Lucky still didn't react. This place was huge, the couch was soft—why couldn't a dog linger a little longer? Unlike her lazy calm, Cassian was itching to head back. He thought for a beat. "Lucky, you're giving up on your human?" At that, the pup snapped her head up. Seeing it worked, Cassian added, "I'm heading home then. When I see Natalie, I'll tell her you ran away." He strolled toward the door at an unhurried pace. Lucky shot upright and sprinted after him. "Ow ow ow, ow-ow-ow!" Cassian chuckled, clipped on her leash, and the two of them got in the car. There were no other vehicles on the road, so he accelerated, and soon they were back at the complex. The market at the gate was still buzzing. Cassian lay on the horn and rolled forward. People scattered as the Hummer eased through. Just as he was about to pull inside, a weaselly man suddenly plastered himself against the front of the SUV and toppled over. "Ouch! "Ouch—hey! You hit me! It hurts!" With all these people at the entrance, Cassian had been crawling. He knew exactly whether he'd hit anyone. This was a staged crash, plain and simple.Before he could react, another guy strutted up, hands on his hips, yelling, "Hey! What kind of driving is that? Didn't you see you hit him? Why isn't the owner getting out? "Get out and pay up with some rations!" Cassian's eyes narrowed. An accomplice. It was the apocalypse. There was no law. Where did these clowns get the nerve to pull a crash scam? What were they counting on? His kindness? Cassian neither got out nor lowered the window. He waited. Thirty silent seconds. They kept shouting. He glanced at his watch. "You had your chance." Then he slammed the accelerator and drove straight over the man sprawled in front. Silence from the pavement. The onlookers edged back without a word. The accomplice flinched and bolted. He barely took two steps before Cassian yanked the wheel, hunted him down, and sent him flying. Cassian parked, looked over—one of the guy's shoes had launched clear off. There was no way he survived that.Only then did he turn the Hummer toward home. He pulled up beneath Building 6, let the dog hop out, and told her to guard the car while he started hauling supplies upstairs—one load at a time. Lucky had trained with Natalie; Cassian knew her fight game cold. Dropping a few knife-wielding thugs? Easy. A dog and a big SUV sitting downstairs drew plenty of looks from the building across the way. But everyone in the complex knew that ugly-cute mutt belonged to the psycho. Look all you want—no one dared try anything. A few brave ones made it down the stairs, ready to gamble, only to buckle at the knees when Lucky bared those jaws and rumbled low in her throat. She was too terrifying—like a short-haired Tibetan mastiff. With the pup on watch, Cassian finished moving the goods without a hitch. He was about to get Lucky back in and take the car underground when a woman's voice piped up behind him. "Hey, handsome, is this your dog? She's so cute!" Cassian frowned, patience thinning. Why so many delays getting home today? If he didn't get upstairs to cook, Natalie would go hungry when she got back. He turned—and saw a woman in a white dress, skin-and-bones. Before the world ended, she'd been a rare beauty: fine features, big eyes. Now she was so gaunt that, yes, pretty as she was, she looked a little like a ghost from a horror flick. The "ghost"—the woman—asked, all shy smiles, "Handsome? Why aren't you saying anything?" Lucky watched her, hackles up, a growl rumbling in her throat.The woman took half a step back, fear flickering in her eyes. She lived in the complex too; of course, she knew the psycho and her dog were trouble. But she had no water, no food left. She'd heard the stories of this clueless rich guy flying a helicopter here again and again to see the psycho. In her mind, that kind of lovesick type was the softest target—easy to sway. Before everything fell apart, she'd known her share of big spenders. She knew exactly what worked on men like that. Everything had its risks and rewards. If she could hook this one, she'd never worry about starving again. And with the psycho nowhere in sight? No way she'd waste the chance. She fluttered her lashes and cooed, "Handsome ... ?" Under her hopeful gaze, Cassian finally spoke. "That's my wife's dog. Since you like her, go ahead—pet her." "Huh?" Pet ... the dog? Like she'd dare. The woman stumbled back another step. Cassian's laugh was pure ice. "Didn't you just say she's cute? Go on—pet her." Flirting through the dog? That routine was ancient. If he fell for that, all his years might as well have been for nothing. Cornered, she forced a smile. "Your dog ... she doesn't bite, right?"