Part 13 (2/2)

Wearing khaki pants, brown loafers, and a long wool coat, the guy resembles a lost professor. As he nears, the wolfhound pokes his head out from under the blanket and growls deep in his chest.

The man takes his hands from his pockets. ”h.e.l.lo?” he calls all friendly like.

But my pups' hackles are up.

”I was hoping you could help me,” he says, stepping closer. ”I'm looking for my dog. Someone reported seeing him in this area.”

Bulls.h.i.+t. I wait as his gaze scans the mutts and lingers on the baseball bat in my hands.

He tries a smile. ”He's quite large.”

”Haven't seen him,” I say. ”Go away.”

”Are you sure?” He keeps coming.

I raise the bat. ”Yep.” By now all the dogs are growling.

He is unconcerned. ”Settle your dogs.”

”No.”

He is close enough to see the wolfhound. They exchange a glance and it reminds me of two compet.i.tors acting nice until the game starts.

”Settle them or I will.” His right hand pulls out a gun. He aims it at me.

A bone chilling cold seizes my heart. ”Quiet,” I order. They're familiar with this command. It's the first thing I teach a new pup. They sit down on all fours and wait without making a sound.

”Drop the bat,” he says.

I let it clang to the ground.

The man tries to comfort me. ”I'm just here for my dog.”

Yet the wolfhound doesn't seem happy to see him. Go figure. Now the guy is under the bridge and the hound lurches to his feet. The dog's ma.s.sive jaws are level with my chest. The blanket remains on his back like a superhero's cloak.

The man shakes his head as if he's amazed. ”How many near misses, Logan? Four? Five? Only you would find some homeless person to nurse you back to health. Too bad I found you first.”

And people call me the crazy dog lady.

He turns to me and says, ”His injuries are too extensive, I'll have to put him down.” He aims the gun at the wolfhound.

The urge to protect one of mine is instant and hot. ”Wait,” I say. ”Can you take the blanket off him? It's my only one and I don't want it full of holes and blood.”

The man laughs. ”I see your charm with the ladies remains the same,” he says to the wolfhound. He's careful to keep the gun out of the dog's reach as he pulls the cover off.

My pups are well trained. And while being quiet is important, I've taught them protecting my stuff is essential. They hop to their feet and attack his ankles and calves with their pointy little teeth. He yells. I scoop up my bat and slam it down on the man's arms. The gun fires, but no yelps so I swing again and again until he drops the gun. Until he rolls on the ground, s.h.i.+elding his body from my bat.

I taste the desire to pound him until he's a pile of broken bones and b.l.o.o.d.y meat. Coming here and thinking he can just take what he wants. Just like my foster father sneaking into my bedroom. But this stranger isn't him, so I pull myself together and call my dogs off.

”Go away,” I say to the man.

The man staggers to his feet, but his gaze is on the wolfhound. Odd, considering I'm the one holding the bat.

”Next time I won't come alone,” he says to the wolfhound before limping away.

That's bad. I look at the wolfhound. ”Does he mean it?”

I swear the dog nods a yes. Okay so maybe I am the crazy dog lady. I pick up the gun and unload it as I think. If I hock it, I'd have money, but no weapon. The bullets are s.h.i.+ny silver. Living on the street, I've seen my fair share of guns and bullets, but these are special. Expensive, too.

We could move before he comes back. But that rankles. n.o.body's gonna run me off my spot.

”How many will come with him?” I ask the hound. ”Two?”

A shake-no.

”Three? . . . Four? . . . Five?”

Five. s.h.i.+t. ”When? Tomorrow morning? . . . Afternoon? . . . Night?” Yes to the night. I've a day to plan, but the wolfhound gives me a decisive nod (yep, this confirms the crazy), and he takes off. Well, he tries. Poor boy stumbles after two strides. The knife damaged his muscles and he's still weak. He also ripped his st.i.tches.

Half carrying him, I bring him back and fix him.

”Look,” I say. ”I didn't spend all that time and energy on you to see you throw it away, trying to be n.o.ble. You're part of mine now and I protect mine.”

A day isn't much time so I'm at the Humane Shelter's door as soon as it opens.

”Hey, Mongrel.” Lily greets me with a smile. ”Find another pup?”

She's filling bowls with generic dog food (such a shame!). I help her feed her charges. Excited barks and yips ring through the metal cages. Lily's the only normal person I talk to on a regular basis.

”Not today.”

”Take a look at the flyers. There's a black Lab missing. Owner's are offering a hundred dollar reward.”

Lily saw my face. ”I can be your go between and make sure you get the money,” she says.

”How did you know?”

”Police came yesterday asking questions about you. They thought you have a dognapping scheme going on.”

So much for earning money that way. ”What did you tell them?”

”The truth. You're better at finding lost dogs than anybody in town. That you're providing a service to this city and should be paid.”

Lily is good people. ”Thanks. Now I really hate to ask you for a favor.”

She straightens and looks at me as if I just told her the sky is orange. ”In the two years I've known you, you've never asked for anything. If I can, I will. Ask away.”

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