Page 16 of Now or Never

Mr. Big lunged at me and sank his Chihuahua teeth into my leg just above the ankle.

I instinctively kicked my leg out. Mr. Big lost his grip, flew through the air, and bounced once on the lawn about fifteen feet away. He jumped to his feet and came at me again. This time he snagged the bottom of my jeans.

Mrs. Jug popped out of the house. “What’s going on?”

“Trespassers,” Jug said. “Get my gun.”

Mrs. Jug turned on her heel and disappeared back into the house.

“Guns aren’t necessary,” I said, using my most trust-inspiring, soothing voice. “This is a simple matter of rescheduling.”

“You ruined my breakfast and favorite pajamas,” Jug said, eyes narrowed, jaw muscles bulging, precisely enunciating each word.

“It’s impressive how you can talk with your teeth gnashing together like that,” Lula said to Jug. “And you might not know, but your face is real red. You might feel better if you take a blood pressure pill.”

“I’ll feel better when I shove my foot up your pussy,” Jug said, launching himself at Lula, his hands reaching for her neck.

Lula stumbled back and swung her giant tote bag at him, catching him square in the face, knocking him off his feet.

“What the hell!” Lula said. “What the freaking hell!”

Jug was spread-eagle on the ground, stunned. His nose was spurting blood, his fingers were twitching, his eyes were unfocused.

“He’s gonna be real unhappy when he comes to and sees all that blood soaked into his favorite jammies,” Lula said.

Mrs. Jug ran out of the house onto the porch, gun in hand, and gaped at Jug on the ground. “You killed him,” she shrieked, squeezing off a bunch of rounds in our direction. “You killed my Juggy!”

Time stood still for a beat and then adrenaline took charge, and we all went into save-yourself mode. Big ripped off a piece of my jeans and ran into the house with it, and Lula and I jumped into the Trailblazer and hauled ass out of the driveway, out of the neighborhood. I checked my rearview mirror and saw that my back window was shattered. A couple bullets had pinged off my side mirror before I got out of range, but Lula and I were okay.

“You don’t think we really killed him, do you?” Lula asked.

“No,” I said. “He was just stunned.”

“He shouldn’t have threatened my pussy like that. You know how sensitive I am to that sort of thing. I don’t tolerate violence against my pussy.”

“Or any other body part,” I said.

“Damn skippy. Good thing the Mrs. is such a bad shot. There was bullets going everywhere. It’s because she was all excited and rushing things in the beginning. She settled in once we were in the car. Still, even then she only took out the rear window and a sidemirror, and it could have been by accident.” Lula looked down at my torn jeans. “That vicious dog took a bite out of you. You got some blood dripping off your ankle.”

“I thought he liked me,” I said.

“Yeah, but he was a trained killer. He was no doubt trained to ignore personal emotions when it comes to obeying a command. Now what are we doing? Are you going to the ER to get a rabies shot?”

“No. I’m going back to the office to get a Band-Aid.”

Connie was at her desk when we walked into the office. “Did you get Jug?” she asked.

“Almost,” Lula said. “Stephanie got attacked by his killer dog, and then his wife shot at us a bunch of times.”

“What kind of dog does he have?” Connie asked.

“Chihuahua,” Lula said. “Dog would rip your heart out. Of course, you couldn’t be more than two feet tall. Or maybe if you were laying on the ground.”

I went to the bathroom, washed the blood off my leg, and put a couple giant Band-Aids over the tooth marks. I stopped at the coffee machine and settled into one of the uncomfortable chairs in front of Connie’s desk.

“What’s new?” I asked Connie.

“I’ve been here for thirty-seven minutes, and I’ve taken three phone calls for you. All from someone named Herbert Slovinski. He said you were expecting him to call.”

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