Page 47 of Bloody Quarter

Her eyes glistened just like the stars twinkled in the night sky. A single tear trickled free and slid over my fingers. “I…I….” she gripped my hand over her heart and closed her eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you, Alora.”

“Call me Doll.” Surprising me, she attacked my mouth, and I opened for her. Taking the frame from her hands, I set it aside before pulling her close.

Fuck breakfast.

She wrapped her legs around my waist when I picked her up. I walked over to the stove and turned everything off before pushing her back up against the wall. Alora wiggled against me as she deepened the kiss. I pulled my sweatpants down and lined myself up with her.

“Scream for me, Doll,” I said as I thrust into her.

Mine.

Alora

You have got to be kidding me.

I was serving drinks to police officers, military officials and heads of special needs organizations. Not only was I serving them, but Greyson, the serial killer, was shaking hands, smiling, and joking with everyone like he was their best friend. There wouldn’t have been a cop in a hundred miles that believed my story of this man being my stalker. No wonder the detective looked at me like I was losing my mind. He probably thought I was his stalker. Fucking ironic.

Not that I wanted to go anywhere now, but that was beside the point. It felt like the deck had been stacked against me before I knew I was playing the game. I wandered around with a tray of wine and beer and knew that Greyson had given it to me on purpose. It was not only a test, but there was a deeper meaning I was still trying to sort out. Maybe he was trying to prove to me that I didn’t need it. Perhaps, between here and the bar, it was a way of desensitizing me with overexposure.

Whatever his reasoning, so far, not a single urge had risen. I wasn’t cured. It wasn’t like you could cure what was wrong with me, but my addiction had taken a turn in another direction. I struggled to rationalize how I could know all the terrible things he’d done and yet feel like I had to have him in my life. Maybe I was addicted to pleasure that caused me pain because Greyson checked both those boxes.

I finished adding drinks to my tray and walked to the high-top table where Greyson was chatting with a General.

“Mr. Laurent, General, would either of you care for another refreshment,” I asked sweetly and smiled.

“Thank you. I wouldn’t mind another.” The General took a glass of wine and then pointed to the plush seats that were set up by the demo arena. “I think I’m going to go get a prime spot before the show starts.”

“Remember what I said. We can train them to do anything you need. We only breed the best,” Greyson said before the General nodded and walked away. “Thank you for doing this,” Greyson whispered in my ear before giving my cheek a chaste kiss. He swiped a small napkin and some fresh fruit and cheese off the table. “Did you like the tour of the operation?”

“You mean, did I like how you managed to smack them all in the face with the evidence they are looking for? Then sure.” I was never going to forget Greyson taking large handfuls of meat, vegetables, and fruit and putting them through a grinder to show what the dogs ate. I didn’t even have to ask. The look in his eyes as he glanced my way told me all I needed to know.

“Not impressed?”

“Um…it’s certainly ingenious, but I’m not going to be volunteering to make their food any time in the near future.”

Greyson smirked. “You might surprise yourself. It’s quite cathartic.”

I wanted to gag. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Does it really bother you that much?” There was concern in his tone, but I shook my head, and he visibly relaxed, popping a strawberry into his mouth. Greyson nodded to the demo area as Rodney and four dogs walked into the sandy arena. “Let’s go,” he said, with pride in his voice. For all the insanity that surrounded him, there were parts so normal that it was difficult to wrap my brain around the fact that the two sides belonged to the same person.

Setting the tray down, I let Greyson guide me to an empty seat. His hand was hot as it lay at the small of my back. When I sat down, I realized I was sitting between two of the most powerful men in the country. Didn’t they have people under them that could come to a demo like this? Then again, maybe they liked the downtime.

Greyson stepped over the low fence and picked up a wireless microphone. “Good evening, everyone. I want to start by thanking each of you for your interest in my breeding and training program. The dogs that you see tonight are only a few weeks away from graduating and will be ready to go to their prospective handlers. There will be a total of eight demonstrations, the first four dogs that you see before you are learning a variety of military and police tasks.” Greyson made a wide sweep of the arena that had been designed with four distinct quadrants: grass, sand, water, and extreme obstacles. At the very center was a course with little flags. “Here at Bourbon Bayou, we do things a little differently than other breeding programs. We will not allow a single dog to leave before they are fully trained, and we let the dogs tell us what tasks they enjoy and then enhance their natural personality traits. Whichever dog you choose, you can’t go wrong. We’ll start with Boomer. He is aptly nicknamed for his bravery and nose for sniffing out landmines. Rodney, take it away.”

Everyone leaned forward to watch the dog work, and I found myself following suit. I hardly saw Rodney move, but Boomer stepped forward from the group sitting like perfect statues, turned, and walked by his side. I’d never seen anything like this before, and I watched in complete fascination as Rodney gave a command, and Boomer began sniffing the ground, weaving back and forth in front of Rodney. As soon as Boomer detected one, he would stop, point with his nose, and whine. Rodney marked the spot with a tiny white flag. This went on eight more times. Some of the devices were only a foot apart, and what I assumed could’ve been confusing for the dog was quickly pointed out. The very last one, he pointed, and instead of whining, he began to bark. Rodney placed a blue flag on that spot before giving Boomer a treat and sending the dog running back into line with the others.

“Let’s see how well he did,” Greyson said and picked up a shovel. He dug around each flag, and sure enough, he lifted a wide assortment of landmines. “I assure you, none of them are active,” he said, setting them aside before going to the last one. “I’m sure you’re all wondering why this spot was treated differently.” Greyson dug around the flag and pulled out a garbage bag. Inside was a tiny baggie of pills. Greyson waved it in the air. “Not only can Boomer find landmines and drugs, but he is an exceptional tracker and cadaver dog. You need it sniffed out. He will find it,” Greyson said, smiling. “Sheriff Moore, did you ever find your wedding band?”

“Shh, don’t mention that. My wife still hasn’t forgiven me.” Everyone chuckled.

“Well, I can guarantee that if you take Boomer home, he will find it for you.”

“I might just have to try that,” the sheriff said, laughing and lifting his beer into the air.

The rest of the demonstration was similar, with all the dogs showing off what they were bested suited for. As impressive as it was to watch the dogs walk along ropes, climb walls, and, in general, look like fur-covered soldiers, it was the service dogs that had my mouth falling open. Cancer detection, seizure warning, leading those with visual impairments, the list of what they could do was endless. For some reason, watching them work and knowing the good they would do and how they would give someone protection and independence brought a tear to my eye.