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Accepting my decision, Savannah reaches down and unbuckles her seatbelt.
Mirroring her movements, I climb out of the car, stopping briefly to open the back door and retrieve her purse.
When I circle around the back of my Suburban, I find Savannah standing next to her open door, and take it as a win that she didn’t attempt to sprint to the fence.
“Come on.” I step up next to her, reaching behind her to close the car door. “Let’s go inside.”
My hand automatically rises to press against her lower back, but I stop. She might be my type, but she’s not here on a date.
Then, I remember she’s my prisoner, and I can do whatever I want to her, so I continue the motion until my palm is pressed against her spine.
She jumps a little, but doesn’t push me away.Another win.
We’re nearly at the steps when a deep, ominous bark cuts through the night.
I stop and curl my fingers into the back of Savannah’s shirt, stopping her with me.
The low bark sounds like more of a growl this time and it’s closer.
“What’s that?” Savannah takes a step closer, pressing her side against mine.
I bite down on a smile.
I don’t think she realizes that she movedto mefor protection.
“That’s my dog,” I tell her, as the all-black, one hundred and ten pound, Cane Corso lumbers toward us.
“That’s not a dog, it’s a damn monster!” She tries to move behind me, but my grip on her shirt prevents her.
I round my lips and let out a short whistle. Knowing his command, my big boy picks up the pace.
“Hold!” I command, and he does as expected, letting out another loud growl.
Savannah squeaks and presses further into me, meaning the command worked as desired.
“Stand down.” He listens and the growls stop. Dark eyes flick between me and Savannah and I know he’s thinkingwhat the fuck, man? You just told me to intimidate her in place and now you’re telling me to chill? Pick a lane.To which I nonverbally replywe need her to be scared of you because I’m keeping her against her will.He blinks.Like a pet?I blink.Well, now that you mention it…
“Is he, or she, friendly?” Savannah’s question interrupts our conversation.
The real answer is a little complicated, because he’s the best goddamn dog to ever walk this earth. And he’d never ever hurt anyone that didn’t deserve it. But he’s also trained to protect me and mine, so there are times that he’s decidedly unfriendly.
“No,” I answer, and I can feel the canine outrage at my response. “He’s a highly trained security tool. He won’t attack without being provoked.” I silently beg his forgiveness as I say this next part. “But if he sees someone running, hewilltake them down. And dog teeth don’t feel great when they’re puncturing your thigh.”
The huff of air that leaves the dog sounds like indignation, but Savannah must not translate it the same way because I feel her tremble against me.
It’s the proper instinctual reaction to being growled at by a dog this size. And since she’s considerably smaller than me, themonster, as she calls him, stands around hip height.
“Never had a dog, I take it?” I find myself curious.
She shakes her head. “No. Well, my mom had this tiny little thing that would bite everyone and never left her side. Or lap.”
I grimace. “Not the same.”
Savannah tries to back up a step again. “Not the same.”
I keep her at my side. “This one only bites when provoked.” Before the too smart canine can ruin the story I’m weaving, I lift my free hand, pointing down the driveway. “Gate.”
I swear he rolls his eyes at me, before he turns from us and gallops toward the front gate. Following his command perfectly. I feel a little bad about sending him there for no reason, but I know the gate guards will give him attention. Once I have Savannah squared away, I’ll bring him in the house to apologize.
