Page 21 of Stunner (Whiskey Dolls 3)

“No, no, no, no, no,” I chanted, panic clawing at my throat. Then, as though in slow motion, the truck barreled through the light. I let out a sharp scream and squeezed my eyes closed as the dog’s pained yelp wrenched through the air.

The asshole behind the wheel of the truck didn’t bother slowing down or stopping after hitting the poor dog. I quickly checked my mirrors, my heart hammering in my chest as I threw my door open and bolted into the street. It was still breathing and struggling to push itself up onto its feet as I got closer.

“Oh God,” I croaked, my eyes wet with tears as I crouched beside it. “God, you poor thing.”

It let out the most pathetic whimper as I reached out to touch it, pressing its head into my touch as I ran my hand across the side of its face. “You’re okay,” I panted, but I wasn’t so sure about that. I wasn’t a professional, that was for damn sure, but aside from being dirty and its earlier injuries, the dog looked to be inbadshape.

It whimpered and whined again, dragging its front paws against the pavement like it was trying to pull itself closer to me.

“It’s okay. I’m going to get you help. Just hold on, all right? Will you do that? Just hold on and I’ll get you the biggest, juiciest steak for dinner. But you can’t die. That’s the deal, okay? No dying. You die on me and I’m going to be seriously pissed.”

I looked around at the otherwise empty intersection, desperately searching my brain to figure out what the hell I was going to do. Then it hit me.

“All right, sweetie, this is going to hurt, but I have to pick you up. Just hang in there. I’m taking you to a friend and he’ll fix you right up.”

I hoped.

Owen

I was dead on my feet. It had been a long day that started with an emergency appointment. Ten minutes before I was set to unlock the doors Mr. Cromwell showed up, beating on the glass because his bloodhound, Ferguson, had gone toe-to-toe with a snake and lost. It hadn’t slowed down from there.

There was a cat in distress during delivery of her litter of kittens, a sick bearded dragon, a dog that swallowed an engagement ring, not to mention all the appointments I already had on schedule: spaying, neutering, and de-clawing. I was ready to climb the stairs to my apartment with Gus, order a pizza, crack open an ice-cold beer, and drink it while I stood under a steaming hot shower until my dinner arrived.

I looked down at Gus, who’d been snoozing on the dog bed I had set up in my office for him. He wasn’t allowed in the exam or surgery rooms, but he liked to chill in my office and wander the reception area, greeting all the patients and their owners while I was working.

“What do you say, bud? Ready to call it a night?”

He lifted his head, his mouth open and tongue lolling out the side of his mouth, his version of a smile. He slowly rose to his feet on a long, laborious groan, stretching his front end to the ground, his ass up in the air, tail wagging in a way you’d think he’d spent the whole day working his ass off.

I shut down my computer and did the same thing he did, standing from my chair and stretching my arms over my head.I was mid-groan—like owner, like dog—when someone started beating on the door out front.

Gus let out a sharp bark, going from lazy to alert in a single blink, and followed on my heels as I booked it from the office to the front. My heart lodged itself in my throat when I spotted a pale Asher with what looked like blood on her shoulder and chest.

“Jesus,” I barked as I twisted the lock and shoved the door open.

“Thank God you’re still here,” she panted. “You have to help me.”

“What the fuck happened?” I barked, my hands framing her face before sliding down, searching for any injuries, the source of the blood. “Where are you hurt? Who did this to you?”

“You have to help him. Or her. I don’t know if it’s a girl or a boy, but it’s in bad shape.” Tears were streaming down her face as she thrust a bundle of something wrapped in a sweatshirt toward me. “It was hit by a truck, a big one. Please don’t let it die.”

“Let it—” Before I could finish my question, I heard a familiar whimper. So did Gus by the way he started dancing around our legs, sniffing at the bundle. “What the hell is that?”

The thing wrapped up in the sweatshirt moved on another cry, causing the material to shift and fall away, revealing what looked to be a dog in terrible shape. I let out a curse at the sight of it, immediately going into work mode.

I grabbed the dog carefully and started for the exam room. “Asher, follow me. Gus, to the office. Go lie down.”

Both did as I said, Gus going back in the direction we’d just come from and Asher following so close behind me she nearly scuffed my heels. “Flip the light on, will you?” I asked as I moved to the cold metal exam room table. The bright florescent bulbsflickered twice before bathing the room in light as I gingerly placed the dog on the table.

It let out another sound of pain as I slowly unwrapped it from the sweatshirt but couldn’t move other than to twist its neck in order to track Asher’s movements like it was worried she’d disappear.

Sure enough, once I got the dog uncovered I was able to see it was a him. And he was in even worse shape than I thought. “Ash, I need you to stand over here while I exam him. He’s anxious and in pain and searching for you. Try to keep him calm, okay? And keep pressure on that wound on his leg. I need to get that bleeding under control first thing.”

She didn’t hesitate or squirm at the sight of the blood, just pressed down in an effort to staunch the flow. She bent down so her face was close to the dog’s as she gently cooed at him while I assessed the rest of the damage. The poor thing was in agony. His pupils were dilated with pain, his breathing labored and wet, telling me a broken rib had more than likely punctured a lung. It was obvious there were older injuries, not to mention malnutrition, but my main concern at that moment was the damage the truck had done.

The laceration down his hind leg was nasty, revealing muscle and tendon, and was bleeding too fast. After a few minutes her eyes came to mine, tears swimming along the brim. “Is it bad? Can you fix him?”

I let out a breath, my stomach twisting at the sadness and worry so stark on the surface of those beautiful eyes. “He’s in really bad shape,” I said, giving it to her straight. “Another couple minutes, and he might have been too far gone. You did really good getting him to me so quickly, sweetheart. I’m going to do everything I can to save him, but I’ll need your help. My staff’s gone for the day, and he needs X-rays and surgery.”

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