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The dog snarls, a low warning to back the fuck off. When he feels like Declan is done, he settles his head into the divot of my chest, using my breasts as a pillow. I scratch the top of his head.
“Go and get him a treat,” I say.
I start to tell him where they are, but stop. He knows already. Because he was here when I gave him treats after he mauled the intruder. A shiver runs through me at the memory. Two times is too many, and I never want to have someone unwanted come into my home again.
Declan narrows his eyes at Bruce. “Just tell him to get off, Sammy.”
I let out a snort, then press a kiss to Bruce’s nose. “He’s protecting me from you. We need to show him you’re not a threat, and that he has to listen to you.”
He lets out a curse under his breath, but stands up to head for the kitchen. And when he comes back, he’s holding the entire bag of treats, shaking the bag in front of Bruce. His ears twitch at the familiar sound, and his head cocks to the side.
“What if an intruder gives him food?” Declan asks. “Will he stop being an overprotective dickhead?”
“No. He only takes treats with permission.”
I tap on his back, and he hops off the couch without me needing to tell him. Then I sit upright. “Okay. There are a few basic commands that he will listen to for anyone he knows is a friendly. Then there are some he won’t listen to, unless they’re given by me.”
I grin, remembering the sight of him on the counter while Em tortured him. I may have sat and watched the show for a moment before intervening. The way she’d been grinning, the way her green eyes sparkled, a hint of Ian in that little dimple on her cheek. I wanted to soak it up for a moment before my dragon of a daughter returned.
“This morning, he wouldn’t have bitten you. Em knew that. She was just fucking with you.”
Declan grunts, staring at the dog. “I want him to obey if I give it,” he says. “I want him to trust me to help him keep you safe.”
My chest aches with the sudden fullness humming inside of me. Doubt is there, too, but I try to push it away. I don’t want to give into the dark thoughts, the negative energy I’m so used to being caught up in.
“Let’s start with the basics,” I tell him. I make a fist with my hand and raise it in front of Bruce. “We use both verbal and nonverbal commands. It helps his concentration, but also, if I’m unable to speak, he knows to look to me for direction. This isSitzen.”
Bruce cocks his head to the side, then does what I’ve commanded.
“Good boy,” I say, leaning forward to give him pats. I raise a single finger in the air, then drag it to the floor. “Platz.” Bruce lies down without missing a beat. I place my hand diagonally over my chest. “Hiereis come.” I dip my head toward the opposite side of the room. “Start with his name, then come.”
I watch from the couch as Declan works with Bruce for a good twenty minutes. He gives him a command. Bruce listens, then he praises him with head scratches and treats. Over and over, until Bruce grows bored, and Declan catches on.
“We’re pretty informal with him, but I still do training. If we’re just lying around and he’s being a typical dog, I tell him to go lay down. Or if I’m scratching him and want his paw, I just hold out my hand. If he’s feeling a little clingy, he’ll come over and set his paw on my lap. It’s his way of holding hands.”
Declan’s sitting beside me now, and Bruce climbs up between us. He naturally curls up on me, resting his head in my lap, but when Declan reaches out and scratches the spot just above his rear end, Bruce lifts his head to lick his hand.
“What’s with the Bruce and Batman thing? When do you call him what?”
I shrug. “They’re nicknames, we just swap between them. Max calls him Batman the most. Em calls him Brucey Boy, or Bat Boy. And I . . .” I smirk. “I usually call him Bruce. But that day in the kitchen, I gave into the irony of our safe word.”
“Which is now useless.” He snorts. “I’m not trying to get my ass bitten while I’m fucking you, doll.”
I raise a brow. “Something tells me you’d like that.”
He smirks. “Only if you were the one doing the biting.”
He inhales sharply and his sudden mood change also shifts the energy in the air. He scratches at his eyebrow, a nervous laugh escaping. “Sammy. I have something I need to tell you.”
“What’s wrong?” I chew on the inside of my cheek, trying to play it cool.
He swipes his hands against his shorts. He’s stalling, and fuck, the anticipation makes me want to vomit.
“The man from the wedding,” he says.
I force a tight smile and dip my chin for him to continue. I don’t think I want to hear whatever he’s about to tell me, but I have to know. Maybe it's closure I need, or maybe I just need to know justice was served. That whoever hurt Ian isn’t around anymore.
“Baby,” he says, grabbing my hands and placing them in his lap. “We haven’t talked about what it is I do. I mean, the real thing I do for the family business. And I think I need to tell you that before I can tell you the rest.”
