Page 17 of Perfectly Leashed
Drek’s deep chuckle filled the air, the sound almost feral in nature. He tossed his cigarette and slid back into his SUV.
This was far from over.
* * * *
Darcy licked the grease off his thumb, full from his chicken-wing feast but still wishing he had more. If that was Jamie’s first attempt at frying wings, Darcy couldn’t wait until he got even better at it.
You’re acting like you’ll be around for that achievement. Not when Luca had stood him up. It was the first time someone had ghosted him, and Darcy didn’t like the way it made him feel. He should’ve known. They’d hit it off too fast, and Darcy liked him too much. It’d been only two days, and nothing could be taken seriously in that short amount of time.
Still, it would’ve been nice to get to know Luca. He’d seemed like a really nice guy.
With a sigh, Darcy pushed his plate of bones aside and finished off his second glass of soda. It was time to go. Obviously, Luca was no longer interested, and Darcy didn’t want to look desperate by hanging around.
He set his glass down when he heard a flurry of deep voices past the kitchen doorway. Their tones sounded urgent and clipped, drawing Jamie’s and Percy’s attention. The two exchanged a look, then quickly rushed toward the kitchen exit. Cesar wiped his hands on a towel and cursed in Spanish—the tone implied a curse—before he was hot on their heels.
The kitchen suddenly felt twice as empty now that he was alone. It would be smarter to head out, to put Sin’s behind him.
But Darcy kept his butt in his chair while the conversation outside the room grew more urgent.
He glanced at the entrance, strummed his fingers, then bit his lip. It was none of his business. What he should be concentrating on was that plate of chicken abandoned on the workstation.
One look. That’s all he would take. One look to see what was going on then he would leave and try to forget about his dog whisperer.
Stop being so nosy. Luca clearly lost interest. Take your butt home.
Who was he kidding? Nosy wasn’t a strong enough word for what he felt sometimes. He’d always poked into things. Curiosity ran his life way more than common sense did.
He slid from his seat and drifted toward the entryway. The kitchen didn’t have a door. It was just an archway, which made it easier to snoop.
With a glance back at the plate of uneaten chicken, Darcy sighed and crept out of the room.
To his left was a long, dim hallway with multiple doors. Men were crowding the small space, a figure dangling between them. They were carrying someone.
Darcy watched as they shouldered open a door at the far end, then disappeared inside.
Just go. Leave the chicken, forget your dog whisperer, and walk out the front door.
Every step made his stomach pitch, but Darcy kept against the wall, sliding closer to the commotion. The voices were muffled but became clearer the closer he got to the room.
For a moment, he felt like he was intruding, then he slipped around the doorframe.
The room reeked of antiseptic and sweat. There was a bed in the center of the room, sheets pulled half off, and a blur of hands working fast over someone sprawled across it on their chest. One yanked off the shirt of the unconscious guy, flinging it aside.
The fabric was soaked in blood. Why weren’t they taking the person to the hospital?
All Darcy saw at first was smeared, golden skin and a mess of dark hair. Latex gloves snapped. Gauze was pressed into flesh, bright red blooming through white.
It took a second to recognize the jaw, the line of stubble, the stubborn arch of eyebrows.
The world shrank to a pinpoint. Darcy covered his mouth with shaky hands. It wasn’t some unlucky bystander or a customer.
It was his dog whisperer.
Luca.
His face was pale, his eyes closed, blood pooling across his back.
The inside of Darcy’s mouth went dry. Blood oozed from a hole in Luca’s shoulder blade when the red gauze was thrown aside and a pile of fresh gauze replaced it.
