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Barking erupts in the bedroom.
That's not a playful bark. Casey is upset.
I shut off the water and hustle to the bathroom door. "Casey, what's the bother?"
The pup stands at the window with his front paws on the sill.
Erica hurries out of the bathroom wearing a towel.
Casey's barking becomes growling. His lips, flapping from the ferocity of his snarls, draw back from his sharp canine teeth.
I race to the window and jerk the curtains aside.
"What is it?" Erica asks, hurrying to my side.
A shocked face gawps back at us from the other side of the glass. Presley thebod ceannspins around and takes off running.
I yank my jeans on and sprint out of the house.
"Wait!" Erica yells, running after me.
Hurling the door open, I gallop into the night.
Casey rockets past me and latches onto Presley's trouser leg, snarling and preventing thecacanfrom fleeing. Presley tries to kick at the dog but loses his balance and stumbles.
I seize Presley's shirt and hoist him off the ground.
"Casey!" Erica shouts, clapping her hands until the dog detaches his teeth from Presley's trouser leg.
The dog scampers over to her.
I shake Presley hard.
He sputters and flails his fists at me but can't land a punch on anything more sensitive than my biceps. The bloody ersehole is a weakling too. I'm hardly surprised by that fact. I doubt a spoiled bastard like him has ever lifted anything heavier than a wine glass.
Erica herds Casey into the house, shutting the door after him.
"What the hell do ye think yer doing?" I roar while rattling thecacanagain. "Spying on a wee lass? I'm gonnae skite mah fist on yer face till yer spitting teeth."
"I was looking for Erica, that's all," Presley whines.
"Haud yer wheesht, ye bloody bawbag!" My spittle spatters Presley's face. "Ye've been rummeled this time, and ye willnae get away with it."
"With what?" The ereshole's voice squeaks faintly. "I haven't done anything. You're the one going ape shit and hollering nonsense. I came to see Erica, heard a weird noise, and checked it out."
"And then yer erse fell off." My breaths huff out my nostrils, and I can't stop my lips from curling with disgust. "Means yer a liar, ye eejit."
Erica sprints up to me and slaps her hands on my left arm. "Put him down, Lachlan. Please."
I rotate my gaze to her but maintain my grip on Presley.
She squeezes my arm. "Do it for me."
Grudgingly, I unlatch my fingers from thebod ceann's shirt.
Presley crumples to the ground in a jumble of legs and arms.
I swipe my palms together like I'm ridding myself of his filth and tip my chin up, aiming a flinty glare at the man lying in a heap on the grass.
