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He’d made two different lives out of his high tolerance for horror and suffering, and he knew it made him wrong, probably a psychopath, that he could so coolly deal pain to humans. It had also made him good at his jobs.
But animals were different. He was actively grieving now for this little puppy he’d met five minutes ago and her dead mom.
Selfish, petty, casually cruel human beings were supposed to have souls, but animals, whose only instinct was survival, were not? Especially those who formed packs, working together to keep each other safe and strong. The idea that animals didn’t have souls was bullshit. People sucked. Animals were perfect.
When the pup was warm and calm, Dex grabbed the blanket off the ground and went back to his truck. He fashioned a nest on the passenger seat and eased the pup out of his coat and into the nest, covering her up completely and turning the heater on full blast. Then he went back, worked the dead dog out from under the bush.
“Fuck me,” he muttered to himself when he saw the state of the carcass in full daylight. It looked like she’d been attacked by another dog, and she’d fought to the death for her pup—or pups, maybe. Had there been others? Had the victorious dog eaten them?
He wrapped the carcass in plastic and taped the sheeting closed, then lay flat on the ground again to scan under the bush. No sign of any other pup, dead or alive.
Okay. He lifted the carcass and carried it to his truck. After he laid it in the bed, he put his gear away and closed the tailgate. Then he got back behind the wheel.
The pup was still fully tucked inside the thick quilt, and it was downright hot in the cab now. He lifted the edge of the quilt and saw her sleeping, her shockingly thin side heaving with the effort of each shallow breath.
“We’re gonna get you some help, baby girl. Don’t you worry.”
He put the truck in gear and changed course.
~oOo~
The Cedar Ridge Veterinary Center was nowhere near Dex’s house or the Bulls compound, there were probably ten more conveniently located vet clinics, but Kelsey worked at Cedar Ridge, so all the Bulls with pets went there. It was a stupidly fancy place, as much a pet spa as a medical clinic, with a grooming center, a water therapy pool, daycare and short-term boarding facility—everything the well-heeled Tulsa pet owner could want to pamper their four-legged babies.
The well-heeled Tulsa pet owner and the Brazen Bulls MC.
As Dex entered the reception area, in his Sinclair greens and with a half-dead stray pup cuddled against his chest, the several women waiting for their appointments, designer pet purses on their laps or perfectly groomed dogs on gleaming leather leads at their feet, all tensed and drew their belongings closer. As if they expected him to ransack the vet clinic.
Unless he was doing something to incite it, he absolutely hated the feeling that came with knowing people were afraid of him. Lots of his brothers in the club—most of them, probably—got off on making Jane Housewife clutch her pearls and Joe Cubicle step back. Dex had hated it from childhood, those days when it wasn’t fear but plain old suspicion making everybody check twice for their wallets around the grubby, antsy kid.
Fear was better than that, but best of all would be just being allowed to exist. He wasn’t going to hurt anyone unless they deserved it—and who deserved it was hardly ever his call.
He was like Ripper: raised and trained to be a certain way, then hated and feared for being exactly what he was made to be.
Forcing himself to ignore the sidelong looks from perfectly made-up faces, he went to the desk. He knew a few of the support staff here by name, but the girl smiling up at him now was unfamiliar to him.
She didn’t look scared. She looked interested. That was the other side of being a guy like him: some chicks dug it. Fear junkies. Those chicks were usually disappointed once they got one-on-one with him. He was way too quiet and boring for their tastes.
“Hi,” the girl said. “Can I help you?”
“Yeah, I need to see Kelsey. Dr. Helm?”
“She’s with a patient right now. Would you like to make an appointment?”
He lowered the zipper on his jacket and exposed the pup.
“Oh!” the girl squealed—then her reaction shifted as she really saw the pup. “Oh. Oh, poor baby.”
“She was on the side of the road, with her dead mom. Mom’s body’s in my truck bed. I need Kelsey to help her.”
“Dr. Helm is booked solid today, but I can put you with one of our—”
Not remotely interested in any other vet, Dex cut her off. “Kelsey. I want Kelsey. Tell her Dex is here and needs help.”
The girl considered him more closely. “Oh! Are you afriend?”
When Kelsey had finished her degree, she’d had a rough start, despite being second in her graduating class. She’d been let go from two different clinics after Bulls had brought their pets in to support her. Mav had wanted the club to stake her in her own clinic, he’d brought the idea to the table and they’d voted it, but Kelsey had insisted she was too inexperienced to run her own shop. And she was probably right.
Finally—though Kelsey didn’t know it—her father and Becker, the Bulls’ previous president, had stepped in and made a deal with the vet who owned Cedar Ridge. Now, here, the Bulls were welcome and Kelsey’s job was secure.
