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I feel my stomach churn. My heart pounds in my chest and the panic rises up in my throat. I’ve got a bit of a situation up at the barn, and I have no idea what to do about it.
“Okay, I’ll go up there and see what’s going on,” I reply, swallowing hard as my fear leaves a metallic taste in my mouth.
“You know you should just call Animal Control and get him taken away,” Cassie suggests, sensing my anxiety. “He’s not your responsibility, you know.”
“But he is!” I say, my voice rising an octave. “Just because his asshole owner hasn’t come back to collect him doesn’t mean I should hand him over to Animal Control. You and I both know they’ll just put him down!”
I feel the tears sting the back of my eyes at the thought of any animal being euthanized just because their human was an irresponsible douche waffle.
“Okay, take it easy,” Cassie coos in her best soothing voice. “Just make sure you check before you go into the stable, he may have gotten loose from his leash again.” She pats me on the upper arm and heads back toward the grooming parlor.
Looking up at the barn, I take a deep breath in and exhale. “Oh fuck my life,” I sigh, beginning the short walk toward the demon’s lair. As I approach, I can hear him already — barking, growling and the distinctive sound of splintering wood.
“God damn it!” I curse. I can only imagine the kind of destruction I’m going to face when I open the barn door.
It’s far worse than I thought it would be.
When I slide the door open, I’m met with pure armageddon. The stable we adapted to contain the demon dog is in the far corner of the barn, and I can already tell he’s minutes away from breaking free. The stable door has an alarmingly large hole in it, and I can see a black paw poking through it, ripping at the wood with long nails, making it bigger by the second.
I need to act quickly, so I dash over to the pile of two-by-four planks and grab my toolkit from the workbench. As I approach the stable, the barking and growling gets louder and more terrifying, accompanied by the thudding sound of a hard muscular body crashing against the wood.
“Easy dog, easy,” I soothe, trying not to let my terror infect my voice as I haphazardly hammer the plank over the hole in the stable door until it’s as reinforced as I can manage in that moment.
Relieved, I fall back onto the dusty floor, breathing heavily, flinching every time the demon flings himself at the wooden door.
What the hell is up with that dog? When the guy brought him in to board, he was muzzled but seemed calm enough. Then two nights into his week-long stay he just went berserk! He barked and howled all night and the next morning when my kennel assistant went to feed him, he scared her half to death. I had no choice but to move him up to the barn because he was whipping the rest of the dogs into a frenzy. I hate keeping him up here on his own, but hopefully it won’t be for too much longer. I know I need to make a decision about what to do with him.
When I called the number the guy left in case of an emergency, a recording told me that the number was disconnected. The emails I’ve sent just bounce back as undeliverable. That was two weeks ago and after moving him from the kennels to the barn, I’ve just been trying to figure out what the hell to do. It seems obvious the guy isn’t coming back for his dog. I hate the thought of him falling into the hands of Animal Control, but I can’t keep him here indefinitely. It’s cruel to both of us.
As the barking and growling inside the stable begin to settle down, I gingerly rise to my feet and dust the straw off my butt, creeping toward the half door. We fixed wire mesh to the top half because the demon is so big and strong, he could leap over the half door in one bound. When I reach the door, I peer in through the wire mesh and my heart stalls in my chest. The jet black German Shepherd crouches in the middle of the straw bed, his leash hanging in tatters from the metal ring on the opposite wall. His huge body is primed like a spring, literally vibrating with energy, his fur quivering as he pants heavily in and out.
Now I’ve been around dogs all my life, and I know a scared canine when I see one. For all his aggression and bluster, a dog doesn’t pant like that unless he’s exhausted or absolutely terrified. I mean it may be because he’s just launched that attack on the door, but he’s a very fit animal and even after that exertion, his breathing should’ve calmed by now.
“What are we gonna do with you, Caesar? Huh?” I whisper. “Where’s your daddy gone?”
Caesar whines and growls in response, and I decide that while he’s fairly calm, I should change his water and give him some more food. I quickly and quietly open the half door and slide a bowl of fresh water and food inside while he’s busy cocking his leg in the far corner. His stable is getting pretty dirty, and I hate the fact I can’t get in there to clean it out. Somehow I’m going to have to get a muzzle on him so I can at least make his accommodations more comfortable while I decide what to do with him.
Right now, I need to get back to the office and see if anyone has responded to my job posting. I’m not really holding out much hope, but who knows–miracles do happen.
Chapter 5
Brandon
“Two weeks?” I growl, shaking my head, my fists clenching in my jeans pockets. I’ve just been given the worst news imaginable; I’m stuck in this place for the foreseeable future.
“And that’s optimistic,” Lou replies, wiping her greasy hands on the bandana hanging from her back pocket. I know it’s not very modern of me, but I was a little taken aback when I entered Lou’s Auto Repair and was greeted by this pint-sized young woman. Roman’s laughter when I thought he was Lou suddenly made perfect sense. Lou is a tough cookie. Her dark purple hair is mostly covered by a Whalers beanie, and both her bare arms were covered in ink. Her intense blue eyes command respect, and I could tell right away that she knew what she was talking about.
“And there’s no way to source it any sooner?” I ask one more time.
“I’m sorry, man, she’s a grand old lady and her parts are hard to come by these days,” Lou replies sympathetically. “Honestly, it might be time to let her go.”
I bark out a laugh and shake my head. “No way. I’ll drive her until she can’t be fixed anymore. This is just a temporary setback.”
“Well, it’ll be a pleasure to work on her,” Lou says, dropping the hood. “I love American heavy metal, it’s a passion of mine.”
I reach out and shake Lou’s petit hand. “Thanks Lou, I know she’s in good hands.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that.” She returns my strong grip and smiles. “And you know what, there are worse places to spend a few weeks. Crescent Bay is a great little town, everyone is super friendly and the surfing is epic if you’re into that.”
