Chapter 2
Trisha Macintyre really, really wanted a shower.
She’d spent the afternoon trying to direct three hulking brutes—all of whom were badly in need of some quality time with a shower themselves—who seemed determined to give her a heart attack as they slung her meager possessions from the moving van, up the stairs, and into her new apartment. She was hot, parched, and ready for a nap.
The harsh chemical odors of new wood paneling, floor glue, and latex paint promised to send her to bed with an extra pain pill, but hopefully the open windows and ceiling fans would clear the worst of it out for a while. Didn’t do anything for the rubbery taste in her mouth, though.
The growls, howls, and barks from the bedroom weren’t helping her growing headache. Janie, her two-year-old pit bull gi
