Page 70 of Devil's Due

“I like dogs,” I repeat. Truth is, the closest I’ve ever been to a pet dog is Grunt, the wolfhound on the Tucson compound. I turn away dismissively. Conversation over. There’s a point when you start offering too much explanation that it becomes suspicious.

Beaver starts carrying grocery sacks into the kitchen. When he starts opening cupboards to put stuff away, I stop him.

“I’ll do that later. You’ll only put everything in the wrong place.” Places where Stevie wouldn’t think of looking. I’ll put everything away under her instruction later.

“Neat fuckin’ freak, ain’t ya?”

I swing around, suddenly seeing what he is. Tins stacked neatly by their contents. I simply glare at him. Whether I am or not is none of his business.

Wanting them to be gone, anticipating the delight on Stevie’s face when she finds out her friend has been brought back to her, I open the front door pointedly and follow them out. Then watch them go to the truck.

They’ve got their hands on the door handles when I shout, “You really want a beatdown? Be out of the club before you’ve fuckin’ started?”

Two men turn around fast. Karl holds up his hands as if to ward me off. Beaver looks perplexed. Then it suddenly dawns on them. In unison they give each other sheepish looks, take off their cuts, and only then get into the truck.

“Be sure to hide the fuckin’ gate once you’re out,” I add as they close the doors.

A wave of Karl’s hand out of the driver’s side window shows me he’s heard.

Fucking prospects.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Igive it a few minutes before returning inside, making sure that the new prospects haven’t forgotten something or other and decide to come back. Then, with a huge fucking smile on my face, and unable to hold back on the surprise any longer, I go inside.

Taking the stairs two at a time, I call out before entering the bedroom where Stevie is hiding. I’m so impatient to show her what’s waiting for her, I can barely hold myself back from yanking her into my arms and carrying her downstairs.

“What’s the matter, Beef? What the hell are you doing?” Stevie’s face is tight. “Have they found me? Why the rush?”

Shit. I’ve scared her. She can’t see I’m beaming from ear to ear. “Nothing’s wrong. Fuck, sorry, Stevie. I’m happy is all, and you will be too.”

There’s a thump thump from the crate. Stevie stops dead, her brain computing the sound. The conclusion she comes to is confirmed when Max, eager to see his mistress, gives a small whine. Several emotions pass across her face, disbelief, then hope and finally, pleasure.

Taking a step toward the sound she asks, “Is he alright?”

“Yeah. He’s in a crate. His leg’s bandaged, he’s got one of those cone things on presumably to stop him gnawing the bandage off. He’s supposed to take it easy. But he seemed to be able to walk okay.”

“Can he come out? I’ll try and keep him calm.”

“Of course. You sit on the couch, and I’ll let him out, okay?”

Max is so thrilled to see his mistress that he bounds out of the crate in a way that makes me wince. But as soon as he reaches her, she gives him a command, “Down.” Within a second, he’s lying at her feet.

Sliding off the couch, she sits on the floor beside him, her face buried in his fur, her body shaking. When she looks up, tears are falling down her face. She sniffs loudly. “I didn’t let myself believe he’d be alright. Is he going to make a full recovery?”

“Looks that way,” I reply, sinking to my haunches beside the pair. “James’ note said he’s coming on really well.”

She can’t stop touching Max. I eye her carefully, then place a box of tissues beside her, remembering to tell her they’re by her left hand. She’s not going to want to leave him anytime soon.

“I’ll go start dinner. You stay here with Max.”

I don’t need to tell her twice. Thinking that food will probably be the last thing on her mind, I defrost some chilli I find in the freezer, then heat it along with some rice. After plating it I take it back into the main room.

“Mmm. Smells good.” Her nose wrinkles in appreciation. “Thanks Beef.”

“It’s not much. You want it there?”

She eases herself back onto the couch and holds out her hand to take it. Well-trained dog that he is, he wags his tail, licks his lips, but Max stays put. When I sit down beside her, he inches over so he’s lying against my feet as well as hers. Guess he’s adopted me too.

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