Page 273 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

I take in a deep breath, knowing I can’t escape forever but a few more minutes to bask in the feeling of euphoria that has commanded my body and mind can’t be bad, right?

Let’s call it therapeutic.

When I finally drag myself up from the rock, I tighten my ponytail and head toward the park exit and back to the craziness of the city and my life. This little slice of bliss will be here when I get back. And I will go back, just to relive those stolen moments and hope that I may get a chance to claim a few more like them.

He came to find me.

A shiver rushes down my spine.

He likes me.

And I like him, too.

I rub my hands down the sides of my arm and cross back over Seaman Avenue, the gravity of Frankie’s predicament washing over me as I put distance between myself and the delicious little tryst I just shared with my sexy stalker, Joe.

A deep sigh expels from my mouth as I trudge back to my apartment. I know this isn’t hell. I mean, it’s definitely worse than purgatory. But I have Frankie, and we have food and a roof, albeit questionable since the plaster chips incessantly over our heads.

We have hope.

I may get jaded, but I haven’t completely lost that hope.

And dammit, I have a degree from one of the best universities in the country!

I can fix this!

Running always empowers me. Makes me feel like an in-control badass, and even if it’s total bullshit, it makes me smile. I furrow my brow as I pass a quiet side street. A tiny whimper makes me do a double-take, and I duck down the street in search of the source of that sound.

Oh my gosh, it sounds like…

I walk gingerly down the sidewalk, searching for any movement. I strain my ears to try and hear the sound again. A car zooms past and I jump, startled by the noise and annoyed that the coughing muffler might have scared the animal away.

When it’s quiet again, I keep walking, twisting my head left and right when I gasp, clapping a hand over my mouth. A furry paw peeks out from one of the run-down buildings. It disappears as quickly as it steps out, and I jog over, falling to my knees when I see the tiny puppy cowered against the cement wall. It looks up at me with big, sad brown eyes and lets out another cry. This time, it doesn’t look like it has the energy to run away, which makes sense since it must have run all the way here from the park.

My brow furrows.

How insane is this?

The puppy, the Stalker otherwise known as Joe.

What are the freaking odds that I’d see them both…twice…in the most unlikely of places?

I reach out tentatively, smoothing down its matted fur. A little peek at its back confirms it’s a girl. She’s almost all black, except for a small white patch around her neck.

She doesn’t look like a typical stray, especially around here. I wonder if her owner brought her to the park for a visit and she got away somehow. I bite down on my lower lip. I think it’s a Boston Terrier. I cup her chin in my hand and tilt her face upward to see if she’s wearing a collar. Not that I needed to move her head. She’s so little, it would be hanging down like a necklace.

My gut twists.

Of course.

Her collar probably slipped off. “It’s okay, baby,” I whisper. “You’re okay.”

But she’s not.

So I decide that second to add her to my list of blessings.

I said I loved the silent camaraderie, but I’ll take it in barking form, too.

But the dog doesn’t bark. She just ventures toward me, one slow step at a time. I hold out my hand so she can sniff me, and it isn’t long before she’s licking my entire arm. She’s not completely comfortable yet. I guess she’s still sizing me up.

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