Page 61 of Tainted Saints

He takes me by my hand, intertwining our fingers as he leads us to a cage at the far end, where a beautiful, blonde cocker spaniel waits for us, tail wagging and tongue hanging out. He grabs some leads that hang on the wall as we pass, draping them over his neck.

“This is Lola,” Forest tells me as he opens the door, herding Lola back in as he lets me inside and I shut the bars with a clang. “She’s eight years old, rules the pound, and loves fireworks.” He chuckles as he crouches down and she wraps her front legs around his shoulders, licking his face all over. “And she gives the best kisses and cuddles.”

I laugh as I bend down too, holding my hand out when she gets off Forest. She sniffs my fingers, gives them a lick, and then she’s pressing up against me too, trying to lick my face.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Lola.” I chuckle, burying my face in her fur and hugging her to me. My muscles relax, heat radiating through my chest as she shows me all the love that only a dog can give.

“Come on, let’s take her out and you can meet some of the others too,” Forest gently coaxes after a while.

He takes me to several of the other cells, introducing me to Barli; a six-and-a-half-year-old miniature schnauzer who oozes mischief. We take him and then I meet Winnie; a beautiful, chocolate labrador who apparently is a bit of a princess, and also grab Cooper, an adorable chihuahua who seems super chilled and laid back.

We take them all out of another side door that I discover leads out into a large yard-type space, the winter sunshine beating down on us. It’s pretty barren, but there are a couple of leafless trees and what looks like obstacles.

“Let’s give them a run around,” Forest suggests, bending down to let them off their leads. He grabs a ball he’d stashed in his pocket, throwing it, and they all chase after it, barking with their tails wagging.

“You love it here,” I observe, and he turns to me, his smile firmly in place.

“That I do, sugar. Dogs can’t hurt you the way a person can,” he sighs softly, bending down and grabbing the ball that Lola drops at his feet. He throws it again, looking after the dogs that chase it once more. “All they want to do is love you and be loved in return. Nothin’ else. There’s no meanness to them, no hatefulness that some people seem to be born with.”

My eyes fill with tears as a small sound falls from my throat.

“Ah shit, sweetness,” he exclaims, closing the small distance between us and wrapping his arms around me. His rose, gin, and leather scent surrounds me, and my hands clutch at his shirt as I cry quietly into his chest. I wanted to keep the pain at bay, wanted to not let the darkness that has been my life infect this day, but his words hit too hard, too close to home for me to ignore the despair that I didn’t even acknowledge I lived with. “My parents were bad too, rotten to the core.” He takes a shuddering inhale, not releasing me as my cries quieten so I can listen to his story. “They were addicts and would do anything to get their next fix. Including selling their little boy to whoever would pay.”

“No, Forest,” I whisper, horrified. My soul breaks for him, for the terror he must have experienced as a child. “Why are people so monstrous?”

“I wish I knew, angel.” He sighs, pulling me closer and brushing a kiss on top of my head. “But there is always a silver lining, sometimes you just have to look real hard to find it. If they’d never overdosed that night in our trailer, I never would have come here and met Lan and Blaine. Never would have known you.”

I pull back a little, enough so that I can look deep into his beautiful eyes.

“I’m not mad for being locked away after being arrested,” I confess, watching as his jaw tightens. “I might not have ever met you all if I hadn't been caught, and I’d do it all again in a heartbeat.”

“We will get you out of there, I swear, they won’t ever lock you away again.” His words are strong, unwavering as the breeze lifts some of my hair around us.

“I don’t want you to get hurt, any of you,” I tell him, wishing I could believe his promise, but sometimes hope is more dangerous than even the biggest monsters. “And he’s capable of so much, I—” His lips press against mine, silencing my protests with a sweet kiss.

“Trust us, Little Lady,” he breathes against my parted lips, his words sinking into the very centre of my being. “We will keep you safe, and he will pay for all the hurt that he’s caused you.”

Fresh tears spill down my cheeks, and I’m so sick of crying but I can’t seem to stop now that they’ve opened the floodgates.

“O–okay,” I agree, my breath fluttering against his lips. A small weight lifts from my shoulders, as if placing my trust in them has allowed me some respite.

“Good girl,” he praises, kissing me again with a smile on his lips as the dogs bark around us and the wind brushes its cool fingertips over us, taking our sordid pasts away with it and only leaving our futures behind.

* * *

We spend the rest of the morning taking the dogs out of their cages for some time in the yard, and Forest explains their plans for expansion, including having lockable dog flaps in each of the cells so that the dogs who are okay to mix can head out whenever they like.

He’s so enthusiastic about the Pound, it’s clearly a place that he loves and wants to make into a career. I’m not sure how it fits with his Tainted Saints commitment, but I’m sure this is what he was meant to do. Look after the waifs and strays of the world.

Forest finds me just before lunch, sitting on the floor with Lucy, a fifteen-year-old poodle mix who is a total princess diva and is currently in my lap receiving homage as is her due as I sing “La La Lu” softly to her.

“Seems you made lots of friends today, angel,” Forest comments, and I look up to find him leaning against the doorway, arms crossed and looking too delicious with a smirk on his beautiful face. “You know, you should sing professionally. The world should hear your voice.”

My cheeks heat at the compliment, and finishing the song, I set a now sleepy Lucy in her bed and get up, padding slowly towards him.

“I don’t think a career on stage is befitting the daughter of the British Ambassador,” I tell him with a sigh, pausing in front of him. He unfolds, brushing a strand of my hair from my face.

“Well, how about next Saturday at Maria’s?” he asks with a challenging lift of one of his brows.

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