Page 2 of Guarding Glenda

Looking over and blinking more, hoping to get my vision less fuzzy, I grimaced. Or at least I wanted to. Whether or not my face cooperated was uncertain.

Leigh held out a large tumbler by the handle. The long straw was near my lips. A black bandana covered his hair, and his dark scruff had grown out for at least a week, maybe more. His dark brown eyes locked onto mine.

Rolling my head, I shut my eyes.

Linny rubbed my arm. “Glenda, try to take a sip. It may help your throat.”

“Get him out of here,” I whispered as I opened my eyes again.

Linny looked up, her lips nearly in a frown. Her face wasn’t as bad as the first time I saw her, but she definitely was healing from some brutal hits. I was just thankful she was alive and sitting with me. The last thing I remembered was her being dragged away by a Bloody Scorpion before the lights went out on me.

Leigh’s tatted hand passed her the tumbler.

“Here,” she said, holding the straw close for me.

Sipping slowly, I relaxed as the sound of his boots left my earshot.

“Thank you,” I whispered. “What the fuck is he doing here?”

Linny bit her lip, her fingers thrusting into her green locks. “Um. Don’t freak out.”

My brow furrowed. “What?”

“You’re at his house.”

What the actual fuck.

Chapter 2

Leigh

After walking down the hall, I headed to the kitchen. Pulling the fridge open, I stood, staring inside and letting the cold air blast my face. She fucking woke up. A weight had been lifted. I’d sat there day after day, swearing to whatever God would listen to have mercy on her. She’d flinched and even wiggled her fingers a few times the last few days, but I didn’t get my hopes up until she started fighting everyone. Then I knew she was back.

She could hate me all she wanted. She just had to live.

I grabbed a couple of beers then pulled out my phone to text Hammer the update. He’d been cool about me not showing up at the clubhouse since we moved her here. We’d gotten her to the clinic as fast as we could when we found her lying in the dirt at Bama’s place. Sam worked hard and fast to stabilize her. Once he said there wasn’t anything else to do but wait, I demanded she be moved. Sam tried to fight it at first, but Hammer reminded him that if anyone came snooping around, it wouldn’t look good on the clinic.

We had a prospect that worked as an EMT so we arranged for proper transport. We even moved one of the beds from the clinic in because Sam said she shouldn’t be on a regular mattress. I told him I didn’t give a fuck what they did; just move her.

Bama was outside with Sofie so I walked out there to let him know she woke up. He’d brought Linny by daily to sit with her and let Sofie say hello. It was still daylight but not for long. The air was crisp, which was a welcome change to the humidity of the Alabama coast.

There wasn’t much to do for a kid at my place, but I had a dog, Bruce, and she was playing fetch with him.

Bama tipped his head when he noticed I’d come out to the porch. It overlooked my private, wooded yard. The back was surrounded by a tall privacy fence so I could let Bruce roam. I walked down the steps and he started walking closer. His dark hair was short, but it was about time for him to get a cut and his scruff was longer than normal. Hell, we all looked like shit. Between Linny getting kidnapped, finding Ollie dead, and Glenda near dead, it had been a sullen week and a half.

Bama took the beer I held out and said, “Your fucking dog is a big as my kid.” Sofie wasn’t his by blood, but she was his all the same. The blonde five-year-old was squealing as Bruce ran after a ball she tossed.

Sipping my beer, I patted my thigh and Bruce, my grey Cane Corso, came over, wagging his tail. “He’s almost as big as you. But he’s a good boy. Brucie, sit.”

Bruce sat, then snapped his jaw shut briefly before he returned to his open-mouthed slobbering and panting.

“Bruce,” Sofie called as she waved the tennis ball in the air.

Bruce’s big black eyes stared up at me and his tail wagged on the ground. I never cropped his ears or tail. Wasn’t for me. Having floppy ears didn’t make him any less of a big motherfucker, and while he was a gentle giant to Sofie, he’d rip someone’s face off if need be. And I just couldn’t bring myself to cut his tail. He’d been through enough.

“Okay Bruce, go play,” I said and he took off with the agility of a terrier.

“Maybe we should get a dog. She seems to love him,” Bama said as he sipped his beer.