The racket that woke Dez could accurately be called caterwauling. Cats. Yowling and making noises he’d never heard cats make before.
What the hell? That bloody café. He was about to pull the duvet over his head to block out the noise when he heard a crash and a yell. That brought him jumping out of bed with little conscious thought—and immediate regret as his feet thumping the floor jarred his bad shoulder. He bit down on the pain and moved through the flat in the dark, not wanting to lose his night vision by turning on a light. Streetlamps shining through the thin curtains on the living room window gave him enough illumination to find the door.
There was a lot of crashing and yelling going on now. He undid the two locks and three bolts of his front door, which opened into the dimly lit
