Junkyard Dog

by Katja Desjarlais

  The dog laid his head on her armrest as she drove, chuffing in protest every time she stopped the soothing petting of his ears. “Demanding thing, aren’t you?” she muttered, turning onto the narrow road that led to the pass. “We’ve got an hour of daylight left. Let’s walk it.”

  Butch jumped from the truck and padded alongside her, his ears twitching with every bristle of the browning foliage. She kept one hand on the beast’s back as they made their way up the path, her steps slowing as the climb became steeper. “This isn’t so bad,” she panted, balancing on the poor dog more than she should. “No men. No moral conundrums. No weird rules. Just you, me, and the red coachwhip over there.”

  The dog placed himself between her and the snake, adapting his speed until she was out of striking distance.

  “You probably have another eight or ten years left in you,” she continued, bending down to pick up a discarded coffee cup and shoving it into her back pocket. “Better odds than wasting time on some random guy with a short shelf life.”

  Butch’s head turned up to her for a moment, his long fur flopping into his eyes.

  She wrinkled her nose at him. “You get it. Come on. Top of the pass and we’ll head back.” Looping the leash around her wrist, she continued the climb. “You know, it would be so much easier to just wham-bam-thank-you-sir that guy if he wasn’t so damn sweet. And funny. Super-hot guys are so rarely funny.” Butch chuffed and shook his head. “But there he is, being all chivalrous with opening doors and asking permission to kiss me. Who does that? None of the guys I date, that’s who.”

  Scooping a nasty cigarette butt off the sand, she shoved it into the crushed cup in her pocket. “And a bounty hunter? What the hell, right?” When Butch responded with a snort, she patted his head. “That’s one of those things that could put me on a daytime talk show.” Her hand tightened on the leash as her heart tightened in her chest. “Though I suppose Alex is the perfect final fling before I enter the career-spinster years Max keeps warning me about.”

  *

  Alex dropped his snout to the sand and froze.

  Pirithous.

  “Fifteen more feet,” Charlotte cooed, her fingers massaging his shoulders as she attempted to encourage him forward. She took another step, cursing in surprise when he snatched his leash from her hand and bounded ahead of her to block the way, his head lowered and ears flattened back.

  She eyed him warily. “Move, boy. I’m just going to peek over the ridge and we can go.”

  He growled low, his nose picking up the scent of his target among the large rocks to his right.

  “Butch,” she said, her voice stern. “Move.”

  When she took another step toward him, he bared his teeth and crouched, his hackles rising. The scent was dissipating on the faint breeze, intertwining with the odor of death.

  “What’s your problem, boy?” she grumbled, continuing her climb with deliberate movements intended to avoid spooking the dog in her way. “Come show me.”

  He backed up the over the rocks, his options limited.

  Biting Charlotte would be bad.

  Herding her could be worse, her footing on the stones already tenuous.

  Transforming would result in questions he didn’t want to answer. Probably more screaming than he liked, too.

  With his head swinging from side to side and ears tuned in to every rustle in the area, he monitored her as she progressed to the apex of the pass and looked around, her attention zooming in on a crevice.

  “See boy?” she whispered, beginning a descent down the other side and reaching into her back pocket. “Nothing to growl about.” She lifted small binoculars up as he nipped her shirt, tugging her back lightly. “I… Oh.” Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, my god.”

  Kill number three.

  He spread his paws across the stone as her balance wavered and she gripped his neck. He scanned the area for signs of movement, any indication the Pirithous line was still on-site. Satisfied that the scene was abandoned, he nudged her back to the peak, staying tight to her as she skidded down the rocks and took off toward her truck.

  *

  Max crouched beside Charlotte, refilling her mug with another cup of burnt coffee. “It’s midnight,” he barked to the FBI agent sitting across from them. “I’m taking her home and you can continue this after she’s had some rest.”

  She looked to Kevin, who’d been interrogating her relentlessly for four hours. “I don’t know what else I can tell you.”

