuff.
“Fine. Can’t hurt, right? For Tallus.”
Echo recognized Tallus’s name and glanced around as though seeking her other daddy.
“Soon. Let’s take a quick walk before he’s done.” I killed the engine, let out a shaky breath, and instead of finding my smokes—which I desperately fucking wanted—I popped a piece of gum and got out, heading inside the building.
Costa Ruiz’s office was in the bowels of the Toronto Police Headquarters building. He was the department’s information technology specialist and also Tallus’s cousin. The man was brilliantly smart and loyal to a fault. We had never been friends, but since Tallus had repaired his relationship with Ruiz a while back, I’d developed a neutral sort of respect for him. The man had put his job on the line to help Tallus, and without his forward thinking, my boyfriend would have died.
The elevator let Echo and me out in a close, stuffy corridor. Boxed fluorescent lights lined the ceiling and cast dull illumination along the gray concrete walls. Most doors were closed, and an eerie graveyard silence made me wonder if anyone was around.
Faint light spilled from an open door near the far end of the hallway. The only sign of life. As I approached, the droning hum of cooling fans and the scent of warm plastic filled the air. The dungeon’s lone occupant was home.
Ruiz sat behind an L-shaped desk, surrounded by several computer screens, pounding on three separate keyboards. A pen, clamped between his teeth, bounced up and down. Another was wedged behind his ear. The sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled to the elbows, showing off heavily tattooed arms. His black hair was slick and stiff with product. His jaw sported end-of-the-day stubble.
I hadn’t said a word or made a noise, but Ruiz must have sensed my presence and mumbled from around the pen, “Just a second.”
More typing. More crunching on the plastic casing of the pen. I noted a few dusty photographs of his family among the debris. Banker boxes lined one wall, stacked precariously high in places, threatening to topple. The disorderly state of the office felt more like a statement about his chaotic life than an indication of his cleaning habits.
Ruiz might have taken longer doing whatever it was he was doing if Echo hadn’t sneezed, her dog tags tinkling.
Jolting around in his fancy desk chair, Ruiz seemed less startled to find a canine in his office than he was at seeing my oversized frame filling the doorway. Fair enough. I was likely at the bottom of his list of expected guests.
He spat the pen he’d been chewing onto a pile of paperwork and tilted his head to the side. “Krause? The fuck are you doing here?”
Echo chuffed, as though insulted at not being noticed, and Ruiz grinned.
“Hey, girl. I see you too.” He held out his hand. “It’s been ages. Come here and have a scratch from Uncle Costa.”
“No petting. She’s working.” Echo knew the rules and remained seated at my feet, tongue lolling, eyes squinting with her happy dog smile.
“Oh. Right.” Ruiz sat back, crossed his arms, and eyed me skeptically. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure? Please tell me my cousin hasn’t gotten himself in trouble again. I’m getting tired of rescuing his ass.”
“He’s fine. This is for… I’m here because…”
I looked everywhere but at the cocky, self-assured IT specialist as I tried and failed to find the right words. My determination from ten minutes ago vanished, and I instantly regretted my decision toseek Ruiz out, remembering why I’d put it off for this long. It meant voicing the problem and owning my failures. Out loud. To another human being.
Outside of Dr. Peterson and Tallus, I didn’t do well when it came to discussing flaws. Admitting I was an alcoholic left a bad taste in my mouth—and, ironically, made me want to reach for the bottle.
“I, um…”
Ruiz arched a brow.
Fuck. Fuck it.
I went for broke. “Do you have that number?”
“Number?”
“The…” Goddammit. Why did I have to explain? Why couldn’t he remember? “At the hospital, you said… You said you knew someone… who could help me.”
When Ruiz continued to stare, I reluctantly added, “With my… addictions.” The last word came out so quietly, I was surprised he heard it.
His features softened, and he uncrossed his arms. It made me want to punch a wall. I didn’t want pity.
