Page 109 of Junkyard Dog

“Of course not,” Ryan said. “He’d just take it to the stupid level and it wouldn’t be funny anymore. Did you tell her how demeaning that is?”

“Not in so many words,” he muttered. “But, yeah, I told her. I’ll do anything for that woman. But never that again.”

Ryan chuckled. “When does she move in?”

“Thursday.”

“You’re in for a big change,” Ryan warned. “Women don’t live like we do. You’ve seen Seph’s rooms.”

He thought back to the opulent decor and rows of armoires packed to the brim with clothes and shoes and jewelry he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her wear. “It’ll be fine.”

Ryan’s laugh barked over the phone. “I’m sure it will be. Good luck, brother. I’ll call if I find out anything new.”

Setting his phone down, he pulled back onto the road and followed the paved trail to a secluded path where he could pull over and transform. He got out of the SUV and scanned the area, sliding a large collar around his neck and checking the time.

More than enough time to hunt first.

*

Charlotte handed thecooler over to Max, smirking when he peeked inside. “That’s cheating.”

“I said I’d bring lunch,” she stated. “I never said I’d make it.”

Max lifted the takeout containers one by one and examined them, passing the grilled cheese over to Charlotte and hunching over the rest. “You sure Alex didn’t spit in this?”

Thinking over the amount of ribbing Alex had endured from Max over the past month, she shrugged. “Possible. Does it matter?”

“It should,” he replied, taking a bite of the BLT, “but it doesn’t.”

She wrinkled her nose and dove into her own meal. “Seems so quiet around here now, doesn’t it?”

“Good riddance,” he snorted, alternating between the containers. “FBI breathing down my neck for the past five months? No thanks. I’ll take my chances with the serial killer. Besides, he’s probably moved on.”

She hummed in agreement. “Speaking of moving, you’re helping me Thursday after work.”

“Says you. I’m going drinking.”

Knocking the fry from his hand, she narrowed her eyes and tilted her hat back. “It’ll take three loads with your truck, a billion with my car.”

He muttered under his breath, bending down to scoop the fry off the floor and inspecting it before popping it in his mouth. “Why isn’t Alex doing it? He’s the one getting laid on a regular basis. Let him haul your crap down those stairs.”

“He’s working,” she replied, ignoring the rest of Max’s complaint. “Two trips to the storage unit, one to the trailer. That’ll take an hour.”

“You’re buying me food after,” he conceded. “And three drinks.”

Satisfied with their arrangement, she eased back onto the road, setting the rest of her sandwich aside for later. “Keys or Skull Rock?”

“Better hit the Rock,” he mumbled through a full mouth. “It’s been stupid busy there this week.”

They drove through the park slowly, pulling over periodically to pick up abandoned coffee cups and grocery bags. Skull Rock was crawling with tourists, their phones angled toward the unique structure from all sides as the braver people shimmied along the stone. Max waved her off when she got out of the truck, leaving him to digest in the air-conditioned vehicle.

She wandered the perimeter of the attraction, nodding at friendly sightseers and scooping discarded cigarette butts from the sand until a familiar beast jogged over to her, startling the young man crouched at her side to capture the perfect photo of the rock with his phone.

“He’s friendly,” she called to the poor kid as he backed away, eyes wide. She glanced down at Alex and looped the leash onto her wrist. “You have to stop doing that.”

He nuzzled her hand, panting.

She smirked. “You aren’t used to running that far anymore, are you? Stop eating out of the fry basket.” She pulled her phone from her pocket and checked the time. “You have two hours before work. I hope you parked close.”

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