  All business, the FBI agent nodded stiffly. “Fine. Be back on-site for noon and we can review anything else we’ve found at the scene.”

  Max extended his hand and helped her to her feet, setting the bitter coffee to the side. “You’re riding with me tonight. You can get your car when we come back in the morning, okay?”

  She nodded as they made their way outside. “Wait! Butch is out there. What if they mistake him for something and shoot him?”

  Max doubled back into the station and spoke quietly with Kevin for a moment before returning to her. “They’ll be on the lookout. Let’s go.”

  The drive to town was silent, Max periodically checking his phone once they hit the highway and Charlotte staring out the window.

  A foot. A foot with a sneaker on it.

  The FBI had located the other one shoved deep inside another crevice, following the trail of dismembered limbs, one arm still affixed to a backpack.

  She shuddered as Max looked down at his phone.

  “Everyone’s at the tavern,” he said quietly. “Why don’t we stop by there for a few minutes? Get a shot or two to calm your nerves?”

  She stared out the window. “I’m not sure I want to see Alex tonight.”

  Max sighed and slowed as he turned off the highway. “Everyone’s worried about you. If Alex is working, I’ll talk to him, okay?” When she refused to reply, he pressed on. “Unless something bad went down between you two.”

  She shook her head, forcibly ignoring the rising urge to jump out of the car and run to the tavern on foot, the sudden need to be wrapped tight in Alex’s arms entering a dangerous territory she didn’t want to deal with that night. “No. Nothing. One drink and we’re out.”

  *

  Alex kept his head down, meticulously drying the same glass for five minutes as he followed through on his promise to Max.

  Give her space.

  His hair fell forward, shielding his eyes as he watched Charlotte sit tight beside Max, her legs drawn up onto the chair, her face completely devoid of expression. Her fellow rangers had greeted her with hugs and reassurances when she and Max walked into the lounge an hour earlier, Max breaking off from the group to halt his beeline toward Charlotte.

  She needs us tonight, man. Not you. Not anything complicated.

  He ran his hand through his hair and shelved the glass, grabbing another from the dishwasher.

  Complicated.

  There was nothing complicated between them. Unless he counted every half-truth and omission on his end. Or Charlotte’s sudden freeze-out earlier that day.

  She’d given him little more than a tight-lipped smile when she came in with Max, her arms tight around herself when he jumped the bar counter in his need to ensure she was still unhurt.

  And it stung.

  He risked a glance over at her, his stomach turning when she laid her head on Max’s shoulder and he muttered something into her hair.

  Cute couple.

  “Can’t believe they allowed that girl to patrol the area by herself with everything going on,” Thomas grumbled, setting down a case of beer. “Poor thing, on her own seeing that.”

  He knelt to stock the fridge, unable to formulate a response outside a grunt of agreement.

  Had he picked up the scent earlier, been less distracted by her proximity and her words, Charlotte would never have made it to the peak. Never would have seen the dismembered body tucked unceremoniously into the crevices of the stones, the hiker’s shoes and backpack still affixed to his s
evered limbs. He would have fought her back to her truck on flat ground, feigning feral if he had to.

  If only he’d been more alert.

  More awake.

  If only he’d sent out the SOS to his brothers the night he’d found their prey.

  But he’d screwed up.

  He’d been so desperate to steal a few more precious hours of normalcy with her, he’d selfishly shoved aside his mission, his brothers, and her safety.

  The looping thoughts in his head turned his stomach as he shoved the last of the bottles into the fridge and stood, shaking his hair out of his eyes and crossing his arms as Max approached him.

  “I’ll settle the tab.”

  “Thomas took care of it,” he said, leaning against the counter. “She okay?”

  Max glanced back at the table. “What went on with you two? Anything I need to beat your ass for?”

  He looked down at Max, lifting a brow. “I think she’s bothered by our different life paths.”

