Hounded (Going to the Dogs)

by Dawson, Zoe

  Hounded

  Book #3

  Going to the Dog Series

  By Zoe Dawson

  Published by Blue Moon Creative, LLC

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright by Karen Alarie. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Porsche, M&Ms, Barbie, Ken, Barbie’s Dream House, Care Bears

  ISBN: 978-0-9884188-2-0

  Find Zoe Dawson on the web!

  Website: www.zoedawson.com/

  Twitter: www.twitter.com/ZoeDawsonAuthor

  Facebook: www.facebook.com/zoe.dawsonauthor1

  Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/pages/ZoeDawson/437311359676596?ref=hl

  Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/zoedawson

  Blog: http://zoedawsonauthor.blogspot.com/

  Cover Design by Robin Ludwig Design, Inc.

  http://www.rldprint.com/

  Acknowledgments

  I'd like to thank Gail Barrett and Dare Cook, and Sue Stewart for all their many, many sessions of reading this book over and over again. Thank you, also, to Faith Freewoman for her excellent advice and editing skills. A big thank you also to Robin Ludwig for her fabulous cover design.

  Dedication

  To Briana who puts up with a lot, but still loves me.

  Chapter One

  Pain exploded through Poe Madigan’s right cheek and eye. She slammed into the concrete wall, crying out when her shoulder hit with more vibrating agony, everything fragmenting into multi-colored pieces with layers of disconnection and disorientation. Shock coursed through her in a surreal I-feel-like-I’m-watching-from-a-distance way as she crumpled face down.

  What the hell…?

  A man. Above her. Masked? Had he punched her in the face? Where had he come from?

  Edgar, the larger of her two Jack Russells, went crazy. He leapt at the man’s face and latched onto the mask concealing her attacker’s identity, the weight of the small dog dragging at the man’s torso. Allan’s ferocious barking peppered with mixed growls indicated he’d joined the fray. The signal to Poe’s brain to get up and fight short-circuited. Dazed and immobile from the blow, she could only watch helplessly.

  A muzzy thought drifted along the edges of her awareness. Could this have something to do with that awful note someone had shoved under her door?

  The man swung his arm and dislodged Edgar. Her dog cried out with a sharp yelp, and she tried again to get up. Edgar was hurt. She needed to help him. The man put his foot into the middle of her back and trapped her against the dirty pavement. He yanked at her purse, which was fortunately partially jammed underneath her. No way! He couldn’t have her too-cool zombie bag. Much too trendy for this lowlife scum. As he reached for the straps and tried to jerk her off the purse, Allan snapped at his hand, slashing it with his teeth.

  Her attacker backed off, cursing and swatting at Allan, but the dog was too quick. Allan went for the man’s pant legs, shredding the fabric with his sharp little teeth while Edgar launched himself at him again. Someone shouted, but Poe couldn’t make out the words over the ringing in her ears. The sounds of her dogs attacking receded. Then someone touched her, making her flinch—no, wait, this was a helping touch, trying to find out if she was okay. She finally let go and drifted toward sooty blackness.

  She jerked awake. One of the EMTs was talking to her in low, soothing tones as they loaded her into an ambulance, the glare of the blue revolving light making her head hurt. She thought she’d answered his questions, and he seemed satisfied. Suddenly her throat closed up and lucidity rushed at her, tightening her chest. Where were her boys?

  “Wait,” she cried out, trying to rise, but the doors closed with finality.

  #

  She didn’t like being in the hospital. She was a doctor. A vet. The smell of antiseptic and the murmur of voices were familiar, but the squeaking of the gurney wheels and the smell of hospital food were jarring.

  Where was her Terrible Twosome?

  Drawing a deep, shaky breath, Poe closed her eyes and leaned back, her insides trembling. By now the headache was nothing but a dull throb, the stinging in her cheek receding, the ice on her eye starting to melt. They said she had a mild concussion and her pupils looked a bit wonky. They insisted she stay overnight for observation. Did they think just because they told her she couldn’t leave she wouldn’t? Her clothes were right there in the closet. Her gut twisted with worry. Where were her Jack Russells? Who had them? She didn’t want them in a shelter. It would bring back all those memories she hoped she had eradicated when she adopted them.

