Canine Cupids for Cops

by Deirdre O'Dare

  Trek’s bright blue gaze snapped to Dan. He smiled. “A lot of people wonder. It’s actually LeTreque, which my mother insists is an old family name. It sounds French to me, but I know Grandpa was mostly German and Irish and I’m not sure about Grandma’s ancestry. Hell, maybe it was from my dad’s side. I never knew too much about him except he was in the military. He wasn’t much of a daddy type.”

  He shrugged in a dismissive gesture. “Who knows? I shortened it to Trek long before the idea of being a travel writer ever popped into my head. Just serendipity, I suppose. Maybe the name created the future.”

  After they finished breakfast, Dan excused himself and went to his room. He might be making a mistake, but right now he planned to knock Mr. Trek DuHamel right out of his very elegant Sketchers.

  Dan shucked the uniform, right down to and past his skivvies. Then he pulled the bag out from under the bed and took out the chaps. The stiff leather felt odd against his skin as he stepped into them, but the abrasion was also exciting. He was half hard before he had the belt fastened and settled the chaps low on his hips. He paused just long enough to slip a couple of items from the nightstand into the pocket on the chaps’ left leg.

  Barefooted, he eased the door open and tiptoed out into the hall. He paused, listened. Trek was still in the kitchen, so he padded quietly toward those noises. He found Trek whistling tunelessly as he stuck the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher. The bent-over rear view looked so fine, Dan had to clear his throat before he could speak. At the sound, Trek whirled to glance his way. And stopped, totally frozen, dead still.

  “Oh my God and a million little kittens!”

  He appeared much closer to totally flummoxed than Dan could have imagined. Dan had no idea how he looked; he had carefully not even glanced at his mirrored image on the closet door before he left his room.

  “You remembered, you planned…Turn around real slow and let me take you all in.”

  Dan obeyed, feeling both stupid and incredibly hot. He’d never done anything as crazy as this before and might never again, but this was one for the books. He’d try to etch it into his memory with indelible ink. All his blood having gone south, he felt dizzy and unbalanced, but he turned.

  “Again,” Trek ordered, his voice ragged and breathless. “Wait, I’ve got to get a camera.”

  “No way,” Dan almost screamed. “You can’t. Somebody else might see it, and I’d just die. Stuff gets leaked and accidentally released and…Please, no!”

  “It’s just for me. I’ll download them into a hidden directory on my computer, but when I’m far away, I want to remember just how amazing you look!”

  “Them? You’re taking more than one?”

  “I’m making a fucking video. Shut up and relax!”

  After half a minute or so, Trek set the camera aside. “It’s not quite my first rodeo, but, cowboy, I want you to give me the ride of a lifetime.”

  Trek dropped his slacks and shorts and turned to lean over the breakfast bar counter. He glanced back over his shoulder. “You better have a rubber and some K-Y because I’m in no mood to wait.”

  “Got it covered.” Dan pushed the short reply through a dry throat. He paced forward until he almost met Trek’s bare ass. There he paused, lifted his right leg, and slipped it between Trek’s spread limbs. He made sure the leather rubbed against the other man’s thighs and brushed under his balls.

  Trek groaned. “Oh gawd, that feels incredible. I want more, though. Fuck me, man. Fuck me like you mean it.”

  “I’ll mean it, no question about that.” Already harder than a branding iron, Dan grabbed the condom and tore it open while he continued to rub against Trek. He rolled it on and then waited just long enough to squirt a bit of lube on his sheathed prick and down Trek’s crack before he dove in.

  Trek did a good job of bucking and twisting, enough to make sensations wilder than ever for them both. Dan hung on and gave it the ride of his life, blind and dizzy in the last few seconds before he exploded into a dynamite earthquake of a climax. Trek, braced against the counter and clutched the edge until his fingers went white, joining in Dan’s howl of release. Overcome and exhausted, Dan slumped forward over Trek’s body. He could feel their pounding hearts, almost in unison, shake them both.

  Finally he drew back and straightened. “I must be crushing you,” he said. “Sorry.”

  “No hurry,” Trek murmured. “It felt good. I could lie there under you and that leather forever.”

