Con was relieved that at first glance she didn't look familiar. If he didn't remember her, maybe she didn't him. Con was about to set down the duffel he carried when she spoke. "Welcome home, sir." He straightened, recognizing her voice, and examined her closely. She was the youngest of Lou's girls. In that awkward moment, her return look warned him not to mention it. An ally? Without aid of the harsh makeup Lou's girls usually applied, she was nearly unrecognizable. Except for the healing green-yellow bruises around her eye, she looked like any passably pretty sixteen-year-old. When she stood aside for them to pass, she moved gingerly, as if her side were tender. Probably had a few bruised ribs. Con suddenly had the urge to beat the man who had beaten her. What kind of coward abused women? Aware that Fayth watched him closely, he allowed his indignation to show, smiled and greeted the girl, introduced himself. She responded politely in a voice devoid of recognition. Now that he looked closer, he was truly astounded at the difference in her from when he had last seen her at Lou's.
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