Page 12 of Devil's Due

“That the service dog?” At my nod she becomes all business. “Hang on, I’ll get James.” Now she knows we’re not here to rob the place, her attitude completely changes. A man rushes out of the back and passes with barely a glance at me. Within moments they’ve got Max on some sort of gurney and are wheeling him inside.

“He’s a service dog,” I say with emphasis, as the vet passes by for the second time.

“I’ve got eyes and can read,” the man who’s clearly the vet replies sharply.

Of course he’d seen that. I hadn’t wanted to remove the harness in case it was holding something vital together.

“You might have eyes, his owner hasn’t,” I snap back copying his tone. “She needs that dog to be alright. You heal him, you hear me?”

James, or whatever his name is, pauses briefly. “You think I wouldn’t do everything I can? Doesn’t matter if he’s a service dog or the family pet. If it’s possible to help him through this, I will, but I’m not God.”

“Sorry man.” Yeah, maybe I’d been a bit rough on him, but watching that accident happen? Well, it had been a shock for me. The way the dog knew danger was coming and bore the brunt of it himself. Well that takes bravery, and this biker, for one, is fucking impressed.

“I’m taking him in the back. I’m not happy with his breathing. He’ll need X-rays. It might be helpful if I know how the injury happened. Give a summary to Vera, will you?” he nods at the nurse. “Then, Vera, I’ll need your help.”

She jerks her head in agreement, then narrows her eyes at me. “What happened? You knock him over with your bike?”

“Christ, no,” I snap, disliking her attitude. Then, for the second time this evening, I explain how things went down.

Immediately her bearing relaxes, and a sympathetic expression crosses her face. “Who’s the owner?”

“Girl called Stevie. I didn’t get the rest of her name.” I tell her the hospital, where she was taken, but that’s as much as I know. As she frowns, I realise what could be an issue. “Look, I’ll pay. Whatever.”

“It could get expensive,” she warns.

Fuck knows why, I wasn’t responsible for Max’s injuries, but I’ve got some money saved and if need be, this seems as good a use as any for it. I wouldn’t want him to go untreated because of the cost. There was just something about how Max saved his mistress that got to me. Loyalty like that? Can’t be ignored. “I’ll pay,” I tell her again.

“Could be the association that supplied him might pay the bills. Won’t know the arrangements until we can talk to this Stevie. Now, excuse me, I’ve got to go back and assist James. Have you a number I can call with an update?”

I’d promised I wouldn’t leave him, or at least not until there was news. “I’ll wait.” Before she can attempt to throw me out, I walk to a hard-plastic seat that’s far too small for my ass but ignoring that, sit. Then I fold my arms and stare back at her with determination.

She doesn’t argue. Well, it’s not like she could move me. Her eyes flick to the door, then, with a shrug that suggests her canine patient is more important than any protest, she disappears after the vet.

I hadn’t noticed Pyro and Pal come in. They squeeze themselves into seats one away and to either side of myself. I look from one to the other as if I’m watching a tennis ball bounce between two rackets. “You don’t have to stay.”

“No worries.” Pyro stretches out his long legs, putting his arms over the backs of the seats to either side of him.

“Not got anything better to do.” Pal folds one leg over the other.

It’s Saturday night. Okay, so Pal’s got an old lady, but Pyro looks like a party type of man, in a beer and pussy type of way, of course. I suspect that they’re both lying. It warms my heart they intend to keep me company.

“So how was the journey, Beef?” Pal asks when the silence becomes too heavy.

“Fuckin’ long. Good to start with, but after a few hours I could feel my age.” My back twinges as I’m speaking, and I lean forward and reaching back, try to rub a few kinks out.

“You’re not old,” Pyro scoffs. “Look about my age.”

“Thirty-seven,” I tell him, feeling every minute of it. It’s the first time I’ve relaxed in hours, and the ride has caught up with me. “How old are you?”

“Told you. Your age or thereabouts. Thirty-six.”

“Christ, you two are ancient.”

Leaning over I scuff Pal’s hair. “You’re just a baby.”

He swipes my hand away. “I’m twenty-one.”

“You even start shaving yet?” Pyro leans forward, peering around me and looking at our companion as if trying to see for himself.

---