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It was going to take me a goddamn month to learn how to say that.
“Xolo-dog,” I tried. I considered it a win that Doc didn’t correct me again.
“She won’t tell me. Just keeps screaming ‘no’ over and over again,” Ward reported. Neither one of us mentioned the fact that if he wanted to, he couldmakethe dead woman tell him what he wanted to know. But I also knew that he didn’t like doing that if it could be helped.
Sometimes Ward’s ethics can be annoying, even if I appreciated them in theory.
I sighed, then looked back at the Xolo-dog.
It looked up at me with huge, mismatched eyes—one brown and one a milky white that probably meant it was blind on that side—tilted its head, and whined. Fuck.
Then I noticed what looked like blood.
“Doc, I think our new friend was either at the murder or got hurt or both.”
Doc grunted, and we exchanged a look. If the dog was injured, one of us was going to have to get in the dumpster.
I sighed. Doc would do it if I asked him to, but it really should be me.
“Fucking hell,” is what I said out loud. Then I stripped off my coat and handed it to Ward to hold so it didn’t get covered in blood and whatever the fuck else was in the dumpster. “Give me a boost, here, Doc?”
Doc held out his big green hands, fingers interlaced, and I used them like a step, having to suppress a bit of a yelp as he practically launched me into the fucking dumpster.
Thankfully, I kept one hand on the edge of the damn thing so I didn’t end up face-first in a literal pile of stinking trash. I shot him a look as I caught myself, and he looked a little startled.
“Sorry. You’re lighter than you look.”
I harumphed. He was used to slinging around Ward, who is a tiny thing, so I suppose any normal-sized person must seem huge. And yeah, I’m tall, but I’m an elf for fuck’s sake. We don’t come with a lot of bulk.
Annoyed, I turned my attention back to my companion in garbage hell, who had backed up even farther into the corner, its ears flat and its head ducked down.
“Careful, Hart,” Doc warned me.
I shot him a look.
He nodded at the dog. “Our new friend there doesn’t trust you.”
“No fucking shit, Doc,” I retorted. “I’m a big scary elf who just got shit-tossed into its dumpster. It’s covered in blood, either because its friend just got murdered in front of it or because someone tried to murder it, and now this stranger comes jumping into its trash can? Of course it’s not going to be happy about me.”
The dog growled at me.
“I don’t think you’re helping your case, Hart,” Doc replied coolly.
Doc is the most unflappable person I’ve ever met—and I met him handcuffed. He hadn’t done anything wrong then or the time I’d gotten him released from jail—when he’d been arrested for attempting to murder his now-husband, whom he hadn’t, for the record, actually attempted to murder.
I reached out a hand toward the damn dog, which skinned its lips back from its teeth at me.
“Oh, come on, here. I’m trying to fuckinghelpyou.”
That got me a growl.
“Hey, Hart?”
“What?”
“Try being less of an asshole.”
“Fuck you, Doc.”