  “That’s stupid,” Max replied, shoving a wad of bills into the tip jar beside the till. “They all lead to death, am I right?”

  *

  Max snatched a pillow off Charlotte’s bed and sat. “Set your alarm so we don’t both get written up for being late.”

  She nodded and rolled onto her side to check her clock. “So was he mad?”

  “Who? Alex?”

  She lay back and tossed her arm over her eyes. “Of course Alex. What did he say before we left?”

  Max hummed for a moment, annoying her with his false contemplation. “First tell me what the deal is between you two and then I’ll tell you what he said.”

  “Friends with limited benefits,” she muttered, booting her leg out when Max laughed. “Shut it. That’s as close as I’m getting to the hunk of beautiful man-whore.” When Max continued to snicker, she lifted her arm off her face. “I froze him out earlier because he suggested we head back to his place and it just seemed like too much and too often for what we’re supposed to be. And I may have wanted to go with him so bad I could taste it.” She groaned. “Why is something that’s supposed to be uncomplicated and uninvolved so damn involved and complicated?”

  He shook his head and patted her leg in the most condescending way he could muster without her smacking him. “I’ve obviously failed to teach you proper booty-call protocol. The key to keeping it casual is to, I don’t know, go with the flow casually. Don’t want to hang out? Hit him with a ‘sorry, babe, I’ve got plans.’ He doesn’t need to know your plans involve dying alone surrounded by your horde of cats.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I have one cat, Max. One.”

  “It’s a start.” He adjusted his position as his expression morphed into total seriousness. “Freezing a guy out implies you’re attached in some way. And that, Chuck, ain’t casual. You’ve seen how players play up close and personal. Channel that and you’ll be good to go.”

  “So I should bang some guy against Alex’s SUV to show him just how casual we are?” she grumbled, cringing when the memory of her last breakup zipped across her mind.

  He shrugged. “Maybe don’t take it that far. Start with responding to his texts a few hours after he sends them and build up.”

  With a huff, she tucked her blanket tight under her chin. “Games are just cruel. And he’s a smart guy. No way he’d put up with that kind of crap.” She wrinkled her nose. “And he’s too hot to have to put up with it.”

  “Yeah, well, so are you,” he stated. “But there’s a big difference between dating and a fling when it comes to boundaries, Chuck. You need to change how you think and act around Alex if you want to keep it chill.”

  Burrowing her head under the comforter, she groaned. “What if my heart doesn’t want to keep it chill?”

  “Hearts have no business in the fling game, Chuck. Remember that, and you’ll be golden.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Charlotte stared at the lone SUV in the tavern lot.

  Drive away. Get another cat.

  She smiled despite herself, Max’s ridiculous, and unsolicited, relationship advice ringing in her ears.

  It’s okay to test-drive a Ferrari, Chuck. Even if you know you won’t be buying it, you can enjoy the ride until the salesman tackles you, rips the keys from your hand, and calls the cops.

  Killing the engine, she exited her car and walked into the deserted lounge.

  “Alex?” she called, her eyes struggling to adapt to the dark interior after a long afternoon in the bright sun guiding FBI agents through Sheep’s Pass.

  He rose up from behind the bar, a pen between his teeth. “Ch…” He spat the pen into his hand. “Hey, Miss Charlotte.”

  She pulled up a stool and folded her hands on the counter, rehearsing the first line from her apology speech in her head before she spoke. “So, I’m kind of new to this friends-with-limited-benefits thing.”

  He eyed her warily, keeping his distance. “Same here.” He tossed the pen onto the counter and washed his hands out in the sink. “Was it the friends or the benefits that sent you running?”

  “I don’t even know,” she huffed, her practiced speech no longer sounding right in the moment. She took a deep breath. “I freaked out, and I’m sorry.”

