Page 65 of Junkyard Dog

She slid off the truck and held her hand out, scratching under the dog’s chin as he lay his muzzle in her palm. “Where’s Butch? Hmm?” she cooed, smiling when the dog chuffed and nudged her fingers. “One of these days, I’m going to toss you two in the truck and take you home. I’ll be picking up a pretty collar for you, too. Maybe blue?”

The dog retreated a few steps, snorting and pawing the sand.

“I’m heading back to the station,” she said, standing straight and brushing her hands on her pants. “You coming?”

He padded up to her, using his head to herd her toward the truck and sitting back on his haunches when she relented and climbed in.

“Fine. I’ll bring some steaks out tomorrow.” She closed the door and rolled down her window. “Tell Butch I say hi.”

*

Alex gave thepretty brunette a smile and made a show of pocketing her number until she walked out, trashing it when the bar door closed.

“They can smell blood in the water,” Bo stated, folding the number the brunette’s friend had slipped him and tucking it into his phone case. He nodded toward a trio of women on the dance floor, their slinky moves in the deserted lounge a definite message to the brothers. “Two for you, one for me?”

Popping the cap off a beer, Alex pushed it across the counter to Bo. “Did you manage to book a hotel?”

Bo rolled his eyes and nodded, taking a swig. “Put it on Ryan’s credit card.”

He printed off the last two bills and set them beside the till, his fingers brushing over the resumes piling up. “What about the Pirithous?”

“Swung by there, too,” Bo replied, watching the dancing women with a mixture of interest and boredom. “No movement.” He leaned forward on the bar. “We could be in the final countdown, Lex.”

His shoulders tensed. “Don’t call me that.” He snatched the tabs up and hit the floor, dropping off one at a table of tourists before he strode across the dance floor and held the other out to the women. “Cashing out, ladies.”

A heavily made-up blonde took the bill, motioning for him to follow her to the pile of purses sitting on a table in front of the till. “Put it through on this,” she purred, passing him a Visa. She cocked her head toward Bo and smiled. “You two busy later?”

“Yup.”

He ignored Bo’s dead stare as he ran the card and passed the woman a pen. Her coy expression was gone, her eyes hard as she added a one dollar tip and signed off on the bill.

Bo held his tongue until the place emptied and Alex began counting out the till. “Get over one by getting under another,” he stated, pushing himself off the bar. “Might as well take what you can get before we cross over.”

He texted Thomas the total and tossed the cash into the bar’s safe, spinning the dial. “I’m good.”

He wasn’t good.

He was numb.

On autopilot since he walked out of Charlotte’s apartment hours earlier.

He grabbed his wallet and phone, not bothering to check the messages he knew weren’t there. “Let’s go.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Max broke offa piece of stale chocolate from his bar and passed it Charlotte. “I don’t care about what a nonissue you’re calling it, you should’ve told me.” He thumped his work boots onto her coffee table and snatched the remote from her. “You know, before I opened my stupid mouth.”

She popped the chocolate in her mouth and tightened her blanket around her shoulders, every muscle aching from the double shifts she had pulled for the past two days. All she wanted to do was stare blankly at the TV and crash from exhaustion.

Until Max walked into her apartment, hollering about Alex.

“The guy outweighs me by, like, forty pounds,” he grumbled, settling on an action film from the mid-80s. “And there I was, smacking him on the back and joking about you taking extra shifts so you could hook up with Jonas in the break room.” He wrestled a bag of chips open, handing her the rest of the chocolate. “My life passed in front of my eyes. Thomas and his brother had to talk him down long enough for me to get out of there.”

She continued to stare at the television.

“He looks like shit,” Max offered after a moment. “I got a real good look at his face when he slammed me onto the bar.” When she remained silent, he tapped her foot with his. “You don’t look much better.”

Inching her hand into the bag of chips, she shrugged. “Five shifts in three days’ll do that.”

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