  Of course, if it was Happy Tails, the dog shelter where she did pro bono work that would have been fine. They would take good care of Edgar and Allan.

  That’s what she got for thinking about her zombie show instead of being vigilant. Wham, blindsided by a mugger. Now, Edgar and Allan had been left behind when the ambulance had hauled her off to the hospital over her adamant protests. Just let them try to stop her from finding her fuzzy family members!

  She pushed at the covers, slid forward, and then had to wait until the dizziness passed. She perched on the edge of her hospital bed, ready to go to that closet and get dressed. They had been her protectors, flying at her assailant before he knew what hit him. Edgar and Allan might be mischievous little rascals, but they meant business when she was in danger. She was proud of her boys. But she wanted to check them over herself to make sure they were all right. She had to find them.

  “Don’t you dare think about getting out of that bed,” Callie Lassiter, soon to be McKay, said as she rushed towards Poe. “Oh my God, your eye. That bastard! Are you all right?”

  Poe had met Callie and her other two best friends, Harper and Brooke, almost a year ago at a local dog park. Since then the four of them had made the dog park get-together a regular occurrence for them and their dogs.

  Callie hugged Poe so hard she could barely breathe. “When you called me, I was so worried.”

  “I’m fine,” Poe said, but her voice cracked and her eyes filled. She squeezed Callie’s forearm. “He just banged me up a bit. But we got in our licks, too. I need to find Edgar and Allan, Callie, to make sure they’re okay, but the nurses in this place are like prison wardens.”

  “I am going into that room with these dogs. Out of my way!”

  Poe perked up when she heard Harper Sinclair’s voice in the hall. She was using her indignant rich-bitch voice.

  “We don’t allow dogs in the hospital, miss. Let alone a patient’s room—unless, of course, they’re therapy dogs,” the unmistakable voice of the nurse in charge responded immediately with a firmness that made Poe’s stomach drop. She went to get out of bed again.

  “Have faith,” Callie said. “It’s Harper.”

  “Do you know who I am?” Harper asked.

  “No, and frankly—”

  “Harper Sinclair.”

  “Her family almost single-handedly built this hospital,” Poe grinned when she heard Brooke Palmer pipe up.

  “—oh…um Sinclair? One of the hospital patrons? I’m so sorry, but really, dogs in a patient’s room?”

  “They are therapy dogs. Poe’s a vet and she needs to see that they are okay. That will be the best therapy for her. If she doesn’t see these guys tonight, she’ll get out of that bed regardless of what you tell her.”

  “I see.” Her tone was still disappro
ving, even after learning Harper’s identity. “Fine. Take them in, but please don’t stay long.”

  Harper breezed in with Brooke right behind her. Poe met Edgar’s eyes, saw the love and affection brimming in their intelligent brown depths. He initiated a dialogue, a string of doggie barks, growls and yaps that brought grateful tears and said it all. It was there between them. He was worried and concerned about her. The same look filled Allan’s eyes, and her heart overflowed. The feelings were mutual. “There are my heroes. You guys should have seen them. Ferocious as Dobermans tonight.” Edgar emitted a short, joyous bark. She eased a deep, shaky breath past the nearly suffocating tightness in her throat, loving her precious boys so much she was near to bursting with it.

  Harper couldn’t hold onto Edgar once he saw Poe. He wriggled out of her arms, sprinted to the bed and hopped up. His whole body vibrated as he lavished her with wet, warm kisses. Allan whimpered and wiggled in Brooke’s arms, then immediately began licking Poe’s face as soon as they were reunited. Poe gathered them against her, burying her face in their warm fur. Thank God they are safe. She ran her hands over them and discovered a knot on Edgar’s right side. “Oh, he’s got a swelling. See if you can get an ice pack, please Brooke.” She ran her hands over Allan’s soft fur as Brooke dashed out of the room. But she found nothing alarming. Brooke came back with an ice pack.