  “No,” he replied slowly, easing his hands into his back pockets and scrutinizing her. “Freaking out usually involves yelling. And gives a lot more info about the reason. You froze.” He slid his phone toward her, his messenger app open. “If you’re second-guessing this, I get it. If it’s too much, I get it. But this radio silence…”

  She looked down at the unanswered texts sent to her and breathed out. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “You’re right. Wow, this is dumb. You’re going to be leaving. Which is good.”

  Scooping his phone back up, he retreated to the back of the bar again. “I will be, yeah.”

  “Soon?”

  His jaw tensed as his gaze moved past her face to the door opening behind her. “Probably.”

  She rose up on her seat, tucking her foot under her while she debated the stupidity of her next question. “Logically, friends with benefits sh—”

  “Friends with limited benefits,” he interjected under his breath, his eyes tracking the new customer.

  “Friends with limited benefits…” she hushed, glancing back to ensure she wasn’t being overheard. “Should have pretty clear lines between the friends and the benefits, limited as they may be.” She hunched over her coffee, her throat tightening in anticipation of her next statement. “Maybe we should keep this more in booty-call territory. If you’re okay with it.”

  His eyes widened for a moment before they darkened, his lips drawing tight. “Booty-call territory.”

  Keeping her attention on her mug, she nodded. “Yeah, well, you’re leaving soon. I could transfer out whenever something comes up. Neither of us are in a position to actually have a relationship, whether we want one or not.”

  Ignoring the immense man with the long black hair sitting at the end of the bar, he spread his hands on the counter and narrowed his eyes. “You want this to be nothing more than a hookup?”

  “No. Yes. No,” she stammered, flustered. “I’m trying to be realistic.”

  “Realistic,” he echoed.

  Looking up at him, she shrugged. “What do I say? Yeah, I want more than a hookup, but I’m not dumb enough to think it can be anything else.”

  “You’ve had a brutal twenty-four hours. You’ve probably slept, what, two or three of those? I’m going to hazard a guess based on your ponytail that you were at work this morning.” He ran his hands over his face. “I’m not sure you saying this now isn’t some knee-jerk reaction to the stuff you’re dealing with.”

  “I freaked out before I found the…” She paused as the visual flashed across her mind and set her coffee down. “I’m almost as bad at this as you are. And you, Alex, are really, really bad.” When he pursed his lips to keep from smiling, she leaned across the bar and stretched one hand toward him. �
�I forgave you for your ‘Becky’s my type’ speech, so you kind of owe me a mulligan. Think about it and text me when you decide what you want.”

  His strange eyes narrowed at her, his hand inching across the bar toward hers before he adjusted his stance, blocking her view of the large man behind him. “Are we negotiating the benefits, too?” he asked quietly, giving her fingers a quick squeeze and releasing them.

  “Ha! Maybe.”

  *

  Hades remained in place until the door closed behind Charlotte. “You heed her call.”

  Twisting the cap off a bottle of beer, Alex slid it across the bar and knelt to resume counting inventory. “Guy’s gotta get laid, right?”

  “You’ve yet to bed her,” Hades stated as he took a sip of the drink and thumped it down. “She still watches you with uncertainty and curiosity.”

  Jotting down the final tally, he tossed his notepad beside the till. “Just chasing rabbits. It’s always about the hunt, isn’t it?”

  His master rose to his feet slowly, his immense height dominating even Alex’s considerable size. Hades sauntered around the bar until he stood toe-to-toe with him. “Ryan will always return to me willingly,” he said, crossing his arms. “It’s in his nature to obey, to carry out my commands. He has always derived satisfaction from a mission well done.” When Alex looked away, he sighed. “And Bo? Bo follows Dionysus in all his incarnations, be it up here or back home. He’s easily leashed. Easily subdued with the right persuasions. But you, Alexandros.” He chuckled. “You obey out of obligation, an internal sense of duty. And I suspect my orders will not always take precedence.”

  Ducking out of Hades’s intense stare, he took a step back. “I’ve given you no reason to question the depth of my loyalty.”

  His boss glanced over his shoulder. “It’s not the depth I question.”