Page 27 of Junkyard Dog

The moment he heard playboy Max had deemed Charlotte’s impromptu truck mate a horndog, the hunt for the Pirithous scent moved from the north quadrant to Charlotte’s route.

She can handle it herself.

The mantra had been playing softly in the back of his head since he’d left the restaurant. And, logically, he knew she would probably be fine.

Unfortunately, logic was in short supply in his brain when it came to her.

He knew it and he didn’t care.

He stripped down and shoved his clothes into the crevices of a large rock pile, doubling back to the SUV to grab the collar in his glovebox before he dropped down to all fours and his body morphed, the sounds and scents of the landscape temporarily assaulting him as his snout elongated and his ears perked up. Charlotte had a good two hours on him by now, her typical route placing her closer to the Keys. He took off across the desert, his ears and eyes alert to any sign of humans in the darkness. When he passed the Keys with no sign of her, he continued to press eastward, his nose scouring the air for her scent until he caught it.

Sheep’s Pass.

Padding across the smooth stones carefully, he made his way over the hills until he saw her truck parked among the small collection of campers unbothered by the prospect of a murderer on the loose. He lowered his head while he approached the vehicle, a low growl emitting from deep in his throat as a man spoke.

“We don’t have to call it a date,” the guy said, his elbow resting on the open sill of the truck window. “Just dinner and drinks between colleagues.”

Before Alex could nip at the protruding arm, Charlotte replied, her voice cold. “Call it whatever you want. I’m busy.”

“How about another night then?” the agent pressed. “You seem tense. You could probably use a night of loosening up.”

He bared his teeth and closed in on the truck, crouching to slink along the side until he was flush with the grille.

“I’m busy every night you aren’t,” she bit back. “And I’m tense because I’m stuck in here with a handsy jerk with an inflated sense of self-worth and a juvenile vocabulary.”

Handsy?

Raising up on his hind legs, he let out a snarl and placed his paws on the hood of the truck. The guy jumped, a string of curses flying from his mouth as Charlotte gasped in surprise before she recognized him.

“Awwww, come here, Butch!” she called, rolling down her window and extending her hand out. With his eyes on the douchebag, Alex nuzzled her hand. Noticing his attention was focused on her companion, Charlotte cupped his snout in her hands. “Butch, meet Kevin. Kevin, Butch.”

Kevin relaxed slightly into his seat. “Big-ass dog,” he muttered, extending his hand toward Alex and conveniently brushing it against Charlotte’s shoulder. Alex snapped at him, grazing the fingers with his teeth and growling. “Not well trained either, huh?”

“He’s very well trained. I don’t think he likes you,” she murmured, her dark eyes amused. “You are trained, aren’t you, boy? Can you sit?”

Keeping his attention on Kevin, Alex sat.

“Such a good boy,” Charlotte purred. “Shake?”

Lifting his paw to demonstrate just how trained he was, he shoved aside the slight to his ego for the greater good. Namely, to avoid the tranquilizer darts he was pretty certain were stored somewhere in the truck.

“Animals have a very keen sense of who they do and don’t like.” Without waiting for Kevin to respond, she nudged her door open and got out of the truck. “Here, boy. Let’s get you in the back and I’ll see what I have in the cooler for you. You and I need to have a little talk about where you put your leash.”

Chapter Ten

Alex grinned asMax and Charlotte pushed their way through the lunch crowds of the tavern, holding their arms up in victory. “All hail the afternoon shift!” Max announced, earning a round of applause from his fellow rangers. “It was a long haul, but we made it. We survived.” He draped himself backward over the bar counter dramatically, pulling Charlotte along with him. “Barkeep, a celebration tequila if you will.”

Leaning over Charlotte, Alex took the opportunity to kiss her forehead. “So you survived your night with the douchebag cop?”

She closed her eyes and smiled. “I did. Help me up?”

He gently lifted her shoulders from the counter, ignoring the whoops and whispers that rose from the table of rangers as she pulled up a stool and poked Max in the ribs. Alex poured a round of tequila shots for the group, punching them into the till as a promotional tab before setting the tray beside Max. “On the house,” he said, laughing when Max leapt up and began running the shot glasses over to his colleagues.

“You shouldn’t encourage him,” she chastised, her eyes lighting up when he placed a cup of coffee in front her. “No one needs tequila before noon.”

“I’d have a celebratory shot myself if I wasn’t working.” He smiled. “So how bad was it last night?”

He knew damn well how bad it had been. He’d spent most of the night riding around in the back of her work truck listening to Kevin spew story after story about how successful he was, how athletic he was, how important he was, and how much all his ex-girlfriends still desired him.

---