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Zak led him out of the community center and across the grounds to another building he hadn’t been in before. The sound of barking grew louder, echoing through the hallways, and Connelly’s nerves prickled with a mixture of anxiety and curiosity. They entered a bright, open room filled with kennels lining the walls. Dogs of all shapes and sizes paced restlessly inside them. He scanned the room until his gaze landed on a sleek, muscular Doberman standing tall in her enclosure.
Somehow, he knew that had to be Rebel.
Her gaze locked with his, intense and unwavering, as if daring him to look away. There was an undeniable fire in her tawny eyes, a fierceness that seemed to match the name she bore.
Zak approached Rebel’s kennel with the ease of a man who was comfortable around even the most intimidating of dogs. And Rebel was the most intimidating dog Connelly had ever seen. Veronica would never have to be afraid of another attack with that beast of an animal at her side.
“Hey, my rebellious girl,” Zak called with deep affection in his voice and opened her kennel. “We found someone who needs your kind of spirit.”
Rebel’s tail wagged.
Okay, she didn’t seem so bad. “What’s her story?”
“She came from a junkyard,” Zak said.
Connelly raised an eyebrow. “A junkyard?”
Zak leaned against the kennel, his gaze fixed on Rebel as he recounted her story. “Yeah, she was abused and abandoned, left to fend for herself. But even in that bleak environment, she never lost her will to live. She fought tooth and nail to survive. I think she’ll help remind Veronica of her own strength and resilience.” He extended a hand towards Rebel, who nudged it gently with her nose. He smiled. “I’ve been doing this for a few years now, and it still amazes me how much these animals can teach us about ourselves.”
Connelly cautiously approached, keeping a safe distance as he observed Rebel’s reaction to his presence. She stood tall and proud, but there was a softness in her eyes that contradicted her intimidating appearance. As he got closer, Rebel emitted a low, rumbling growl, not out of aggression, but almost as if she were testing him.
He stopped in his tracks, unsure of how to proceed.
“She’s just sizing you up,” Zak said. “Making sure you’re worthy. Let her sniff you.”
“Okay, but if I lose a hand, you’re explaining why I can’t write anymore to my agent.”
Zak scoffed. “You’ll be fine.” His grin turned wicked. “Besides, you saw Rylan’s Terminator hand. You could easily write with that, no problem. Prosthetics have come a long way.”
Connelly eyed the man’s metal leg. If anyone knew about prosthetics, it would be Zak. But, still, he wasn’t convinced that losing a limb would be worth the potential reward of gaining Rebel’s trust.
“Hey there, Rebel,” he said in a calm and soothing voice and slowly extended his hand towards her, palm facing up in a non-threatening gesture. “I hope we can be friends.”
Rebel sniffed the air, her nostrils flaring as she analyzed his scent. Her growl subsided, and she inched closer, tentatively investigating his hand with her cold nose.
“Holy shit,” a deep voice said from the end of the corridor. “Don’t tell me Zak conned you into taking that monster.”
“Fuck off, Van,” Zak said good-naturedly. “She’s not a monster.”
Donovan Scott approached with his border collie, Spirit, trailing behind him, happily squeaking a ball in her mouth. A former Marine turned dog trainer, Donovan was a big man covered from the neck down in tattoos. A rope of scar tissue cut across his temple, giving him a menacing appearance, and he had the kind of growly voice that made you think twice about crossing him. He was an intimidating guy—at least until you got to know him and discovered he was putty in his dog’s paws and crazy in love with his pregnant wife.
“Don’t mind him,” Zak said. “Van’s just bitter because Rebel is better looking than him.”
Donovan gave a feral smile. “But at least I got the charm.”
“Is that what they call it? I thought the word was ‘ugly.’”
“Shut it, Pogo, or I’ll use your leg for firewood.”
“It’s metal, dumbass.”
Donovan grinned and turned towards Connelly. “So, you’re gonna take the infamous Rebel, huh?”
Connelly looked down at the dog in question, who had moved on from his hand to snuffle at his jacket pocket. “She’s for Veronica.”
Donovan’s smile faded, and he shot a startled look at Zak. “Anna’s gonna kill you.”
“I know,” Zak said, without much concern.