  “I said it was for you. They don’t have to know it was for you to put on Edgar. I think she knew, though. She gave me a suspicious look.” Brooke hugged her, including the happy, squirming bodies of Poe’s two guys. “I’m so thankful you’re okay. Of course, Drew and I will take The Terrible Two overnight for you. Boxer loves them. He’s still in the playful puppy stage.”

  “Thank you, Brooke.”

  “I can’t count the times you took care of my sweet old Roscoe for me, not to mention all the times I’ve called you frantically in the middle of the night about Boxer.”

  “You never have to hesitate to call me, ever.”

  “I know.” Brooke squeezed her hand.

  Poe eyed Harper. She hadn’t said a word, instead standing back to let Callie and Brooke chatter on. She was definitely in Harper mode, with her assessing stare and her arms crossed over her pink, tan and blue color-blocked dress. That dress was just like her, compartmentalized, expensive and complicated.

  “I bet they’re not going to give you anything good to eat,” Brooke said. “Callie and I’ll run across the street and get you a sub.”

  “Does that sound good, Poe? With bacon on it.” Callie smiled.

  Poe gave them a quick smile, all the while watching Harper’s unreadable expression. Poe ran her damp palms along the cotton blanket that covered her thighs. Once the other two friends left the room, Harper stood there silently for a few more seconds. “Now you won’t have to wear heavy black eyeliner, and soon it will even match your blue-streaked hair.”

  Poe laughed, “Leave it to you to make me giggle in the middle of a crisis.”

  “What are you not telling us?”

  “What do you mean?” She avoided Harper’s ice-blue eyes and caressed Edgar’s head, shushing him when he felt the cold pack against his side and tried to sidle away. He quieted down.

  Harper’s eyes narrowed. “You know perfectly well what I mean, Poe. You’re vigilant, and I know muggings happen, but in the area you were in? Unlikely.”

  “It’s not impossible.”

  Harper approached the bed. She grabbed Poe’s chin, forced her head up and stared intensely into her eyes. “Tell me right now what you’re hiding.”

  “I’m not hiding anything. Geez, you sound like my mother. Just because I was the baby didn’t mean I couldn’t handle my own life.”

  Harper’s expression softened. She was reacting to the situation in her typical way. Harper rarely panicked. In fact, she rarely showed much emotion with people she didn’t trust. She had to be guarded and direct in her life because of her wealth. But here, now, fear glinted in her eyes along with her concern.

  “What is it?”

  Except dammit, Harper’s reaction choked her up all over again. “You’ll just blow it out of proportion.”

  Her tone conciliatory, she said, “Poe, you’ve been hospitalized. I think whatever it is warrants discussion.”

  “Oh, man, you are so pushy.”

  “Damn straight I am, sweetheart.” Her tone hardened. “Now give.”

  “Hand me my purse.”

  “Your…purse? Well, then he must not have been much of a mugger.”

  “No, he wasn’t.”

  Harper walked over to her purse and brought it back. Poe dug inside and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “I got this two days ago.”

  Harper opened it up and read it. Alarm flashed in her eyes. “You didn’t think this was important enough to go to the police?”

  “What could they really do about it? It’s not like they’re going to assign me a bodyguard.”

  “That’s a good—”

  “No. No bodyguard. I’m not going to have some Neanderthal trailing around after me when it’s completely unnecessary” Oh God, that would be awful. Talk about feeling worthless and unable to manage her life. It’d be her childhood all over again.

  “Not necessary? What are you talking about? Someone punched you in the face, gave you a mild concussion, and put you in the freaking hospital. You think that’s nothing?”

  “No, I think it was a failed mugging. Thank God it won’t affect my ability to compete.”

  “Compete? That Fur Ball is all you think about. It’s a silly competition. This is serious. The letter says you’ll be sorry. He’s going to get you and your little dogs, too! What the heck did those little troublemakers stir up?” Harper glared at The Terrible Two.

