Page 1 of Interference

Chapter 1

Anthony

“I thought Maine Coons were supposed to be smart.”

“Oh, they are.” Dr. Green, laughed as she watched my cat searching for his treat on the exam table. “But black cats are kind of like orange cats—not exceptionally bright.”

Oblivious to us remarking on his intelligence (or lack thereof), Bear looked around with wide yellow eyes, question marks floating above his head because he could’ve sworn his treat was right there a second ago. From the other end of the table, my other Maine Coon, Moose, licked crumbs off his paw. He’d already finished his treat, having had zero trouble locating it after I’d put it in front of him. Maybe the black cat thing was accurate. Moose was solid gray, and he was sharp as a skate blade. Sometimes too smart for his own good.

Bear, on the other hand…

I finally sighed, took pity on him, and gave his giant paw a nudge. He lifted it up and shot me a puzzled look, then snapped his gaze down and discovered the treat that had magically appeared. He immediately snatched it up and started crunching happily.

Moose, for his part, turned big yellow eyes on me as if to say, Dad, I didn’t get one. He hadn’t forgotten or misplaced his, though. He was just gaslighting me. Like I said—too smart for his own good.

And because I was a massive sucker, I dug out another treat for each of them. This time, I made sure Bear ate his out of my hand so he didn’t lose it under his own paw again.

Dr. Green just laughed and shook her head. “Makes you wonder how anyone thinks cats are boring.”

“I know, right? Never a dull moment with these two.”

“Could be worse.” She grimaced. “They could be Bengals.”

She knew of what she spoke—the sole reason I subscribed to the clinic’s newsletter was because there was always a hilarious photo or story about the four Bengals wreaking havoc on her house. My boys were handfuls enough; I did not need an army of speckled Tasmanian devils.

Now that Moose and Bear had finished their treats, I clipped their leashes to their harnesses. Moose jumped down with a heavy thud. Bear… Well, we’d be here all night if I waited for him to jump, so I just hoisted him up under my arm and gently set him on the floor beside his brother.

With Dr. Green on our heels, we headed out of the exam room and up the hall to take care of the bill.

Usually, this was when the techs and receptionists would start fawning all over the cats, which they both ate up like the little—well, “little”—hams they were. Whenever I took the boys out on walks, people gawked and took pictures, both because they were cats on leashes, and because they were huge. Bear was twenty-two pounds, Moose was creeping up on twenty-four, and neither cat was remotely overweight.

So, yeah—they turned heads. Half the time, people were so caught up in the cats, they didn’t recognize me or my boyfriend. Even people wearing Seattle Bobcats hats or T-shirts didn’t always notice Simon or me because they were mesmerized by Moose being elegant or Bear being ridiculous. Or both of them being huge.

Fine by me sometimes, that was for sure.

Today, when Moose and Bear strolled into the reception area, no one looked our way. Both receptionists and one tech were entirely focused on a guy standing by the desk.

I zeroed in on him myself, alarm prickling the back of my neck. He was scruffy with a dark beard covering his jaw, and the drab green Army jacket he was wearing had clearly seen better days. So had his jeans and boots, for that matter. His skin and hair were as dirty as his clothes, and his mismatched gloves were falling apart. He must’ve been homeless. God knew there were countless tents popping up in this area and all over the rest of Seattle.

He was agitated, too, but not in a scary or threatening way. In fact, he was pleading with the staff, and I thought he was on the verge of breaking down in tears.

“Please,” he was saying to the receptionists. “I… Look, I know it’s an unusual thing to ask. And I can’t pay much, but… I can pay. It’s just that every motel I possibly can afford is full and there’s supposed to be a bad cold snap tonight and the next few days.” He gestured down. “All I need is a place for her to stay warm.”

At his feet beside a battered and stained green rucksack, and wearing a dirty and weathered Service Dog vest, was a Doberman. She had floppy ears and an uncropped tail, so she didn’t look like the stereotypical intimidating guard dog. In fact, I might not have even recognized her, except one of my teammates had three Dobies who also had natural ears and tails.

She sat beside him, watching him as intently as everyone else in the room. My cats were maybe six feet away from her, but she didn’t even seem to notice them.

“I’m… I’m sorry.” Sue, the older receptionist, shook her head. “We do have kennels, but we have several patients staying here for observation. There’s just no room.”

“Have you tried one of the animal shelters?” Amanda, her coworker, suggested. “They can—”

“They’ll only take her if I surrender her.” He sounded as threadbare as his clothing. “And then there’s a fee to get her back, and if I don’t have enough money, there’s no guarantee—” He exhaled hard. “Please. Even if she can just spend the night in an exam room or something. Anything.” He gestured at his dog again. “Look at her. She barely has any fur. Our tent and blankets were stolen, and this”—he tugged at his jacket—“just isn’t going to be enough to keep her warm.”

My heart dropped into my stomach. He was going to put his jacket on the dog? Of course I’d absolutely do the same thing, but if they had no tent or blankets… what the hell was he going to use?

“I…” The vet tech, Daryl, chewed his lip. Then he turned our way, and he straightened a little. “Dr. Green, what do you think?”

The vet had halted beside me, and she was watching the scene unfold. She glanced at the man, then his dog. “I, um… I mean, there won’t be anyone here. She’d be by herself.”

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