“Maybe Shauna could help?”I suggested.Scooby was her dog.If anyone was going to get tetanus, it should be the girl who couldn’t tell the difference betweenHomo sapiensandPuma concolor.Me?I’d had my shots.Always be prepared, General Zacharov had drilled into us.
Scooby didn’t have the energy to snap as we pulled him onto the blanket, and that wasn’t a good sign.But the veterinarian was only a two-minute drive away, and Isaac Ward seemed competent from what I’d seen of him.The dog might pull through—anything was possible.
“Should I come too?”Paulo asked.“No, I should help to clean up the store.Someone has to rescue all of those Swarovski pearls.”
“Oh, you go, hun.If Dr.Ward doesn’t have an assistant there, they’ll need you on one corner of the blanket again.”I turned to the blonde and the hummingbird.“And I’m afraid you’ll have to leave too.I really need to get these bloodstains wiped up.”The hummingbird opened his mouth to protest, but I’d had enough bullshit for one day.“If you want to jot down your number, we can ship whatever you’d like at no charge.”
“But the yarn—”
Good thing the blonde took the hint.“No shipping charge—that’s a great offer.”
“We should help to—”
She linked her arm through his and marched him toward the front door.“We really need to leave the lady to take care of her cat, okay?”
“I’ll email you,” he called back over his shoulder, and I dredged up a smile.
“I’ll be looking forward to it.”
The instant the door closed behind them, I threw the bolt home and headed for the rear exit.If there was some asshole with a knife in the trees behind Main Street, I needed to find out who they were.Kids walked there.Okay, so I didn’t much like kids, but I liked assholes even less.
I strolled out the door, breathing deep to settle my headache.Peace and quiet and a little fresh air worked better than any painkiller.Blood drops led across the small yard at the rear of the store, and I followed them like breadcrumbs, one hand ready to grab the gun strapped to my thigh if necessary.There was a reason I wore a muumuu most of the time, and that reason had less to do with making a fashion statement and more to do with concealment.Luck was on my side today—I’d picked out a nice subdued outfit this morning instead of nuclear orange or mustard-gas yellow.
The path curved into the trees, and I slipped a switchblade into my hand.
Whatever came at me, I’d be ready.
And they’d be sorry.