Page 116 of Not Mine to Rescue

But without someone, or some… thing in your corner, it was unbearable. Molly saved me then.

Sure, Wombat had Dumb Ass, and his sister, and the club, but tonight he’d wanted to be alone.

And I wouldn’t let him be alone.

Would that make me a villain?

I pulled over before the driveway, trying to chicken out. Molly alternated between looking out the window and looking at me.

“I know. You want me to go there. Do you really think I’m ready though? I mean, this could make him really angry with me. Remember that day at the park? You wanted to go down the trail and I just wanted to…”

I wasn’t suicidal. I wasn’t.

“And you saved me.” I laughed bitterly. “You and your weak bladder.” I sat on that cliff face and Molly whined and tugged at the leash. It forced me to get up, walk away from the ledge and let her sniff bushes until she found just the right one to lift a leg up on. By that point, we were far enough away the empty air didn’t tempt me anymore.

Each day since was an exercise in filling the space with enough activity to keep going. “One step in front of the other.” It was the same thing I’d said to her as we left the park behind.

Which is something maybe Wombat needed to hear. And if he hated me for it, so be it. I’d survive.

I pulled in the driveway and parked near his place. The night was still and cold. There was an underlying mix of smells that proved the world was waking up, but the last throes of winter were still dug in but rotting away like the bony fingers of death.

Molly shot out of the car almost as soon as I opened the door. The leash I clipped on in the car was dangling from my grip. The collar grounding it in the mud where she’d slipped free.

“Molly!” I realized there might be people sleeping and lowered my yelling to a harsh whisper and ran after her. Her paws hit the door, and it popped open.

Wombat was sure to know we were here now.

I pushed in, an apology on my lips, but I wasn’t prepared.

The first thing I saw was the way Wombat had a woman pinned against the wall. The second was the dangling belt buckle. My skin flashed hot. But then I took a moment to really look. There was a gun in her hand. Wombat had pinned that to the wall, his fingers covering hers and smashing down hard. She clawed at his arm, fingernails digging in so hard one had drawn blood. It dripped down his arm as they both stared at me silhouetted in the doorway.

“Honor leave!”

The woman screamed over his order. “You bitch! I saw you with him last night when I followed you from the clubhouse. Wombat is mine, remember that. I’m so going to enjoy killing you.”

Molly growled.

That’s what broke my freeze. Instinctively, I reached for my cell phone and without thinking tried to unlock it.

Wombat yelled at me again, but his voice cut off. I looked up in time to see the woman’s knee fall back into place and him crumple away.

Molly rushed into the gap, latching onto the woman’s arm while emitting growls I’d never heard from her before.

“Let go of me, you stupid dog.” She hit Molly with the butt of the pistol to make Molly lose her grip. But Molly only latched on harder, taking each blow with a growl.

I saw red.

I picked up the nearest object I could find that had weight. It was the custom leather bound edition of Black’s Law Dictionary I’d loaned to Wombat. He’d left it on his kitchen counter. It was dog-eared and bookmarked with Post-its and pieces of paper sticking out from between the pages.

Funny, it had sat for years on Jim’s bookshelf. Then months on mine after the divorce. I don’t think either of us ever opened it. He’d given it to me on our third anniversary. But he also displayed it on his bookshelf like a trophy. I’d fought for the damn thing on principle, not because I wanted it, but because he’d liked it so much.

The woman turned the gun around and pointed it at Molly’s skull.

“Winter, no!” Wombat crawled to his feet and tried to put his body between them.

He knew her?

Was this a misunderstanding? What had I walked into? Yeah. One of my women. I fucked her in December.