Jeanne Adams - Dark and Deadly

Paul grinned, suddenly struck by Dev’s posing for Pam. “Not all that well yet, huh?”

Dev read exactly what Paul meant, and laughed. “Good enough for some things, eh? But not for chasing wily animals in the dark, you know? The stitches don’t come out till next week.”

“Got it. I better go if I want to keep up,” Paul said as he was moved toward the door.

“Luck, brother.”

“Thanks. With this caper, we’re gonna need it.”

Pushing open the back door, Paul was engulfed in darkness. Three bouncing lights were already at the back of the property, pausing at a large gate.

“Hang on,” he called, moving quickly toward them. They waited, then went through the gate and into a long stretch of wild grass. The power line easement stretched out before them, rolling for miles as it meandered through neighborhoods and out into the countryside.

“He’s holed up in a shed over on the other side of the easement,” Carlos said. “Some kids found him and came and let me know.”

“Kids?” Torie asked, amazed.

“Yeah, they know stuff. They keep me posted.” Paul could see the flash of his grin in the dark. “I know everything going on in my ’hood, ladies. Everything. Kids see a lot more than anyone thinks, you know.”

“I know,” Pam muttered. The way she said it was striking. Paul, used to listening to jurors and clients for the meaning behind the words, had to wonder what might have happened to Pam, or what she’d heard as a child.

“Is he frightened again?” Torie asked, oblivious to the byplay.

“No, I don’t think so, but the kids, they shut him in. I think he’s just stuck,” Carlos explained.

“Okay. Do the property owners know he’s there? Should we tell them?”

“Naw. Those people are never home.”

“As long as we don’t get shot at again, I don’t care,” Pam muttered.

“Shot at?” Paul growled. “Torie.”

“Later, Paul. I’ll explain it all later. For now, we’ve got to get to Bear.”

“Bear?”

“The dog.”

“What is he, a Chihuahua?” His buddy in high school had named his Chihuahua Rambo, so he figured it might fit.

“No. He’s a Rottweiler, and maybe an Australian Cattle Dog, crossbred with a Labrador retriever. Could be some Newfoundland, too, as big as he is.”

“Holy shit.”

“Big motherfu…sorry,” Carlos aborted what he was about to say. “He’s huge.”

“Great.”

They reached the other side of the cleared area, and Carlos took the lead again. A narrow dirt path opened up to a cement sidewalk, and they were able to move more quickly.

“Let me go in—he knows me.”

“He’s gonna be scared,” Carlos temporized. “You sure you want to do that?”

“He knows me. I got him into this mess.”

“Torie,” Paul started.

“Shut up, Paul. Don’t start with me. My life is so out of my control, I can’t bear it. This, I can do. So shut up and let me.”

The three waited five endlessly tense minutes for Torie to return. When she did, she was leading the biggest damn dog Paul had ever seen. The beast was pressed firmly to the side of her leg, eyes darting furtively around. When he caught wind of their presence, he didn’t bark. He just stopped. Torie, caught off guard, stumbled to a halt as well.

“It’s okay, Bear, they’re with me.”

Her voice, cheerful and pleasant, was like a live wire to the dog. Without warning, Bear bounded forward again, dragging Torie with him. He ignored Pam and Carlos, whom he knew, and focused on Paul.

Two enormous, dinner-plate sized feet planted themselves on his lapels. For several heartbeats, he and the dog stared at one another. There was the barest curl to the dog’s lip that made Paul wonder if he was going to lose his face. Instead, a moment later, the biggest damn tongue he’d ever seen wrapped itself around his jaw.

“Get down, Bear,” Torie managed, tugging on the lead.

Seemingly satisfied, Bear dropped down to all fours.

Pam let out a long breath. “Good Lord, I thought he was going to take your face off.”

They started walking, and Paul answered her. “Me, too, Pam. Me, too.”

When they finally arrived at Paul’s house, it was after ten. Paul plopped the fast-food bags on the kitchen table and flipped on the lights.

“So. What’s the story with the dog? Is that where you were with Pam? The night your place was…” Paul hesitated, not wanting to say torched, which was the first word springing to mind. “Damaged?”

Torie nodded. She was still standing in the doorway. She looked weary and a little bewildered. Asking about the dog brought a spark of interest to her eyes.

“He’s a sweet dog, really. The owner lives next to a friend of Pam’s. He chained the dog up short, only let him have water once a day or so. We’re not sure how often he fed him.”

“He’s that big and not getting regular meals?” Paul whistled in astonishment. “Holy crap.”

“Yeah.” Torie smiled. “And he’s sweet. We think the guy was trying to make him mean to use him in fights.”

“He’d make a killing,” Paul said, keeping his face poker straight.

Torie fired up, almost immediately. “You cannot tell me you would condone…” she trailed off, catching him in the lie. “I know you wouldn’t, so what are you going to say, smart-ass?”

“The other dog would die of fright.”

She laughed, as he hoped. Together they walked on through to the kitchen. He scanned the counters, glad to see he hadn’t left anything sitting out.

“It’s clean, I think. The housekeeper was here yesterday. I know there’re clean sheets on the guest bed.”

“That’s fine. Just show me where. I feel like I could sleep for a week.”

“Sounds good to me, too,” Paul said, setting his briefcase on the floor. “But we both need to eat. You especially.”

“Is that your way of saying I look like shit?” Torie retorted, as she plopped wearily into the chair at the table, and began rustling in the bags.

“No, it means you haven’t eaten today, not breakfast, and not lunch. You’ve been shorting yourself on sleep and food, Torie. That’s a bad combo. Believe me, I know.”

“Yeah,” was all she could manage.

“Here, let me help.” He pulled plates from the cabinet, and found two cold Sprites in the fridge. He kept them for his niece and nephew, but he needed something wet, decaffeinated, and nonalcoholic. Setting them on the table, he managed to get the hamburgers set out, and the steaming French fries heaped onto a communal plate. “There. It’s not haute cuisine, but it’ll do for tonight. Dig in.”

Together the plowed through the food. The appetite he’d always admired wasn’t up to its usual standard, but Torie held her own. However, when she’d eaten the burger, the steam left her.

“I could put my head down right here on this table, and sleep.”

“You’d get a crick in your neck,” Paul observed, pushing his plate away. He’d stopped eating to watch her, and the last of the fries no longer appealed. The familiar gnawing in his gut was making the ketchup a bad choice as well.

“You sound like my mother.” Torie’s muffled voice came from the crook of her arm as she put her head down on the table. “I was right. I could sleep here.”

Paul laughed and moved around behind her. “No way,” he rubbed at her shoulders a bit. “You’ll ruin my rep if anyone sees you at the table, asleep.”

“I’ll promise you anything if you keep rubbing my shoulders,” Torie said on a groan.

Under his hands, her tight shoulders relaxed, and as he moved to her back, she sighed. Everything in his body went on high alert. Her soft moan had him gritting his teeth in a vain attempt to focus on something other than the thought of Torie’s back, her body, what else might make her moan.