Angela Campbell - On the Scent - A laugh out loud pet detective rom com!

He was gonna kill that damn dog.

He held out an arm to prevent Hannah from moving further inside and asked in a whisper, “Do you smoke?” But he already knew the answer.

“No.”

The look of distaste on her face turned to something else as her nostrils flared and caught the same scent his had. She paled, and her fingers gripped the leather jacket covering his arm.

“Grab your cell phone and call the police. Go to a neighbor’s house and wait on their porch.” He pulled away from her and inched forward, wishing like hell he was carrying his gun or some other weapon. A single vase sat on the bookshelf, so he grabbed it, glad to feel that it was heavy and could do some damage if needed. His attention caught on Costello, who sniffed the air and headed down the hall toward what Zach assumed were the bedrooms. He kept a good pace behind the dog, just in case.

The mutt growled and dashed into the open doorway of one of the rooms. Zach waited for an intruder to run out, but then the dog’s whimper ripped the silence.

“Dammit.” He moved to charge forward and—

Someone rushed him from the side. Zach had enough time to see the bat swinging toward him before it felt like his brain exploded inside his skull. His teeth rattled as he hit the floor. The metallic taste of blood coated his tongue as everything threatened to fade to black.

Slurp. Slurp. Slurp.

The strange sound brought him back toward consciousness. Zach swallowed, tasted his own blood and nearly gagged. He blinked and saw a furry black and white cat standing too close to his face, licking its paw over and over again. He jerked sideways in surprise, making stars swim in his vision and a groan escape his mouth.

What the hell is his problem? It’s not like I did this to him.

The thought—more like a strong feeling than words—seemed oddly foreign to Zach. He felt pressure on his leg and looked down to see the damn dog going to town with a fury.

Gotta help him. Gotta help him. Gotta show him who’s boss. Gotta help him.

Again with the strange thought-feeling. Zach groaned and dropped his head back down, jarred his teeth.

He heard more licking and turned his head to see the cat’s tongue still taking long swipes at its paw.

Dirty paw.

Hungry.

When’s dinner?

Was the cat actually talking or—?

“Gnn-mmmm,” Zach groaned.

A second later, black engulfed him.

He should have come out by now.

Hannah shifted her weight from foot to foot as she debated going inside. She’d done as Zachary asked and called the police and was still holding on the line with the dispatcher, who annoyingly kept asking her for updates she couldn’t give. She couldn’t see or hear anything from where she stood on her absent neighbor’s front porch.

“It will just be a few more minutes,” the woman on the other end kept saying.

It had already been seven minutes.

“Screw this,” she told the dispatcher. “I’m going inside.”

“I wouldn’t advise that, Miss Dawson. Stay—” The voice ended when Hannah moved forward and a double beep informed her she’d lost the call. Well, crap. She shoved the phone in her pocket and hurried across her lawn.

The smell of cigarette smoke wasn’t as strong as it had been when she’d stepped inside earlier. She listened, heard absolutely nothing aside from the tick-tock of the clock above the mantle, and slowly moved forward.

She tried to remember where she’d put the baseball bat she’d been keeping close for comfort’s sake. Bedroom. Damn. What else could she use for a weapon? Another vase? They were in a box somewhere. She really needed to unpack soon.

“Mreow.”

The cat’s call echoed through the living room seconds before Abbot’s black and white body sauntered into view. He sat down, looked at her and meowed again. Then he rolled onto his side and gave her a sleepy-eyed look.

“Zach?” Her voice sounded loud, but she wasn’t sure if it was because of the silence or because she’d spoken higher than she’d planned.

Hannah hurried toward the cat, scooped him up and stared down the empty hallway.

“Costello?” She whispered loudly.

The dog’s head peeked out of a doorway. His beady eyes met hers, he barked and then he disappeared with a bunny-hop motion back into the room.

The curtains swayed in a breeze when she entered the area she had planned for an office. Her gaze landed on Zach’s motionless body in the floor. Costello was busy humping one of the private detective’s legs.

“Costello. No!”

Zach’s chest barely rose and fell on shallow breaths. Her nurse training kicked in, and she bent to check for a pulse, trying to find evidence of what had caused the injury. A trickle of blood was drying below his nose. His pulse was steady.

“Zach, can you hear me?”

A low groan rumbled through his chest.

Abbot sat down on the other side of Zach’s head and seemed fascinated by Hannah’s actions as she used trembling fingers to lift his eyelids and check his pupil dilation. She reached for her phone, intending to dial 911 again, but the sound of a police car’s siren in the distance stilled her.

She took a deep breath and caressed Zach’s face. I’m sorry. So sorry. Someone had been in her home again. Someone had done this to him. She felt so violated and scared and angry. Angry at herself for not listening to him earlier. He’d been right.

The person doing this was dangerous, and worse, they didn’t seem likely to give up anytime soon.

Sarah Taylor glared from across the room. “And why didn’t you tell me any of this sooner?”

Hannah shrank deeper into the corner of her new sofa and watched her best friend pace a line in the living room rug. Sarah’s ebony skin didn’t turn red in anger the way hers did, but Sarah had other tells Hannah had picked up on throughout the years. Hannah knew her usually calm and quiet best friend was livid .

Well, at least she hadn’t brought one of her brothers with her. Then Hannah would be defending herself against two of the Taylors. Heaven help her.

“I told you,” Hannah said. “I didn’t want to distract you from your schoolwork. You work a full-time job, and your mother is sick with cancer. The last thing you need to worry about is me.”

“I know you didn’t say that Hannah Michelle Dawson.” Sarah stopped pacing and pointed an accusing finger at her. “You are practically my sister, and you know you can come stay with us. We could have been watching out for you.”

Hannah grabbed the pillow beside her and hugged it. Batting her eyelashes, she feigned a proper British accent. “If you would be so polite as to grace me with your forgiveness, I’d be ever so grateful.” Sarah could never resist the British accent.

“Don’t even try it.” Her friend’s thinned lips twitched as she held up a hand in warning and spun away.

“Do you like crumpets?” Hannah batted her eyelashes. “I’ll make you crumpets if you forgive me.”

Glancing back at the sofa, Sarah rolled her eyes and relented with a smile. “Fine.” She crossed her arms. “I forgive you, but only if you come stay with us.”

Dropping the accent, Hannah groaned. “Come on, Sarah. You and I both know you and your mom have this weird phobia about cats. That’s why Abbot is locked in the other room right now. I can’t bring him into your house. It wouldn’t be fair to any of you.”

“I don’t understand why you don’t get rid of that thing anyway.” A feigned shudder jiggled Sarah’s shoulders. “Creepy-as-hell cat.”

Gritting her teeth, Hannah moved to her feet. Every few minutes she felt the need to check on that so-called creepy-as-hell cat to make sure no one else had climbed in the window and tried to snatch him again.