Page 19 of Ryder

I had a choice. I could hop back in my truck and take off after him, or I could tend to the defenseless puppy. Without much deliberation at all, I chose the puppy.

Tearing the rest of the bag away, I inspected the tiny creature. It didn’t take long to discover that the puppy only had three legs—two front ones and the back right. From what I could tell, it looked like the missing limb was a birth defect and not the result of some sort of accident or mistreatment. Checking underneath, I saw the puppy was male, his tiny tail tucked under when I scooped him up.

He looked to only be around six weeks old, yet there was an old soul to this dog as I stared into his eyes. It was the oddest moment, but I swore to Christ I bonded with the little bastard, right there on the side of the road. While I wasn’t sure exactly what breed of dog he was, his coloring was quite unique: gray and white fur covered his body, with a black patch circling his left eye.

Walking back to the truck, the little guy tucked close to me, I grabbed a blanket Jagger had in the back and threw it over the passenger seat before climbing back behind the wheel. Turning over the ignition, I gently placed the puppy on the blanket.

He started to shiver, so I put my hand over him. Surprisingly he stopped, licking his little lips before closing his eyes, as if he knew I wouldn’t harm him.

I drove the rest of the way to the club with a discarded, three-legged animal next to me and an odd feeling of affection in my heart.

Ryder

Striding through the doors of the club, I hid the puppy underneath my cut. The morning air was crisp and the poor guy had been through enough; the least I could do was try and keep him warm.

No one was out in the common room, and the door to Chambers was wide open.There was a strong possibility some of the guys were sleeping in one of the rooms in the back. There were plenty of designated spaces for us to crash if we needed to. A night of overindulgence or a fight with an ol’ lady—whatever the reason, all the men had a place to stay if the occasion called for it.

Disappearing into the kitchen, I rooted around for something edible I could feed the pup. What the hell did I even give him? We certainly didn’t have any puppy chow on hand. Opening the refrigerator, I saw some leftover fried chicken, so still holding tightly to the dog, I wrangled the plate from the shelf, kicked the door closed and set up on the counter.

A whimper escaped the little creature when I removed the saran wrap from the dish, my own stomach rumbling from the smell. It was then I realized I hadn’t eaten since early the day before, choosing to drown myself in alcohol instead of food.

“I know, little buddy. Just give me a minute.” Deeming I needed the use of both hands, I found a dishtowel near the sink, folded it to create a little cushion and placed the puppy on top, far enough back on the counter that he wouldn’t fall if he decided to become a bit lively.

“Talkin’ to your dick again, are ya?” a gravelly voice sounded behind me, shuffling feet approaching before I had a chance to recognize the voice.

Hawke.

He sidled up next to me and peered over my shoulder. “Well if I was, what’s your excuse for trying to sneak a peek?”

“You wish.” He took a step back and leaned his hip against the counter. Wearing an old KISS T-shirt and boxer shorts, Hawke looked a little worse for wear, his dark hair sticking out all over the place and a pillow line running down the entire length of his cheek.

“Rough night?” I teased, my hands busy tearing the chicken from the bone and putting aside small pieces for the pup.

“You could say that?” he gruffed, narrowing his eyes at me while he watched me destroy the food. “What are you doing? Isn’t it a little early for leftovers?” Running his hand through his hair and making it worse, he pushed off the counter and grabbed some orange juice from the fridge. Chugging back a few gulps straight from the carton, he wiped his mouth afterward before putting the drink back in the fridge.

Hawke still hadn’t seen the surprise visitor sitting patiently on the counter next to me. Not until he heard him whimper.

“What was that?” His confusion was comical. Looking all around the room first, he glanced up at the ceiling as if something was gonna drop down on top of us.

The puppy whimpered again. Before Hawke started shouting for me to tell him what was making the noise, scaring the dog in the process, I moved out of the way so he could see the little guy.

“Some asshole threw him out of his car while driving in front of me.” I didn’t have to say any more before Hawke approached the puppy with his hand out so the dog could smell him, a goofy smile appearing as he gently pet the puppy’s head.

“I can’t believe someone would do that. That’s seriously fucked up.”

“You’re tellin’ me.”

“What are you gonna do with it?” he asked, picking him up so he could get a better look. It was then he noticed the puppy was missing one of his back legs. “What the hell?” he shouted, startling the little guy. “Did they cut it off?” He turned the creature from side to side, lifting him up to the light to see him better.

“I think he was born that way,” I offered, finishing my hack job on the chicken. “Here, gimme him.”

Hawke passed him to me, continuing to pet him as I fed him small pieces of chicken. He was hungry enough, biting my fingers in his eagerness to eat, his little teeth like razors. That bastard probably starved him as well, although he didn’t look too gangly from what I could see.

“Are ya gonna keep him?”

“What am I gonna do with a puppy?” The thought had briefly crossed my mind on the way to the clubhouse, but then I decided against it. Puppies were a lot of work, let alone one with a disability. No, it was better if I did what I could, then passed him off to one of the no-kill shelters in the area so they could find him a permanent home with people who had the time to care for him.

“You need somethin’ to go home to, man.”

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