«Really? I live on Fellows too, number 1322,» he said. «What's your address?»

«1315. We've only been here a week.»

«Well, we're neighbors! I'm almost directly across the way from you!» Mark Cannon informed, inwardly weighing what might be a stroke of luck. Beyond that, she had a very pleasing voice, young and gentle, not the hard, expected type that inhabited this grubby area. Down on her luck, maybe … or perhaps, just a smoother operating whore. Whatever she was made little difference for his purposes … if she was cooperative … and if he could trust her. That could take time to determine … maybe too much time … Christ, if he could only see her …!

«It's not a very nice neighborhood, is it, Mr. Cannon,» Carol said.

He grinned. «Not exactly the place where I'd let my wife walk the streets unescorted … if I had one. You said you've only been here a week. You mean in Westland, or Los Angeles?»

«Both. I'm from San Francisco. I rented the apartment sight unseen from a newspaper ad, never dreaming that the Westland section could be like this,» Carol replied, simultaneously clocking in her mind the fact that he was not married. «It fit my budget … but as soon as I'm lucky enough to find a job, I intend to move. Like you said, I wouldn't dare walk these streets without Sultan beside me.»

Hearing his name mentioned, the big animal looked up toward his mistress, then back to the female of his own kind who was completely ignoring him. If only he dared move closer and explore the smell of her, but instinctively he knew that for some reason this would not he right. There was something different about her which he could not understand, and again he whined in perplexity.

«Shhh, Sultan,» Carol ordered, well aware of his interest and the natural reasons behind it. «I'm afraid you'll have to resign yourself to being snubbed. The young lady isn't interested in your attentions …»