  “I’m not sure what to do for an encore,” Dan said, “but the long night and lack of sleep is getting to me. Is it too early to suggest a nap?”

  “Unless you insist on being a solitary napper, it’s a perfect time. For some reason I didn’t sleep real well either.”

  * * * *

  From then on, the days flew past like a freight train roaring through town at track speed. The would-be car thief was arraigned; Trek gave the court a notarized statement; they visited a few more local attractions; and then Commando’s quarantine was over.

  Dan tried to maintain a light, breezy attitude as if nothing mattered beyond the present day. He wasn’t sure if he convinced Trek, but it wasn’t working for him. How could he go back to the way everything was before? Except he had no choice.

  They ate a fast breakfast the morning Trek decided to leave, mostly quiet but for a little idle, meaningless chitchat. Afterwards, Trek finished gathering up his things and loaded the rental which Trek had arranged to have returned later. Commando hopped right in, ready to go wherever it went. He seemed to have taken over the rented GMC Denali and made it his own.

  Dan stood aside to watch, mute and miserable. He was almost ready to beg, but he wouldn’t, couldn’t. What good would one more day do, anyway? Trek was going to go, he had to go. He was a traveler, not a stay-home small town sort of guy.

  Trek paused and turned toward Dan. “It’s been amazing. Alamo Junction is now on my map with a big red star, and I’ll bet the traveling public will be burning up the interstate to visit and take in all the attractions. I’ll probably be back this way now and then too.” He paused as if not sure what else to say. “You stay safe now, and don’t try to stop any of the bad guys’ bullets. We need all the good cops we can keep.”

  Dan cleared his throat and finally forced out the necessary words. “You be safe too, and keep the keys in your hand whenever you get out of the car. Take care of that dog too. He’s quite a guy.”

  “Oh yeah, right…on the keys. But seeing how this worked out, who knows what I might run into next time I get dog-jacked? Still, I’ll probably keep Commando even closer from now on.”

  He reached to give Dan a fast awkward hug. Dan hugged back but did not try to hold on when Trek turned away and opened the driver’s-side door.

  “Hasta luego,” Dan said. There was no way he’d utter anything like good-bye, not even adios. The Latino equivalent of “see you later” left at least a possibility open.

  Trek only smiled, shoved on a pair of very dark sunglasses, and stepped up behind the wheel. He gave a final jaunty wave once he’d backed into the street and turned to head toward the freeway. Dan quit watching before the vehicle rounded a corner and disappeared from his sight.

  He spoke aloud, trying to make himself feel real. “I think I’d better go down to the shelter and find me a dog. I never did like talking to myself.” He knew how empty the house was going to feel, and he didn’t want to face that quite yet. He reached back in for his keys and then got into his truck.

  Chapter 8

  Although Dan told himself he did not expect it, he felt increasing twinges of disappointment when Trek did not call or even text that he’d made it home or wherever he had gone. How was the Fury? How was Commando? Did Trek miss Dan even a little bit?

  Several weeks passed, and he still had a long ways to go if he was going to forget that incredible interlude. At least he now had Jovita. The day Trek left he had gone to the shelter. For some reason he went first to the area where the female
dogs were housed. No, he told the young woman who was on duty, he really did not want a Pit Bull even though they were often harder to get adopted. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, really. Maybe he’d know when he saw it.

  He did. This dog sat in the last cage, crouched low and looking anxious. Her ears drooped, but her tail gave a tiny twitch and then another as Dan drew close. She was a mottled color, mostly black and white mixed to make a tweedy pattern with a few solid black spots and some tan on her legs and face. She had pointed ears. When he spoke, they came up, giving her face a foxy look. The tail moved faster, wider.

  “Little gal, I think you’re going to go home with me.”

  He paid the fee and learned the shelter called her simply “mixed breed, female.” He could see a lot of Blue Heeler in her, but there was clearly a bit of something else too, maybe hound. The young woman said she was about a year old and had been spayed. She went on to explain that since she’d been there over a week, they’d begun to worry about her although they tried to keep a no-kill operation unless they got seriously overcrowded. Even then they sent dogs elsewhere when they could. Still, this little gal had been timid and often turned her back when people came in. No one wanted a dejected, standoffish dog.

