Tymber Dalton - Doggy Tales

She’d been looking for a way to escape when this happened. Dumb shit got himself, and his license plate, caught on security video when he gunned down his mark. The police banged on their door at three o’clock the next morning and hauled him off in handcuffs.

Genna had spent the next several hours vacillating between hysterical laughter and hysterical tears. Her prayers, answered? Or would he skate on the charges?

Genna tried to scan the courtroom without being obvious. She didn’t see anyone that fit the Sopranos or Godfather stereotypes. The only one wearing pinstripes was the State Attorney.

Briefly, she locked gazes with one man, very handsome, on the far side of the courtroom, near the jury box. His golden eyes burned into hers, and she forced herself to look away when her heart threatened to pound out of her chest. Hopefully he wasn’t family of the deceased.

She looked up as the jury walked in. Lester and his attorney stood, and when the verdict was read, Genna squeezed her eyes tightly shut and prayed Lester’s incarceration would mean her freedom.

“On the first count of murder in the first degree, we find the defendant…guilty.”

Genna didn’t hear the rest.

She must have sat there with her eyes closed until after the courtroom was cleared, because a hand touched hers. Lester’s attorney stood over her.

“You can come say good-bye to him.”

She nodded and mutely followed. She honestly couldn’t label her tears as sorrow, but at least she looked right. She felt lighter despite the trouble ahead. She could handle being broke. She’d spent most of her life that way.

She could practically taste the freedom awaiting her.

Living without fear. Not day-to-day fear of Lester, per se, because he’d treated her fairly well. Never threatened to beat her or hurt her. It was the implications behind their lifestyle and his veiled, and not-so-veiled, comments about what would happen if she tried to leave before he was ready to end things that kept her in a constant state of fear.

The unending vigilance to make sure she never overheard anything.

The ability to only pay attention when Lester wanted her attention.

Playing dumb, literally, so no one would ever suspect she knew anything.

Lester kissed her cheek. He was already shackled, and two large guards glowered nearby, ready to take him.

“Someone will call you in the next couple of days,” Lester said. “I promise, you’ll be fine. We’ll get it overturned on appeal.” He sounded a thousand times more confident than his attorney looked.

Genna nodded. “Okay. But I’m going to need to get a job, I think. Won’t I?” Another lesson learned, don’t think for herself. Always put it out there and let Lester think it was his idea. Playing dumb…again.

Lester started to protest then agreed. “Probably for the best.” He smiled. “It’ll keep you busy and out of trouble. You’ll wait for me, and we’ll have a blast when this is over, right, sugar?”

She forced a smile she prayed looked authentic. “Yeah. You’ll be out in no time, I know it.”

“I love you, Genna.”

“I love you, too, Lester.” Then, more for effect than genuine emotion, she added, “What am I going to do without you?” She hoped she wasn’t smiling through her tears.

“Aw, you’ll be okay. Don’t worry.” The guards led him away and she took a deep breath. Alone with the attorney, he opened his briefcase and handed her a bulging manila envelope.

“I’m to give this to you now. The Feds will most likely seize his assets when they file the RICO charges, so I suggest moving sooner rather than later. This should help you get started again.”

She wanted to open it, but thought better of it and tucked it in her purse. “Thank you.”

The attorney eyed her. “I never said this, but if you can find a new apartment and job somewhere else—anywhere else—it might not be a bad thing for you.”

She met the attorney’s steely gaze. “I never said this, but I already had the same idea.”

He smiled. “I knew you were smarter than Lester thought you were.”

Halfway to her car, a male voice called her name. “Ms. Pangborn? Genna Pangborn?”

Christ! She was sick of reporters and knew from experience if she ignored them it was almost worse than turning and giving them a no comment .

She turned to find the golden-eyed man from the courtroom striding toward her. Damn, he was big! Well over six feet, broad shoulders. He looked like his tailored suit was sprayed on his hard body.

“Yes?”

He stopped a respectable distance away. “May I talk with you for a moment?”

“I’m sorry, but I have no comment.”

“I’m not a reporter.” His calm, deep voice screamed confidence.

She looked around. The area was well populated, and hopefully someone would call 911 if she yelled for help.

As if reading her thoughts, he dropped his voice. “I just need a moment of your time.”

Genna eyed him. “Who are you, and how did you know my name?”

He slowly reached into his jacket and withdrew a business card, extending his arm across the void to her, forcing her to move a step closer to accept it.

“My name is Jeremy Bruin.”

She glanced at his card. Bruin and Associates, Consultants . With a local Tampa address.

“What do you want, Mr. Bruin?”

A half smile caressed his face, turning his strong jaw into a soul-melting, mouth-watering, heart-tripping sight. “I need an administrative assistant.”

He made no reference to being an “associate” of Lester’s. In fact, she got the distinct impression Bruin didn’t think much of her unofficially ex-boyfriend.

Lester hopefully wouldn’t figure that factoid out—that he was ex —for fifteen to life. She wouldn’t know for sure until after the sentencing hearing though.

Bruin’s cell phone rang. He hesitated after answering and said to Genna, “Can you come to my office at ten Monday morning for an interview?”

She nodded, still captivated by his eyes. In the sunlight they shifted from butterscotch to amber to gold and back.

“Thank you. I’m sorry to be so rude, but this is an important call. See you Monday at ten, Ms. Pangborn.”

He strode away talking, his powerful legs disappearing into a firm ass that…

She shook her head. Sleeping with the boss was what got her in this fucking mess in the first place.

Never again.

Ten minutes later, Genna sat in her car, waiting for the AC to cool it down in the scorching Florida heat. She stared at Bruin’s card.

Couldn’t hurt to talk to him. Right?

Genna easily located the large, four-story building near Raymond James Stadium. Well-maintained and tasteful landscaping highlighted the grounds. Apparently the entire building belonged to Bruin and Associates.

Inside the cool and tastefully decorated lobby, Genna started toward the reception desk when a massively large black and silver dog padded around the counter and stopped in front of her. His shoulders had to be as high as her waist, and she was a respectable five eight. His large grey eyes terrified her. Did she think he was a dog? He looked like a wolf.

The receptionist laughed. “Don’t worry. He’s friendly.”

When Genna was four, a stray dog attacked her. At the time it looked to be as big as this one, but she knew that was due to her relative size. Thirty stitches and years of nightmares later, she was definitely not a dog person. Although this…dog?...simply stared at her, testing the air with his nose. He didn’t growl or advance any closer than five feet from her.