Read Online The Lost by Caridad Piñeiro - Free Book Online Page A

At the door, Bobbie looked down at him and said, “Have they tossed you out again, Tweety?”
    Tweety? What kind of sick person would name a cat Tweety? he thought, a second before Bobbie bent and started rubbing the top of his head. Almost instinctively he craned his neck upward, urging her hand behind his ear as she continued petting him.
    Heaven, he thought, enjoying the feel of her short nailsagainst his fur. He began to purr and then butted his head against her leg, wanting more.
    “You’re a good girl,” she said and stroked her hand along his back.
    He twined around her legs and Bobbie gave him one last pat before she stood. “Sorry, Tweety. It’s time to go in.”
    “In” being exactly where he wanted to be. With a big meow, he plopped back down and she opened the door, totally focused on maneuvering through with her bags and cane. So focused that he was able to sneak through the entrance just a second before the door closed.
    But Bobbie realized he had followed when she was in the hallway, scooped him up, and said, “Let’s get you home.”
    She tucked him tight to her side, his head pressed close to her breast, and he imagined staying there forever. So did the cat within him, which hinted at the fact that this wasn’t the first time Bobbie had come to the feline’s rescue.
    The close proximity to her had him battling for control. She was soft and warm, but also strong beneath the feminine veneer. The warrior, he thought again, intrigued by the dichotomies Bobbie presented.
    But there was also another thing drawing him near—the aura he had sensed earlier. It was both comforting and intoxicating and was creating a synergy he was finding difficult to ignore. Inside him, his core did a slow whirl and he fought it back, needing to maintain control to keep his altered shape.
    Bobbie stopped at a door on the lower floor of the condo and knocked.
    No answer.
    She waited for a minute or so and then knocked again.
    When there was no response, she mumbled, “Some people shouldn’t have pets.”
    With him tucked against her, she continued to the end of the hall and a small elevator where they rode up to the third floor. Her condo was in the middle of the building and she placed him on the ground to enter. When the door opened, the cat’s instincts acted before he could, and he darted into the room.
    “Make yourself at home,” she teased, the laughter evident in her voice.
    He quickly snuck to a spot beside the sofa, where he sat and watched as she efficiently emptied the bags and put away the few groceries she had purchased. When she was done, she headed down a hall, and soon the sound of running water drifted out.
    Strangling the thought of her beneath the water, he allowed himself to explore her home.
    It was like visiting the tropics after leaving Antarctica.
    Unlike the gleaming steel and cold stone environment in the SolTerra offices and his home, Bobbie’s condo was animated by color and life. A bouquet of lively pink tulips in a bright sea-blue vase sat in the middle of a bistro table near the kitchen.
    On a low wall unit that delineated the area between dining room and living room were framed photos. He jumped up onto the wall for a better look, acrobatically landing on the far edge before delicately winding around the frames on its surface and examining each one.
    Bobbie and her family. A group photo of soldiers in uniform along a broken cement fortification. The platoonwith which she had served, he assumed. Wedding photos of two different couples. With the physical resemblance of the groom in one and the bride in the other, he had no doubt they were her older siblings.
    He plopped down and surveyed the rest of the area from his perch on the wall unit, from where he caught sight of the various prescription bottles on the surface of the breakfast bar. He jumped down, determined to find out more, and then leaped up to a stool by the bar before taking another, shorter jump onto the counter. As he peered