Page 9 of Rage's Heart

“Think he needs a vet?” I asked, finally speaking up.

She glanced up at me again, this time without the suspicion she aimed at me earlier.

“My friend works at the emergency clinic a few blocks from here,” she said, nodding toward her car. “If we can get him into my car, I can take him.”

I adjusted my stance, rolling my shoulders back to ease the ache that was there. “He should be okay to move. Watch out. I’ll carry him.”

She stepped aside.

The dog whined low in his throat when I slid my arms beneath him, my hands sinking into his grimy fur. His body tensed like he was waiting for another blow, but I held steady, muttering a low, “Easy, buddy. I got you.“

The blonde scrambled ahead of me, yanking her back door open.

I stepped forward and carefully settled the dog down onto the seat, pulling back only when I was sure he was going to stay put.

Straightening, I closed the door and met her gaze. “I’ll follow you over there.”

Her eyes flicked to where the dog was laying in the back of her car then back to me. She looked like she was about to argue but to my surprise she nodded her head and moved towards the drivers door.

Thank fuck.

The waiting room of the clinic was empty except for a bored-looking receptionist behind the front desk scrolling through her phone.

“Maggie!” the blonde beside me called out as I followed her through the door with the dog in my arms. “We’ve got an emergency.”

Her friend’s brows shot up as she took in the panting, ragged mess I was holding. “Oh, poor b—” Her lips slammed shut when she got to me.

Her reaction wasn’t unusual. I was a big guy in a leather cut covered in tattoos with a perpetual pissed off look on my face. Women either got nervous, or were ready to drop their panties and hop into bed.

Maggie, it seemed, was the kind that got nervous.

“My god,” she whispered, barely hiding the way her fingers clenched her phone. “Are you with him?”

I clenched my jaw. “Seriously?”

Blondie groaned next to me. “Mags! He’s just helping,” she shot her friend a look before turning back toward the swinging door, where a young tech was already approaching with a rolling stretcher.

Instinct told me to keep a hold of the dog until I knew he was in good hands, but Blondie didn’t hesitate.

“He’s got abrasions on his paws, and he’s dehydrated and underweight. I didn’t feel any fractures when I looked him over, but it was dark too.” She’d already rattled off half the diagnosis before the guy took the damn stretcher, the pup letting out a pitiful yelp as they wheeled him swiftly to the back.

Then it was just the two of us still standing in the middle of the waiting area.

Maggie cleared her throat, regaining a shred of composure. “What’s the name?”

Blondie shot me a look.

I shrugged. “He didn’t exactly introduce himself, babe.“

Her lips twitched like she wanted to smile but was still trying to decide if I was dangerous or not.

Maggie stared at me expectantly, waiting.

Fuck.

My gaze flicked to the blank intake form on the counter, then back to the spot where the dog had disappeared.

“He looks like a Diesel,” I said finally.

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