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“Spencer,” Pace drawls. He’s a carrot colored man, small and fine-boned with a receding hairline. “What owes us the pleasure for the second time this day?”
Gritting my teeth, I walk over to their table and they both shift in their seats, exchanging glances as if they think I’m a loose cannon. Hey...anything’s possible when Jean’s involved. Pressing my fingers into the desk, I lean forward, digging my eyes into theirs.
“What hold do you have over Jean Ibbotson?” I growl. “What did you tell her to force her to agree to be used like a damn pawn?”
“You oughtta calm down, Cart,” Arkin says, raising his hands, while his black eyes fire in his greasy, fake-tan face. “This is just business.”
“Don’t fucking test me!” I slam my palm into the desk and this time they jump. Arkin’s the first one to cave. He tells me they bribed Jean with a now retired dog, one that she apparently has a special connection with and can’t stand being separated from. She’s so attached to the dog that she was willing to do anything, just so they wouldn’t take him away from her.
My jaw grinds. “You’re giving her the animal,” I warn, “or I’ll raise hell. I’ll go to every single magazine in the country and tell them what really goes on in Blackwater and how you deep down don’t give a rat’s ass about your employees or the risks they take, so you can sit here and smoke your fat cigars.”
I yank Arkin’s cigar out of his hand and put it out in a nearby plant. Pace heaves in his chair, clasping his hands over his belly while regarding me carefully.
“That wasn’t part of the deal. She was supposed to make you stay, however you resigned this morning...”
Annoyance flares in me. “Ignore that,” I grit. “I’m staying.” Jean will probably never be able to leave her animals. I get that now. They’re like her babies and she’ll never turn her back on Blackwater because of them. Which means I can’t either. “I’ll be your soldier, I’ll fight your battles but if you ever...” I lean forward and my lip curls over my teeth, “mess with my Jean again, I’ll nail your heads to the wall.”
They don’t say anything, just slowly nod in an attempt to retain their weak dignity and I walk off, heading straight for the kennel.
Now, where’s that mutt.
There’s a ton of them in here, locked up in cages and they whine or bark as I pass them by. I search for the name tag and stop when I see one that saysPistol. The Belgian Malinois rests in a corner, his head locked between his palms and he looks up in surprise when he sees me.
Grabbing his leash, I open up his cage and put it around his neck. At first he’s suspicious, growling at me but I rather like him. He’s more than capable of protecting Jean, judging by those choppers.
“It’s your lucky day, mutt,” I grunt, leading him down the passage. “You’re going home.”
At least one of us is.
Seven
Jean
Curled up in an armchair by the window, I hug the cushion to my chest. After work, I went straight home. I tried to see what Carter was up to, before leaving but he was still in the office with the bosses. He had no business going in there. It’s useless.
I look out the window and blink when Carter’s words come to mind. He declared that he feels something for me and my chest blooms. It feels good to know that, no matter what happens between us. I wish he was here right now. Holding me, sneaking a hand down between my legs while kissing me in that desperate way he always does.
He might not be a man of many words but his kisses say a thousand of them.
Prickles make my skin tingle, and I’m thinking I better jump in the shower and douse myself in cold water when there’s a knock on the door.
“Coming,” I call, dragging a hair through my hair just in case it’s Carter. I open up-my breath punches out of me and suddenly it hits me just how deeply I crave this man with every bone in my body.
His jaw is stern, eyes flat as if he doesn’t want to show what lingers behind but his actions tell me everything. He brought my fur baby home. My eyes tear up when Pistol lets out a thrilled bark, before jumping around me in fierce hoops, until he almost knocks me over.
“What is this?” I croak, wanting to grab some glue and cover Carter in it, then attach myself to him. “Did they...?”
“He’s yours,” Carter rasps and the look in his eyes flickers. “For life. They’ll never take him away from you again.”
A lump forms in my throat because he has no idea what he’s done. I’m so grateful, I could scream. I handfed Pistol because his mom rejected him; I trained him and was there with him in every step of the way. When he was forced to retire because he couldn’t get over his fear of loud sounds, I knew I couldn’t give him up.
Letting go of Pistol, I watch him jump up on the couch and tear a vase down at the same time but I couldn’t care less. “Carter...,” I begin and my voice shakes from emotion.
He jerks his head.
“I’ll leave you alone with your friend.” His jaw hardens and there’s a flash of bitterness in his eyes. “See you at work. We’ll talk or not if you’d rather remain professional.” He’s about to turn around when I blurt,
“Where are you going?”
