Page 13 of Rabid
Max followed at her side; his low grumbles matched how she felt. Joan threw open the greenhouse door and ran in, closing it behind them. She heard male voices in the distance and knew they would circle the house within a few minutes. The planter box had a latch attached at the back corner. She slid it free and swung the entire box until she saw the darkened entrance.
“Come on, down you go,” she ordered Max. The stairs wouldn’t fit them both, and she had to swing the planter back into place and lock the hatch. It took a few seconds before she was beside Max again.
“We made it,” she whispered while running her fingers through his fur before she buried her entire face in the ruff of his neck.
He growled.
“Shush,” she said in a low voice and pulled him closer. He made a small whining noise then went quiet.
Shotgun blasts filled the night, and even in her shelter, it was loud. Jeb and his sons yelled threats and curses as they blasted the house. Max’s chest rumbled slightly, but no sound came out.
“You fuckin’ bitch. We’re gonna string you up,” Jeb yelled.
Life had thrown Joan too many setbacks, and she was done with Jeb Hogg and all he represented. Carrie and Susan deserved better. When Willow came home, she deserved more than to have those vile men living next to them.
Fury filled Joan’s brain, and a wildfire ignited in her chest, spreading through her body. Her muscles tightened, and her pulse pounded like a drum in her ears. Joan’s thoughts became laser-focused on Jeb Hogg and her endless dislike, drowning out everything else. Her mind was hijacked by a single, overwhelming emotion, blazing hot, relentless, and impossible to ignore.
Rage.
Her vision narrowed, her breath came in shallow, rapid bursts as the fury amplified. A storm of vengeance took root, swirling and demanding action; anything to release the boiling pressure inside.
Her hold on Max grew tighter as rational thought faded into the background, replaced by theoverwhelming need to stop Jeb Hogg and his sons. An almost primal urge to kill consumed her. It wasn’t just the Hoggs. What the legal system had done to Willow, an innocent child, added to her fury. The fury grew hotter with every curse coming from Jeb and his boys. They’d brought dogs too, and their growling made it crystal clear.
Killing Jeb Hogg was the only answer.
Chapter Eleven
Infernal Hatred
Cries of “old lady” echoed through the night, their voices sharp and mocking.
Their next words sent a chill through her bones.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are.” The boys were taunting her.
She winced as they entered the greenhouse, knocking over pots and shattering glass. Their dogs growled and barked; the sounds amplified in the buried shelter. Joan’s lips pressed into a grim line. Stupid Hoggs. They didn’t realize their dogs weren’t barking for fun, they were alerting to something.
Joan’s grip tightened on her shotgun. The handgun on her hip was loaded too. If they found the shelter’s entrance, she wouldn’t hesitate in defending herself and Max.
“She ain’t here,” one of the Hoggs said.
“She’s somewhere, and we’ll find her. That bitch knows what happened to Carrie. She and that dog of hers need to die.”
The name hit Joan like a hammer:Carrie.
Her breath caught. What had they done to that poor, innocent child? Anger simmered beneath her skin, swelling with every cruel word they said.
“She took that dog of hers into the night. We’ll get her, and no one will find the body,” another voice said, his tone casual, as though discussing nothing more than a chore. “Are we gonna burn the house?”
“Da says that’ll bring the cops. We gotta kill her first, then dump her body in the house before we light it up.”
“What if someone hears the gunfire?”
“The deputies are at the high school football game. Most of the people out here are too. The rest’ll mind their own damn business.”
Joan’s heart sank. They were right. Deputy Berger and her neighbors wouldn’t be home for hours. Small town football was the highlight of the year. Joan had never attended, but Deputy Berger invited her once. Her answer hadn’t been pleasant.
“What if Da’s wrong, you dumb shit?”
