Page 13 of Bad Guys Need Love Too

He let out a low woof at hearing his name, which made Lark chuckle. She rubbed his giant head. “I’m guessing there’s a story in there somewhere.”

“Not much of one. He was pretty much an unruly asshole when I got him. Everything I said to him started with the word ‘dammit’.” Ren shrugged. “He seemed to like it, so it stuck.”

She laughed again when he leaned into her touch and wagged his fat little stub tail. “You’re just a big sweetheart, aren’t you?”

“That was his whole problem,” Ren said. “He was in the middle of training to be a K9 officer, and he was great at it—until it was time to follow attack orders. Then he was choosy about listening. His trainer seemed to think he was only willing to attack people he considered to be bad guys. Cops don’t typically like free thinkers in their ranks. ”

Lark laughed and squished Dammit George’s giant face, which made his tail wag faster. “Are you a police academy drop out? That’s OK. You’re so handsome you should be a model instead.” She glanced back up at Ren. “How did he end up with you?”

“When he failed his testing, they dumped him at a shelter right down the road.”

She tried to ignore the warming of her heart at the thought of Ren—big, scary looking Ren—walking into the local dog shelter and adopting a big, scary-looking do that had failed his K9 training because he was too sweet. Shealmostsucceeded. Which was probably why she asked, “So, you weren’t worried about Dammit George thinkingyouwere a bad guy?”

The crooked little half smile he gave her? There was no ignoring what part of her warmed after seeingthat. “No,” he said. “Dammit George would never bite the hand that feeds him.”

She noticed he didn’t say Dammit George would never bite him because he wasn’t a bad guy—just that he wouldn’t bite the person whofedhim.

But even though she was loath to admit it—and if she was asked in a court of law at any point why she’d willingly gone with him she’d plead the 5th—Lark was actually starting to believe Ren wasnota bad guy.

Good Lord. She really hoped she didn’t look back on this moment at any point in the future and realize she’d been an idiot because of a handsome face and a squishy, multi-lingual dog.

CHAPTER 8

Lark still had the knife, but she’d set the gun and the Mace down on his kitchenette table. She must be starting to trust him just a little bit. Or, at least, she didn’t think he was going to murder her. Ren would take that as a victory.

Maybe she’d let him take his handcuffs off soon, too.

“Please, have a seat,” he said, gesturing (with his still cuffed hands) to the couch.

She sat down at the far end of the couch, as far away from him as possible. He didn’t let that bother him. All he was to her was a stranger who’d invaded her personal space and kidnapped her with nothing but his word as proof that he wasn’t a raving lunatic who may or may not have a murder pit in his basement. She had no way of knowing she was a beacon of light and hope inhislife.

And frankly, he wasn’t looking forward to explaining that to her. Not. At. All. There just wasn’t a way to do it that didn’t make him sound like a psychopath at worst, and pathetic at best. “Grabthat laptop off the coffee table and I’ll talk you through accessing the dark web.”

She picked up the laptop, but didn’t open it. “Um…do Iwantto access the dark web?”

“Oh, it’s safe,” he assured her. “This laptop is untraceable. I’ve made sure of it.”

There was no need to explain that to anyone trying to track this machine, it would look like the user was somewhere in the outer reaches of Siberia where humans had probably been overrun by polar bears decades ago. He knew she wouldn’t be impressed or comforted by that knowledge.

“That’s not exactly what I meant,” she grumbled, opening the laptop. “OK, tell me what to type.”

He gave her the string of code that would get her where she needed to go, admiring her hands as she typed. They were so elegant looking. Delicate and graceful. Unlike his dinner-plate-sized, rough-as-sandpaper meat hooks. She had the hands of an artist. His hands were built for violence.

“Whoa.” Lark let out a low whistle after she’d hit the last key. “What the hell am I looking at?”

“That is the dark web’s idea of a search engine. It always kind of reminds me of a mosh pit at a punk rock concert: messy and chaotic with lots of opportunities to get hurt,” Ren said ruefully.

“Why does it feel like I need to take a shower?” Lark asked, wrinkling her nose.

He chuckled. “Because this is the seamy side of the human experience. The lowest of the low are here. If you want to stealidentities, do espionage, hire a hacker, or create and distribute malware, this is where you’d do it.”

“Or if I wanted to hire a hitman,” she murmured.

He wished it wasn’t so, but… “That too.”

Lark let out a deep breath. “Show me.”

That’s my brave girl. He gave her instructions to navigate to one of the corners of the dark web where hitmen got their jobs. When she was done typing, he kept quiet. Better that she digest this info on her own than hear it from him.

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