Page 34 of Beware of Dog

“It’s a club not a gang,” Cass said, softening, as Shep hung his cut back up. “They get touchy about the distinction.” She did too, apparently.

Jamie glanced over at Shep, who’d resumed his previous crossed-armed stance. “Is he one? A Lean Dog?”

“Yes. And he’s been my reluctant bodyguard ever since I moved here from London.”

Shep shifted his weight, his gaze trained on her, but Cass didn’t turn her head. She wasn’t sure what sort of reaction she wanted to her words, and found it wise not to search for one.

“The thing about the Lean Dogs,” she continued, “is that, no matter how powerful and influential Sig is, none of that matters when the Dogs are involved. They’ll”—she gestured to Shep—“keep us safe, no matter what Sig and his family try.”

Jamie looked between them, back and forth, back and forth. To Cass, she said, “You meanyou’llbe safe.”

“If I say you’re safe with me, then you are,” Cass said, firmly.

Jamie studied her a long moment, then nodded, and glanced away.

~*~

As hoped, Shep produced a Valium from his extensive traveling med kit, and Cass went to get Jamie settled in the bunk room. She was snoring by the time Cass slipped back out into the main part of the apartment, and Cass took a moment standing inthe living room to catch her breath. The stress of the day had left her feeling as though she’d run a footrace. Her shoulders ached, and her eyes were gritty and tired, and she wanted this unasked-for debacle to be over already.

Shep was at the breakfast bar that separated kitchen from living room, chopping something on a wooden cutting board.Sports Centerwas on TV in the living room, but he turned his attention from it to shoot her an assessing look.

“She good?”

“She’s asleep.” Cass yawned, so wide her jaw cracked.

“Come here.” The knife scraped over the board and he motioned her closer with a tip of his head. “You can take over chopping.”

She went around the bar and stepped up beside him. Heat radiated off his bare arms; he smelled good, like Speed Stick and laundry detergent. If she leaned in close enough that their arms brushed, sue her. “Chop what?”

“Carrots.” He set two, freshly scrubbed, in front of her, along with the knife. “I already did the onion.” A neat pile of white squares rested in a bowl.

He turned toward the stove, and the pot waiting there, and Cass took up the knife and went to work on the carrots. She wasn’t looking to make a career as a chef, but there was something relaxing about the simple routines of cooking.

“What are you making?”

“Chicken soup.”

When she first met Shep, microwaving a burrito was a challenge for him. He subsisted off protein powder, PowerBars, and takeout. Then, slowly, he’d started introducing meals he’d prepared himself. Simple, never fancy, but more nutritious. The first time he cooked for her, Raven and Toly had been out of town and he’d stayed at the flat with her overnight. She’d awakened the next morning to find him stewing and cursingover a pan of scrambled eggs that had wound up overcooked, but still edible.

So far, he’d dodged her efforts to find out why he’d started cooking. He would shrug tightly and say, “I dunno. Seemed like a good idea.” Every time she teased him about it, the tips of his ears turned grapefruit pink.

“That sounds cozy,” she said, slicing the carrots into neat rounds.

“Yeah, well.” She couldn’t see, but could hear the shrug in his voice. Smiled to herself as she pictured his ears. “There’s…” A glance over her shoulder proved he was gesturing with a wooden spoon. “Trauma and all that. Or whatever.”

“Or whatever,” she agreed, and turned back to the carrots.

Something hit the bottom of the pot and started to sizzle quietly. Shep turned for the onions, and when they landed the hissing intensified.

They worked in silence for a few minutes. When she was done with the carrots, she turned and scraped them into the pot. Shep added garlic, and the scent bloomed strong and welcoming through the kitchen.

When the chicken, rice, and broth were in, Shep put a lid on the pot and turned to lean back against the counter, hands braced on the edge of it, and fixed her with a look.

“I know,” she said, preemptively.

He cocked a brow. “You know what?”

“I know what you’re going to say.”

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