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“I’ll see you soon, Allie.” Said with low promise before he drove off.
I watched him get back onto Highway 7—my business was on a less-frequented section of the popular road—and wondered if I’d imagined him flirting. He was probably just the kind of guy who talked like that to everyone. Part of his cop training to put people at ease so they spilled their guts. Since I had nothing to admit, I was more likely to drop my pants.
Yup. Despite being bruised and battered, my midlife libido remained fully operational.
And it wanted the detective.
CHAPTER5
I limped into the house,using the hide-a-key I kept stashed in the porch light. I whistled. “Blade? Where are you, baby?”
Probably hiding because someone dared to enter. But upon hearing my voice, high-pitched crying emerged from deeper in the house before resolving into a giant fluffball barreling at me.
Blade was what you’d get if you crossed a wolf with a Border Collie. In other words, large and really fucking hairy. Scared of everything, but he loved me.
He cried and danced around me, his massive tail swinging. Given it had knocked over light furniture before, I eschewed a front hall side table for a shelf higher than his tail of wagging destruction for my key bowl.
I hugged his wiggling body, glad once more that we’d found each other. He’d been scheduled for euthanasia when I spotted him in the shelter. Apparently, no one wanted a coward of his size. It was love at first sight. Those big eyes of his, the way he leaned on me with such trust.
The Jerk hadn’t been impressed. He’d wanted a dog of breeding. Something with a fancy name and a pedigree. Me? I wanted sloppy kisses and pee on my feet. Blade had excitement issues.
It was why I kept Lysol wipes on the shelf alongside the bowl for my keys. I wiped the tops of my boots and floor, and with my happy furball by my side, headed for the kitchen where I disposed of them in the garbage can under the sink.
“Who’s a hungry puppy?” Yes, there was irony in calling the hundred-and-forty-pound furball a puppy. Yet, even after three years together, Blade still possessed the sweet innocence that had drawn me to him.
The suggestion of food got more dancing and crying. Because while Blade had a dispenser for dry kibble, he loved treats. Hot Rods, to be exact. I gave him an entire stick, and he raced to his bed to lick it before scarfing it down.
While he made slobbery love to his favorite treat, I showered. I needed the smell of hospital and blood, and the memory of my attackers, gone from my skin. I stood under the steaming hot water so long that I boiled a shade only slightly lighter than cooked lobster. All the water in the world couldn’t fix the bruises turning all kinds of hideous shades, but it did help my mental state.
Once I’d toweled off, I dressed in black track pants and my favorite red hoodie before padding out to my living room and staring blankly at my couch and television.
Sit and watch the boob tube or…my gaze strayed to the window. Before I could think twice, I’d slipped on my Crocs. I whistled. “Blade, you coming?”
Given it was daylight outside, my dog trotted alongside me as we crossed over to the junkyard using the shortcut that went from my side door to a gate in the fence. As I pulled on the latch, it occurred to me that I should probably get a lock for it. Not that it would make a difference. My front yard was unfenced, not to mention, I’d had the main gates barred the night of my attack. Meaning, those fuckers had probably climbed or already knew of my secret entrance.
I began to see the merit in barbed wire. Maybe a trench with spikes. A drone armed with rubber bullets. I glanced down at Blade. “I don’t suppose I could put a spiked collar on you and convince you to look menacing?”
His tongue lolled as he grinned at me.
I sighed. Terrifying, he was not.
The first thing I did upon entering was head to the main gates and close them. As I eyed the busted lock—because, of course, the cops had to smash their way in—I pursed my lips. At the very least, I should invest in some new motion-sensor lights and cameras. Then, if someone dared to invade my place again, I’d have warning. Which made me wonder…should I get a gun? I’d never fired one, but maybe I should look into getting my license and lessons.
The attack had shaken me. That feeling of helplessness. The terror. The fact that I’d almost died, and they’d wanted to—
But didn’t, I reminded myself firmly.
Despite it being the middle of the afternoon, I glanced around suspiciously as if the assholes might be lurking. I practically bolted for my workshop and grabbed a heavy metal wrench, which had Blade eyeing me with his head tilted.
“Just in case, baby.” I felt better with its weight in my hand.
The car I’d been working on remained as I’d left it, but I didn’t feel any excitement looking at it. I feared I’d forever associate it with my attack.
Speaking of attack… I wandered back outside, suspicious, cautious, ready to swing my mighty wrench. Fuck Thor and his hammer, this modern girl had her own weapon and a slobbery dog.
Blade pranced in the afternoon sunlight, chasing a passing bumblebee. Goofy idiot.
My smile at his antics faded as I headed for the office and noticed the police tape over the door. They’d dusted the place, which was more than I’d expected, given how little the tweakers had stolen. It didn’t look any messier than usual, so I left it and wandered back outside, stopping short as I saw the dark spots on the ground. A chill hit me in an all-body tremble.
