Page 64 of Junkyard Dog

He nodded absently.

He already knew what Bo had said to her.

He’d beaten it out of his wasted brother the night before, and had the bruises on his chest to prove it.

“Oh, wow,” Charlotte breathed out, shaking her arms out before she resumed her stance. “I suppose the park’s fair game for you, since you might need to, uh, work there. But I’ll steer clear of the tavern.” She frowned. “I guess poor Thomas’ll be shorthanded soon.”

He shifted his weight. “I’ve been stashing resumes for him under the till.” He took a step into the kitchen, freezing when she shook her head. “I’m not sorry we met.”

“Me either.”

He crossed the floor, pausing for a moment in front of her before he wrapped his arms around her and dropped his head into the crook of her neck, desperate to commit the scent of her shampoo to memory. “I’m really sorry for this though.”

She took a shuddering breath that hit him harder than Bo ever had, her calm demeanor cracking. “Me too. See you around.”

She kept her arms around herself, her head turning from him when he released her and backed into the hall without another word, the heavy click of a lock and the sound of Charlotte breaking down echoing in his head as he drove to work and began his shift.

*

Charlotte straightened herhat and tilted her rearview mirror, assessing her red-rimmed eyes with resignation.

No amount of eyeliner or powder could hide how she’d spent the past three hours.

She rifled through her glovebox for her sunglasses, grateful the autumn sun was still strong enough to warrant them for a few more hours.

She didn’t have it in her to answer any questions.

Walking into the station, she greeted everyone with a quick wave before hunching over the evening schedule and mapping her route.

“We’re back to solo runs,” Max called over to her, giving the small vending machine a shake until an aged chocolate bar fell out. “I’ll take the Pass, you take the Keys, we’ll meet up at the Garden on Pinto.”

“Sounds good,” she replied, her voice tighter and thinner than normal. “I’m heading out.”

His mouth full, Max muttered something unintelligible as she grabbed a set of truck keys and left, fighting the urge to break into a run and get the hell away from anyone and everyone as quick as possible.

The park was quiet, most tourists having been scared off by the rash of deaths in the region. She tossed her sunglasses onto the empty passenger seat and dropped the truck to a crawl, scanning the terrain halfheartedly for any signs of dead bodies, killers, or dogs.

Anything to take her mind off Alex.

She turned off the air conditioner as the sun disappeared, the chill that had settled in her body when he walked out still sitting heavy in her bones.

Little relationship experiment.

She blinked rapidly, taking deep breaths as she pulled over and threw the truck into park.

Neither of us will be shocked when this goes to hell.

She jumped out of the vehicle and ran her hands over her face.

She missed him already.

She missed him waiting for her to call, to tell him she had made it home safe.

She missed knowing her silent phone would ping incessantly once she hit the highway, menial messages and funny anecdotes filling her alerts.

She hopped onto the hood of the truck and lay back on the windshield, her fingers ghosting her gun. The coyotes began to chatter, their voices crossing between the hills and mountains of the park and bouncing off the rock. When a husky, gravelly crooning broke in, she sat up and called into the darkness. “Hey, Not-Butch. Where are you, boy?”

The useless sliver of moonlight hid the enormous beast until he was almost in striking distance of her, his stalking gait more predatory than Butch’s.

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