Page 7 of Second to None
“Mrs. Duke used to have a goat,” Diego volunteered. “But he died.”
Max snorted. “Not a ringing endorsement of Dr. Quillen.”
“The goat was really old,” Diego said.
“Ah.” The corner of Max’s mouth twitched. “I suppose we can’t expect Dr. Quillen to have discovered the fountain of youth.”
The limo slowed, and the chauffeur’s voice came through the intercom. “We’re at the clinic, but there’s nowhere to pull over. I’ll have to stop in the street and let you out.”
“No problem,” Max said, already sliding across the seat to push open the door beside Diego. “Let me get out first, and I’ll help you so the dog isn’t jostled too much.”
Diego exited the car without evoking another whimper from the injured dog. As Emily scooted to the door, Max bent and offered his hand again. She wished she didn’t have to touch him, because she knew it would send another wave of distracting sensation skittering through her. But it would be rude not to lay her hand against that broad palm and feel the power of his grip when he closed his fingers around hers.
This time it felt as though an electric current surged through her. Without thinking, she looked up at his face and found him staring at her with that same arrested expression he’d worn in his office.
Could the electricity have shot up his arm, too?
Emily put her feet on the ground and allowed him to pull her upright. He dropped her hand as soon as she was standing, so she must have been imagining things.
Max glanced toward Diego, who was ahead of them on the sidewalk, before he lowered his voice. “That dog is hanging on to life by a thread. I hope like hell your vet is a miracle worker, or your kid is going to be crushed.”
“Diego is tougher than you think. He has to be,” Emily murmured back. She hurried between two parked cars. “I’ll get the door.”
The clinic was in a storefront with plate-glass windows covered by metal grilles. Emily sighed as she saw how crowded the waiting area was. The clinic was always busy because Dr. Quillen was well respected and her prices were flexible, depending on the client’s ability to pay.
Emily hated to make these people with their ailing pets sit here even longer, but Max exhibited no such qualms. He ushered Diego through the door and straight to the receptionist’s desk, looking neither right nor left. “We have a seriously injured dog here. He was first tortured and then hit by a car.”
Carla’s head jerked up, and Emily waited for the no-nonsense receptionist to snap back at Max, as she often did when pet owners got too pushy. However, after Carla eyed Max for a split second, she nodded and hit the intercom call button. “I’ll get a tech right away.”
A young woman in electric-blue scrubs appeared almost immediately and cast an inquiring gaze over the three of them. “Is it your dog?”
“It’s a stray,” Emily said. “But Diego here rescued him.”
The tech smiled at the boy. “Good work!” She looked at Emily and Max. “There’s not really room for all of us.”
“I’ll come with him.” Emily looked up at Max, his height making her tilt her head back.
“Go ahead,” Max said, his voice tight with some sort of tension. “I’ll wait.” He glanced around the room that seethed with animals and people. “Outside.”
She nodded and followed the vet tech and Diego down a corridor floored with cracked gray linoleum but painted a soft green and hung with posters of adorable baby animals.
They turned into a small room where most of the space was taken up by a stainless-steel examination table with a spongy blue cushion padding the top. Diego laid his bundle on the table, and the tech peeled back the sweatshirt. The little dog whined and opened his eyes for a moment.
“Easy, little guy,” the tech said as she scanned his external injuries. When she saw the jutting bone, she frowned. “I’ll get Doc.”
Emily stepped closer to the table as a fist of fear clutched at her chest. The dog lay on his side, his breathing shallow and rapid. He had a square head and nose, long floppy ears, and the gangly legs of a dog just past puppyhood. His ribs showed clearly through his matted black coat. Emily winced at the number of wounds on his small body and averted her eyes when she got to the exposed bone. Diego had said the kids had done mean things to the pup. Her anger flared at the wanton cruelty.
She met Diego’s worried gaze and smiled reassuringly. “The doctor will know how to help him.”
The door swung open, and Dr. Jessica Quillen strode in, wearing a white lab coat over bright pink scrubs. Her brown hair was wound into an untidy bun that always seemed about to unravel, and she had the softest, kindest gray eyes Emily had ever seen. The doctor gave Emily her usual serene, unruffled smile but went directly to the dog on the table.
“Poor fellow, he looks like he’s had a rough time of it.” She ran her fingers lightly over the dog’s head and body. “We have an open fracture here,” she said, inspecting his broken back leg. “We’ll need to take an X-ray to see what else might be injured. And we’ll get him on fluids right away.”
“Is he going to live?” Diego asked, his dark eyes clouded with concern.
The vet’s face softened. “I’m not sure yet, but I’ll do my best. You were smart to bring him to me right away.” She slid her hands under the sweatshirt the dog lay on. “Is this your sweatshirt?” she asked Diego as she lifted the little creature in her arms.
He nodded.
