She paid the driver, then dug a key ring from her pants pocket. A key? She had a boyfriend. The conclusion slunk into his thoughts like a poisonous snake. He gritted his teeth as she unlocked the entrance door and carried her belongings into the foyer. A damned boyfriend. A mortal lover. Whoever he was, he wasn't good enough for her. Did he even know what she was doing at night? There was no way he could protect her.
Angus was the only one for that job.
He clenched his fists, knowing good and well that the snake coiled in his belly had a name. Jealousy. He marched across the street, scowling at the glass door Emma had just entered. It would be locked now, but that wouldn't keep him out. He'd simply teleport— Brakes squealed, and a horn blared. He spun to his left just as a taxi screeched to a halt a few inches in front of him. The devil take it! He'd nearly been run over. Not that a few broken bones would kill him, but it would have hurt like hell. The taxi driver yelled a few obscenities at him. Angus nodded in agreement. He was a damned fool. He'd let an alleged boyfriend get him so upset, he'd walked right in front of a moving car.
He stepped onto the sidewalk to let the taxi pass. He needed to get a grip. Emma could be staying with a girlfriend. Why would he automatically assume she had a boyfriend?
Well, maybe because she was beautiful, clever, courageous, virtuous, and everything else a man could ever want.
He strode to the glass entrance door and peered inside. She'd already taken the elevator, but if he scrunched to the left, he could make out the floor lights above the elevator door.
She had stopped on the fourth floor. He glanced around to see if it was safe to teleport inside.
Bugger. The cab that had nearly run him over had stopped in front of the apartment building. Two young blond women stumbled from the backseat, giggling. The taller one handed the driver some money and planted a loud smacking kiss on his cheek. This caused the shorter blonde to burst into more giggles. She waited on the sidewalk, wavering on her shiny silver stilettos that matched her sparkly silver halter top and handbag. Her shorts were pink, and across her rump, written in silver glitter, was the word Juicy.
Angus shuddered. He couldn't teleport into the building with these women as witnesses. He pressed into the shadows, hoping they wouldn't see him.
"Come on, Lindsey," the juicy blonde whined. "We can't stop partying now. Let's go to The Hiccup and Hook Up."
The taller blonde, Lindsey, tripped onto the sidewalk and wobbled toward them in high wedge-heeled sandals that matched her turquoise purse and T-shirt. Brown letters crossed her chest, saying cute is okay, but rich is better. She planted her fists on the strip of bare skin above her brown mini-skirt. "I am never going back to that club. The guys there are a bunch of losers! I swear all the hot guys have left town."
"I know, right?" Juicy flipped her long hair over her shoulder. "I think they all left the country."
"Yeah, I think they all went to like…Pittsburgh," Lindsey concluded.
Angus sighed. How long were these ladies going to stand around, talking about nothing?
He realized there were hot-pink streaks in Juicy's hair. Could that cause brain damage?
Hard to tell with these two. Maybe he should go ahead and teleport inside. They were so drunk, they'd never notice.
"Ooooh. Look, Tina." Lindsey careened toward her friend. "There's a hot guy behind you."
Tina, the princess formerly known as Juicy, whirled around, lost her balance, and crashed into Lindsey. They both giggled.
Angus groaned inwardly.
"Ooooh, he's yummy." Tina wove toward him.
"I saw him first." Lindsey pushed her friend, and Tina crashed into a potted plant next to the door.
"Ouch." Tina rubbed the wrong hip while she gave Angus a helpless, injured look.
"Aren't you the guy we almost ran over?" Lindsey squinted at him. "We stopped so fast, I thought I was gonna hurl."
"You wish," Tina muttered. "You only drank like ten thousand calories tonight."
Lindsey leaned toward Angus, making his eyes water from the fumes on her breath. "I love your skirt. Is it Versace?"
"'Tis called a kilt. I have a tailor in Edinburgh."
"Oooh, you must be Irish." Tina lurched toward him. "I just love your accent."
"Actually, I'm Scottish." He tried to back up, but was already pressed against the building's brick wall.
Lindsey ran a long pink fingernail down his arm. "Would you like to come upstairs for some coffee?"
"Yeah, some Irish coffee." Tina snickered.