  “I don’t know.” Poe gazed into their eyes, her fingers delving into their fur, and her love for them welled up and spilled over. They were her guys. “They aren’t that bad.”

  Harper gave her The Death Stare.

  “Okay, they can be devils. But as far as I know they haven’t done anything to anyone lately. At least, nothing that would make someone send a threatening letter or punch me in the face.”

  Poe snatched the letter away from Harper, refolded it and tucked it back in her purse. Harper would say The Fur Ball wasn’t important. She didn’t know. She could never know what it was like to desperately want to help someone. Her mother needed her now and she wasn’t going to let her down. “If it will make you feel better, I’ll talk to the police about it. They’re going to take a statement tomorrow about the mugging, but I’m telling you they can’t really do anything about it.

  Harper’s voice softened. “Poe, come and stay with me at my penthouse for a bit, then. Until we can work this out.”

  “We don’t have anything to work out. This is my problem and I’ll take care of it. Besides, I can’t displace my dogs. They have a routine and they need to stay in their own environment. I would feel so awkward in your penthouse. It’s so…big.”

  Harper gave her a sly look. “You mean ostentatious.”

  Poe winced. “Yes, but I didn’t want to offend you.”

  Harper hugged her just as hard as Callie had. “You can’t offend me, you twit. Don’t you know that?”

  “Don’t get mushy on me. I won’t know how to react.”

  “All right. Well, at least use my limo.”

  “With your commando chauffer? That’s as bad as having a bodyguard.”

  “Poe!”

  “No!” she said, rejecting the possibility with her mind, with her body. She flung her hands out as if to push the idea away. “Stop coddling me. I can take care of myself, and have since…well, for a long time.”

  “I care about you. I don’t want anything to happen to you. Doesn’t that mean anything? We’ve been friends for a full year. Don’t you trust me?”

  “I get it. You want me safe. I’m safe. I live in a good building.”

  Harper sniffed.

  “Okay, it’s not
the most secure, but I have the dogs, and they’ll alert me to any danger. Everything will be fine. It was just a mugging. I’ll be more careful. I promise.”

  “I can see your mind is made up.”

  “Ms. Sinclair,” the nurse said, eyeing the dogs. “Visiting hours are almost over.”

  Harper nodded as Callie and Brooke bustled back into the room. “We got you a BLT. Thought you would love a bacon sandwich.”

  Poe smiled at them, but then Callie gave Harper a sidelong glance, meaning questions would fly between them after they left. The tension in the room thickened.

  When Harper picked up Edgar, he whined a little, but she held him firmly. Brooke scooped up Allan.

  “I’ll be back tomorrow to give you a ride home,” Harper said. “At least give me that.”

  “All right.”

  After they left, Poe lay back on her pillows and unwrapped the BLT. It smelled heavenly. Then a thought niggled at her and she had to set down the sandwich, unable to enjoy it. Harper had asked her a straightforward question, but she had sidestepped answering. What did that mean? Didn’t she trust her three friends?

  Poe had told Brooke last November she wasn’t a big fan of change. She didn’t usually fit in with many people. In fact, most people thought she was weird. But when she found Brooke, Harper and Callie, it clicked. She didn’t want to lose that. So, why couldn’t she say she trusted Harper? Didn’t she?

  Maybe it was the mild concussion that was making her think these off-the-wall thoughts. She picked up the sandwich, hummed with pleasure at the first bite, and polished it off. Bacon was excellent healing therapy.

  Her cell rang and she quickly answered it before one of the wardens—um, nurses—came in. “Hello?”

  “Poe, it’s Miles.”

  Miles Sawyer was her fabulous dance partner for The Fur Ball. She would be competing with her two boys. Her mother was in dire straits, and after all the help she’d given Poe, it was time to return the favor. She couldn’t let her mother lose her house. Not after she’d mortgaged it to help Poe pay for vet school.