  None of that bothered Dan a bit. She’d looked as woebegone as he felt. Dan took her home that day and puzzled over a name. Then he remembered a little girl he’d taken out of an abusive, drug-using home a few months back and delivered to Child Protective Services. He taken time to check and learn she’d been placed in a good foster home and was safely out of the bad environment. The name she had given him was Jovita. That odd moniker seemed to fit this dog. She responded to it almost at once.

  Jovita quickly warmed to Dan and bonded with him. Whenever he was home, she’d be right there, at his feet or by his side, snuggling as close as he’d allow and watching him with bright but gentle eyes. Other than that one joy, life had fallen into a dull, depressing kind of rut. Get up and go to work, come home to do the few essential chores around the house, and then sit most of his time off, staring blankly at the TV or playing music he hardly heard just to run off the deadly silence.

  He was existing, but could hardly call it living. He cussed himself for letting Trek make such inroads into his life, yet when he thought about it, he could find no way he might have prevented it from happening. Some things were as inevitable as death and taxes. Maybe falling in love was one of them.

  Finally acknowledging there was no point in fighting it, Dan let himself dwell on the memories more, recalling the fun times they had shared, Trek’s almost child-like enthusiasm for new and odd things, and his quick and quirky sense of humor. I’ll never find anyone else like him, for sure. Why am I so far from even a poor copy of cool and interesting?

  * * * *

  Jovita’s sharp bark jerked Dan from a doze. He’d just come home from an unexpected day shift because he’d had to testify in a trial. Now he had some extra hours off to transition back to the graveyard shift. It was no treat. It only meant more time to get through—somehow.

  What’s the matter with her? She knows most of the neighbors now and seldom barks at them. Maybe there’s a salesman or something. He stumbled to his feet and headed toward the carport door in the kitchen. He’d gotten a pet weight screen put on the outer door to be sure Jovita stayed safely inside. It was much heavier than normal screen and dark, making it hard to see outside.

  The first thing he saw was a strange vehicle which had parked beside his truck. Some kind of monster SUV dragging a big closed trailer. He couldn’t see too clearly, but he thought he glimpsed a man and maybe a dog in the vehicle. Then the man got out, and the dog leaped after him. That tawny coat looked familiar. The distinctive shape did too. Commando?

  Jovita yapped in shrill excitement. She liked other dogs, so he’d been taking her to the dog park at one side of the kids’ playground a couple of blocks away whenever he could. Now she was whining and wiggling with excitement.

  Wait a minute, if that’s Commando, then it has to be Trek…Dan flung the door open and stepped out. Jovita shot past him and danced dizzily around the man and the dog.

  Indeed it was Trek, clad in jeans and a plaid western shirt, wearing boots instead of athletic shoes or loafers and a dust-tan western hat. He stood at the front the vehicle, a hesitant expression on his face. He reached up and pulled off the sunglasses. Anxiety shone in his eyes.

  “Am I still welcome, me and my dog?”

  It looked like Trek; it sounded like Trek. Would it feel like Trek? Dan crossed the space in two fast strides and reached out. Trek almost threw himself forward, right into Dan’s embrace. As Dan lowered his head to find Trek’s smiling mouth, he knew for sure. It was his unique, aggravating, exciting, and very precious friend.

  “Hell yes, you’re welcome. Both of you.”

  Trek returned the eager kiss and then drew back. “You’ve got a dog,” he said. “I hoped you would. Everybody needs a dog, a real special meant-for-them dog. From the way Commando is sniffing her over, it has to be a girl.”

  Dan nodded. “Yep. Meet Jovita. Jovi, this is Commando and his person, Trek. They’re always welcome so you can forget about barking at them next time.”

  Dan led the way back inside. “Hungry? Thirty? Tired?”

