Page 31 of Pigeon

“Put the bags down, and I’ll let you leave,” I order.

“You’llletus leave? She’llletus leave,” laughs the man closest to me.

“Get out of our way, and we’ll let you live,” counters the other man while hefting the bag over his shoulder.

I cringe when I hear the whining and cries of the puppies, but I don’t move from my position. Several of the dogs in the kennels are now barking, growling, and the noise is nearly deafening. Staring the men down, I pray the police show soon.

When my phone rings, I glance down to see it’s an unknown caller. I ignore the call. It disconnects and then starts ringing again. Still ignoring it, I repeat my order to the two men. When all I receive from them are evil grins, I brace because things are about to get ugly.

When both men start walking toward me, carrying their bags, Thor leans into his collar. Holding on for dear life, he drags me in the direction of the men. Thor’s flashing teeth must finally penetrate their tiny brains because both men stop, slowly lower the bags to the floor and hold their hands out in a placating manner. Maybe what convinced them was me dropping my phone and slowly losing my grip on the leash. It doesn’t really matter why, but I’m grateful that there’s still some distance between us.

Puppies of all sizes spill out of the bags and run every direction, crying and howling. Thor eases back, and my feet come to a stop. Unfortunately, I’m wrong when I think the men are going to leave without a fight. When a young terrier mix puppy scoots past the men, one of them scoops him up. Holding the crying puppy by the scruff, the man lays out his idea of how this is going to go.

“Take the dog and get inside a kennel. Do it right the fuck now, or this puppy’s going to get its skull caved in.”

“God, no, don’t do that!” I beg as I back toward the closest kennel that happens to have a friendly collie in it. “Please don’t hurt the puppy!”

“Do it, or the puppy won’t be the only one getting its skull caved in,” the man orders.

“By the looks of her face, this bitch doesn’t follow orders well,” states the other man with a sneer. “Somebody try to teach you a lesson you were too stupid to learn?”

As my back hits the kennel door, and I reach behind me to fumble with the latch, the door to the barn opens. All eyes swing that direction as two more men enter. While I was hoping to see a couple of uniforms, I don’t. What I do see is just as reassuring, though. Both are large, angry-looking men, but the part that almost makes my knees buckle in relief is that both are wearing Devil’s Angels cuts and aiming handguns at the other men.

“Go outside, Ivy. Take the dog with you and call Rex. Tell him we’re here, and you’re safe,” orders the extremely large, pissed-off Viking slash biker-looking dude.

I pull Thor behind me, grab my phone off the floor, then bolt through the door the other biker is holding open for me. Once outside, I lift my phone and call the unknown caller number from before. I have no idea if this is the right number or not, but I’m too shaken to think clearly.

When a man’s voice answers, I ask, “Is this Rex?”

“Yeah, it is,” answers a calm, soothing deep voice.

“This… uhh, this… I’m Ivy,” I stutter before calming enough to talk coherently. “Sorry. This is Ivy. A friend of yours told me to call and tell you he’s here and that I’m safe.”

“Yeah, that’s good. You okay, Ivy? Did they hurt you?” he asks.

“I’m good. No, they didn’t touch me. Should I maybe let him know that I called 911? I’m only asking because the cops should be showing up soon, and there’s noises coming from inside that might be hard to explain.”

“Cops will be there in about a minute, and no, you don’t need to tell Cash that. He’s aware. You might want to go to the parking lot and show the cops how to get to the barn. Keep Thor with you, Ivy, and I’ll stay on the phone with you too.”

“Okay, I can do that,” I answer as I take the outside route to the parking lot, arriving at the same time as the police car. “Cops are here. Thank you, Rex.”

“Chat later, Ivy,” Rex answers before disconnecting.

Two female officers emerge from the patrol unit as I approach them. Quickly explaining who I am, they follow me to the dog barn. Motioning for me to stay back, they cautiously approach the door, look inside and then relax.

“I love these fucking guys,” the tall officer says with a laugh.

“Livi’s a lucky bitch for sure. Should we take a coffee break and let them finish? No, that wouldn’t be right. We have to at least appear to be needed,” says the shorter officer before opening the door and entering.

I crouch down next to Thor and wrap my arms around him. Body stiff, his eyes are alert and active, but he’s quit growling. Several minutes later, the two officers emerge with the two men, cuffed and looking like they’re rethinking their life choices. Thor snarls and lunges at them, but I hang onto him and pray I have the strength to continue doing so until the men are gone. Luckily, the officers escort the men around the building and out of sight. The two club members stop in the doorway and eye Thor carefully, but he ignores them completely. Dogs know who can and can’t be trusted, and this just proves it again.

“You got him?” the Viking slash biker asks in a quiet tone.

“Not sure, to be honest. Hope so, though,” I answer with a grunt as my knees smack hard on the cement.

“Was hoping you’d say a definite yes to that,” replies the other biker.

“Anything we can do? Without getting mauled, that is?” asks the Viking biker with a small grin.

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