Page 94 of Assassin's Obsession

After hugging me, like he can't help himself, Angelo releases me.

Mom is going to have to wait a minute.

Turing to face him, I demand, "How does my sister know your dog?"

"Cane Corsica's are excellent family guard dogs, but they are also territorial. It was imperative he learned to socialize with children and to see your sister as his friend and charge."

"That's the why, not the how." I don't bother asking why it was important to get the dog used to Cookie.

Angelo has this whole life for us planned out and in his head it was a done deal before we ever met.

Silly me, I'm starting to want to live in his dream.

Cookie looks up, her cheek wet from dog kisses and a big grin on her face. "Mr. Boomer brings Mars to my school twice a week. Me and two of my friends got picked out of the whole school to help socialize him, but I'm his favorite."

"Boomer takes your dog to my sister's school twice a week?" I practically shriek, which does in fact startle the dog.

Jumping in front of Cookie, Mars growls at me.

Angelo says something in Italian and makes a gesture with his hand.

The big black dog stops growling immediately and trots over to stand beside my kidnapper turned lover. That is such a weird thought outside of a romance novel.

Angelo reaches for me. "Give me your hand."

"Are you sure it's safe?" I give the dog a wary eye.

"I've been training him. You, your mom and your sister are his charges, but he only knows your sister and your mother's scents. He associates them with good things and his training to protect."

He's been training his dog to know and protect me and my family. Is there a word for super stalker?

"How does he know our scent?" I give my hand to Angelo.

He brings the dog closer with another hand gesture and guides the dog to sniff my hand while talking to it in Italian. The only word I catch isamica. Friend.

Mars snuffles my hand and then licks it.

"Can I pet him?" The dog seems like he wants pets, practically vibrating in eagerness to get closer, but he doesn't move without Angelo's permission.

"Of course."

I drop to my haunches and scratch the dog behind his ears. "You're beautiful, aren't you Mars? Just like your human, you're a warrior aren't you? Is that why they named you Mars?"

"You know me so well," Angelo says approvingly.

"Unless she's been hiding things from me and my daughter would not do that, she barely knows you at all." Mom's limps forward.

My heart plummets. I never should have let us stay standing so long.

Angelo notices my distress because apparently he notices everything about me and says, "Get Mrs. Czabok's chair, Boomer."

I don't know what he's talking about but less than thirty seconds later, the man called Boomer comes into the foyer riding a motorized chair. It's the most streamlined scooter I've ever seen.

We couldn't afford to get mom even a used clunky one, but I've drooled over the catalogues and I know this mobility device set Angelo back several thousand dollars.

"Sick!" Cookie shrieks. "Look at that, mom!"

Mom is looking and the longing in her eyes is painful to see. Unless someone has lived without mobility, they can never know what it feels like to lose it. Mom couldn't leave the apartment for six months when the elevator was broken a couple of years ago.

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