  Trek grinned. “All of the above. I made the best time I could all the way from Memphis. I have the Fury back, but I’d gotten another car in the meantime, one more suited both for exploring and transferring us to a new base camp. Even travelers need a base camp, some place to always come home to. I haven’t had one for too long, but maybe now…”

  Dan looked at them in wonder, almost disbelief. “I don’t think I’m hearing you right. A base camp? To come home to? But you’re the world-traveling and famous Trek, on the road again even more than Willie. I can’t hope that you’re thinking of making that home place here, in a dirty, dull little desert town…” He wasn’t making much sense, hardly coherent, too scared to believe what his ears seemed to be hearing.

  “We may not really fit right here, at least not on a permanent basis. That’s up to you, but I expect we can find another little house to rent or maybe buy, Commando and me, if that’s the case. And I do mean to relocate. Everything I value—well, all the stuff I value—is in the car and the trailer. I got the trailer to carry the Fury and some other things, keep them safe and secure from weather and vandals. I—we—I should have called or something and let you know. You probably gave up on me because I never gave you a hint, did I? Oh, fuck it, I’m talking too much and too fast and…”

  “And it’s music to my ears,” Dan broke in. “I don’t know if four of us can manage in this little house, but if we can’t, we can always get a bigger one or build onto it. Anyway, you’ll still be going a lot, won’t you? I mean that’s what you do.”

  Trek drew a deep breath. “Yeah, going, at least quite a bit, but always coming back so long as we’re welcome.”

  Dan could not hold back his grin any longer. “Welcome as a rainbow, a pot of gold, a best friend forever. Let’s have a beer, and then I’ll try to show you just how welcome you are.”

  THE END

  Saved By Sam

  Chapter 1

  Roy Dunham gave a lackadaisical swipe to the shiny surface of the bar. He glanced up at the clock, then issued the time-honored warning. “Last call for alcohol.” It was a few minutes short of one o’clock in the morning. Most of the regular crowd had already tipped their last glass or bottle and left. A couple of die-hards were going to wait until the last minute. It had been a slow midweek night. His tips barely made the shift worthwhile.

  Oh, well, there’ll be other nights.

  He stepped out from behind the bar, starting across to turn off the flashing neon advertising sign and flip the one on the door to read CLOSED. At that moment, the door swung inward. A tall, impressively well-built man in the dark blue uniform of the San Pablo police department entered the bar, a sleek, tawny dog at his left, pointed muzz
le even with his knee. Roy stopped in his tracks.

  Gawdamighty, that’s the most gorgeous hunk of manhood I’ve ever seen.

  The officer could have posed for a recruiting poster for some Viking’s crew, an epitome of Norse masculinity. He wore his sandy-blond hair buzz-cut close to a well-shaped skull. Chiseled features with high cheekbones and an angular jaw set off a pair of brilliant blue eyes. Below that, broad shoulders barely fit through the bar’s front door. His body was a perfect wedge, tapering from those impressive shoulders down to lean flanks and long legs. The man’s military posture set off his uniform, well-fitted navy blue shirt and trousers, glossy black leather belt, holster and other gear, and the shiny bronze badge on his chest.

  “Everybody, stay right where you are. My dog located drugs in a car out in the lot. The man who was heading toward it fled when he saw us. I think he came back inside.”

  Roy stood his ground. “Nobody’s come in for the past half-hour, officer.” The man might look like a Teutonic god, but his arrogant tone grated. “This is a quiet, orderly place. We don’t tolerate drug dealing, violence, or anything but law-abiding behavior.”

  The gas-flame blue eyes flickered to him and as quickly away, in clear dismissal. When the policeman barked a harsh, guttural word, the dog left his side. It began to move around the room in a zigzag pattern, dark nose twitching.

  Roy stepped back a couple of paces to edge behind the bar. The dog and the cop both ignored him. After the dog sniffed and then passed the three remaining patrons, the cop gave them a nod. “Get out. It’s closing time, whether you’re done or not.”

  For a moment, Roy considered raising a protest, but then he decided it wouldn’t do any good. Besides, the Tavasci Brothers, who owned The Sundown Club and several other bars around San Pablo, didn’t like trouble. They wanted business to be quiet, orderly and completely within the confines of the law. Crossing a cop was not in their standard operating procedures.