Page 3 of Hot for Hostage

When the door swung shut behind him, Gladys crossed her arms and frowned at me. “This is the first I’m hearing about a rent hike. Is that why you started bringing your own treats and toys for the dogs? And that nasty mush you make for Bear?”

“Hey, he has a sensitive stomach. Yogurt helps,” I said, defensive. She didn’t need to know about the whole treasure trove of dog supplies I hadn’t brought to the shelter yet. After the rent was raised, Mr. Sanders couldn’t afford as many toys or treats for the dogs, so I kept a backup stock at my student housing. Baking their treats myself helped save money, and my culinary school scholarship included a stipend I happily put toward supplies for the dogs.

I clapped my hands. “But that’s enough wallowing. Let’s do another round to make sure the dogs aren’t traumatized, and I’ll give Bear his medicine. Then we can figure out how to patch up this window until it gets replaced.”

Gladys rolled her eyes before leading us back into the shelter’s lobby, muttering under her breath the whole time.

I allowed myself one last glance at the broken window and swore I’d make those little hooligans pay.

But there were more important things than vengeance, I reminded myself as I stopped by the medical cart and picked up Bear’s medicine. The dogs, along with their health and happiness, were way more important.

Bear was a fixture at the shelter, and a knot formed in my stomach every time someone stopped by his kennel when looking to adopt. I wanted him to find his forever home morethan anything, but I also dreaded the day I’d have to say goodbye to his furry face.

But it’d been three years, and Bear was passed over again and again. People claimed he’d be too much work.

He’s too big.

He’d be a fortune to buy food for.

He’s not a puppy.

To me, he was perfect.

Bear might be huge—even by German shepherd standards—but it was just more fluff to cuddle with.

“Hey, handsome.” Smiling, I reached Bear’s kennel after greeting each of the dogs in his row. Bear’s head popped up from where it rested on his paws, and his large pink tongue lolled out. “I brought your yummy medicine.”

An excitedawoosounded from Bear’s next-door neighbor, and I smiled at the young husky.

“Hello to you, too, Mr. Woofkins,” I murmured, reaching through the gate and giving the other dog a scratch behind the ears, hoping he’d switch to his inside-voice howl. He would rile up the other rescues if he kept that up.

Bear took his medicine without any trouble—thank god for peanut butter—and I gave him, Mr. Woofkins, and the rest of the dogs some quality pets before heading to the kitchen to help Ryan get their breakfast ready.

Looking over my shoulder at the dogs, I promised myself I wouldn’t allow those boys to ruin what we’d built here. Mr. Sanders had enough problems keeping the shelter afloat, and he shouldn’t have to worry about a group of wannabe thugs.

I’d fix this.

teenage thugs

. . .

Sadie

Sadie’s Guide to Hostage-Taking, Tip #2: You might think you’ll go through life without taking anyone hostage—that you’re part of the 99.9997% of the population who doesn’t need to resort to taking someone captive to get what you want. Get over that mindset, because I used to think the same thing.

I was wrong.

A nice man from Wally’s Windows came by to replace the broken window the following morning, and Happy Tails Haven was back to normal—just with a few additional penis-shaped spray-paintings next to our door.

At least the little jerks hadn’t taken anything valuable from inside, like the medications for our dogs.

The shelter fell back into a nice groove over the next week, with my plans to fix the vandalization problem taking a backseat while Gladys and I hosted a bake sale fundraiser. We sold treats for both dogs and humans, and it was a big hit in the neighborhood—even if we only raised enough to cover what Mr. Sanders had paid for the window repairs.

By the time I arrived to feed the dogs on Friday morning, I was hopeful we could turn things around. After dropping off a plate of freshly baked brownies with Emily at reception, I skipped down to Bear’s kennel while greeting each dog along the way. It was time for his special-made bowl of dog food with yogurt mixed in—he’d had an upset tummy the day before.

But for the first time since I’d started at Happy Tails Haven, Bear wasn’t waiting for me. I stared at his empty kennel for a full minute before blinking.

“Have you seen your neighbor, Mr. Woofkins?” I asked the husky behind the next gate over. He wagged his tail in answer with both icy blue eyes focused on me. If he knew, he certainly wasn’t telling.

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