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“I know.” He took a slow step forward, both hands wrapped around the fire poker. “Don’t move.”
“But it’s—”
“I said,don’t move!”
She screamed when the creature lunged, trying to shield her body with what remained of the chair as Rafe rushed forward. There was a terrible, muffled sound like someone beating a rug as the iron poker collided with the dog-wolf’s head. Rafe let out a grunt and brought the poker down again, and then again—whomph, whomph, whomph.
When the sound started to sound wet, he let the poker fall with a muted clang, his sweat-soaked chest heaving. Mere feet away from her, close enough to kick, the dog-wolf had been reduced to a ragged pile of blood and fur, and where it’s face had been, there was only—
“Oh God.”
Distantly, she heard Rafe say something over the high-pitched ringing in her ears. She turned blindly and felt the sting of sweat on her back like a hot burn.It bit me, she thought wildly.It bit me, and now I’m infected. But I’ve been infected this whole time.
Something solid hit her back and she let herself go limp.
???????
Donni slumped in his arms, her head lolled back against his bicep. Rafe dropped to his knees and carefully laid her down a good distance away from the dead creature—wolf or dog, whatever it was. He unzipped the jacket, baring her to the throat, and looked at her anxiously.
She was pale but breathing, so he slipped his phone out of her pocket to call the police.
The neighbors are going to get a lot of mileage out of this, he thought, hanging up the phone. Then he pushed at her face, and shook her gently. She groaned.
“Hey,” he said. “You awake?”
She stirred, pushing her hair out of her eyes. It was knotted around her shoulders, but somehow the tiger lily had stayed put, and that glowing orange flower peeking out of that heavy tangle of hair nearly made her look sweet as she tilted her head up to look at him.
“What did I—oh God. The dog.”
“It’s dead and the police are on their way. You might want to change,” he added. “You look like you’re doing a shoot for a leather daddy edition ofPlayboy.”
She made a face and stumbled, trying to get to her feet. He tugged her up by the hands and held her, not wanting to let go. “Careful,” he said mildly.
“Thanks,” she said with wounded dignity, before breaking from his grip and walking away. As she opened the door to her room, he heard her sweet-talking her distressed little dog.
Stupid, lucky dog, Rafe thought darkly.
He slipped into the master bedroom, intent on cleaning himself up a little before the cops arrived. As he studied his reflection in the full-length mirror—positioned in front of the bed, he couldn’t help notice—he saw several dark splotches on his once-white T-shirt. Grimacing, he crossed his arms and pulled it off, twisting to examine his hip. There was a jagged wound just about where a tramp stamp would be. A little love tap, courtesy of his father’s smashed-up bar.
“Fucking hell,” he muttered.
He used his T-shirt to blot at it, wincing a little at the sting. The doorbell rang before he could prod at it further and see if something was inside. He cursed and tossed the shirt aside and went to answer the door, shooting a backwards glance at Donni’s room on his way down the stairs.
Her door was still closed.
There were two cops on the doorstep: Officers Jenna Corcoran and Josh Rosa. He remembered Corcoran from being a kid; she’d always been a real buzzkill. Josh was closer to his own age. They’d even gone to a few of the same parties, though Josh was a little older.
Corcoran eyed him, looking at his chest and then, for a heartbeat, lower.Youarea dirty cop, he thought, grimly amused when the uniform blushed.
“You called about a break in?” Officer Rosa said.
“As you can see.” He gestured to the bottom part of the boutique door, now bereft of its leaded inlaid glass. “I heard the crash from upstairs and then I heard the dog.”
“Where is this dog now? Is it still on the premises?”
“It’s dead in the upstairs hallway. Self-defense. I’ll show you.” He paused a heartbeat. “Hopefully no one’s missing it, although it didn’t look to me like it had an owner.”
As they headed for the stairs as a small group, both cops stiff and wary, he saw Officer Rosa clock the smashed-in bar. “That’s where it tried to bite me,” Rafe said, before they could ask. “I beat it off with a fire poker and ended up breaking the bar top when it couldn’t hold my weight.”
