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I nod stiffly and guide Juniper down the hallway and through the door that leads to the treatment room. Inside, I check my burner phone and see there’s no message. No warning, no indication he should be late or swapped with another person.Shit, shit, shit.
I give Juniper some treats and soothe her as I check her legs, her hips, her paws, her eyes and mouth. She’s healthy and well. Still, a strange sense of dread uncoils low in my stomach. There’s something off about this.
The troubling sensation only worsens when I realize there’s no way that guy could know anything about her besides her breed.
By the time I’ve finished checking Juniper over, I have two burning questions.
How did he know her name when she has no collar and no internal tag? And why does he want to speak to her owner so badly?
I exit the consultation room with a sick feeling in my stomach.
The sound of claws clicking on the sticky linoleum floor signals my return. I laugh nervously as Juniper jumps up onto my chest and starts to lick my throat. “So, I actually couldn’t find any information aboutJuniper’s owner. Did you happen to know what street you found her on? I can post a picture of her on a local Facebook group, and maybe they could—”
“No need. The owner is on his way.” The man clicks his fingers in Juniper’s direction and the dog complies, trotting over to his side and sitting at his feet. She’s incredibly well trained to respond to someone she’s only just met.
I can’t keep the concern from my face, my brows creasing in an obvious frown. “How did you get in contact with them?”
He twists the watch on his wrist before checking a message on his phone. He slips it away without replying as he answers, “Oh, we’ve known each other for a long time.” He offers a stiff smirk in my direction. Then his face becomes devoid of emotion. Unmovable.
The rain softens outside the clinic, the sun blinking into existence for a fraction of a second. The hairs on my arm rise up.
I want to ask him more questions, but time is ticking, and my patience is cracking.
Footsteps echo outside the door. Someone is storming toward the clinic.
“Ah, here he is.” The handsome stranger adjusts his stance, spreads his feet, and folds his hands across his abdomen.
What the hell?
“I’d brace yourself if I were you.”
2
Etta
‘Tough Guy’ - Benee
Idon’t brace myself like the man suggested. And I know I’ve made a critical mistake when a familiar face enters, swinging the doors of the clinic open and pausing on the threshold with a shivering chihuahua in his grip. Greg is in his late sixties, short and slightly rounded in the middle. Gray hair, black eyebrows, wearing a white button shirt and dark trousers, as if he just came from his desk job.
His face transitions from pale olive to bright beetroot as his eyes move from me, to the stranger, to the retriever, who wags her tail as if she recognizes him. I watch in horror as the chihuahua jumps and wrestles out of Greg’s hold. The animal lands on its feet and darts into the parking lot like it can’t get away fast enough. He doesn’t eventryto get it back, he’s so focused on Juniper.
“Sir! Your—”
“Who do you think you are, stealing my dog?!” I’m rooted to the spot, my mouth snapping closed. I’m utterly shocked by the sheer ferocity of his voice, the magnitude. He’s never ever spoken like that to me. He barely speaks to me at all. Just names the price, checks the amount in the boxes and stands by his car as I load them into the trunk behind the clinic, where the cameras are faulty.
What the fuck is going on?
My head swings toward the man with the sunglasses, waiting for him to say something in regards to finding this man’s dog. Or stealing the dog.
He remains silent. Eerily silent. I hate that I can’t see his eyes because it’s impossible to know what he’s thinking.Hello! Say something!
Tension as thick as soup begins to fill the space between them.
For some reason, I decide the quiet is almost worse than the screaming. “Um, maybe we can talk about—”
Greg interrupts me again before I can finish. “Give her to me.” He steps forward, arm extended toward the lead dangling casually from the man’s hands. Time slows as his fingers reach for the piece of leather, his body bent slightly, chest puffing with annoyance. The man who found his dog remains completely unmoving.
Seemingly out of nowhere, the handsome stranger lifts his leg and kicks Greg straight in the chest.
