Pausing at her door, he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Hey.”
She was playing with the hem of her shirt, tugging the sleeves down over her thumbs as she stepped to the side to let him in. “Hey.”
The warmth he’d felt every time he’d entered Charlotte’s apartment was now uncomfortable and tense as she stepped into the kitchen and wrapped her arms around herself, examining the countertop with interest.
“I take it this is the talk,” he finally said, leaning against the kitchen entrance.
She took a deep breath. “Pretty much. I know we both agreed this was temporary, so I don’t know if we’re supposed to have the talk to make it official or something, but…”
His jaw flexed, a strange tightness forming in his chest. “What did Bo say to you?”
“Nothing I didn’t already know,” she replied, her hands twisting inside the long sleeves of her shirt.
He nodded absently.
He already knew what Bo had said to her.
He’d beaten it out of his wasted brother the night before, and had the bruises on his chest to prove it.
“Oh, wow,” Charlotte breathed out, shaking her arms out before she resumed her stance. “I suppose the park’s fair game for you, since you might need to, uh, work there. But I’ll steer clear of the tavern.” She frowned. “I guess poor Thomas’ll be shorthanded soon.”
He shifted his weight. “I’ve been stashing resumes for him under the till.” He took a step into the kitchen, freezing when she shook her head. “I’m not sorry we met.”
“Me either.”
He crossed the floor, pausing for a moment in front of her before he wrapped his arms around her and dropped his head into the crook of her neck, desperate to commit the scent of her shampoo to memory. “I’m really sorry for this though.”
She took a shuddering breath that hit him harder than Bo ever had, her calm demeanor cracking. “Me too. See you around.”
She kept her arms around herself, her head turning from him when he released her and backed into the hall without another word, the heavy click of a lock and the sound of Charlotte breaking down echoing in his head as he drove to work and began his shift.
*
Charlotte straightened her hat and tilted her rearview mirror, assessing her red-rimmed eyes with resignation.
No amount of eyeliner or powder could hide how she’d spent the past three hours.
She rifled through her glovebox for her sunglasses, grateful the autumn sun was still strong enough to warrant them for a few more hours.
She didn’t have it in her to answer any questions.
Walking into the station, she greeted everyone with a quick wave before hunching over the evening schedule and mapping her route.
“We’re back to solo runs,” Max called over to her, giving the small vending machine a shake until an aged chocolate bar fell out. “I’ll take the Pass, you take the Keys, we’ll meet up at the Garden on Pinto.”
“Sounds good,” she replied, her voice tighter and thinner than normal. “I’m heading out.”
His mouth full, Max muttered something unintelligible as she grabbed a set of truck keys and left, fighting the urge to break into a run and get the hell away from anyone and everyone as quick as possible.
The park was quiet, most tourists having been scared off by the rash of deaths in the region. She tossed her sunglasses onto the empty passenger seat and dropped the truck to a crawl, scanning the terrain halfheartedly for any signs of dead bodies, killers, or dogs.
Anything to take her mind off Alex.
She turned off the air conditioner as the sun disappeared, the chill that had settled in her body when he walked out still sitting heavy in her bones.
Little relationship experiment.
She blinked rapidly, taking deep breaths as she pulled over and threw the truck into park.
Neither of us will be shocked when this goes to hell.
She jumped out of the vehicle and ran her hands over her face.
She missed him already.
She missed him waiting for her to call, to tell him she had made it home safe.
She missed knowing her silent phone would ping incessantly once she hit the highway, menial messages and funny anecdotes filling her alerts.
She hopped onto the hood of the truck and lay back on the windshield, her fingers ghosting her gun. The coyotes began to chatter, their voices crossing between the hills and mountains of the park and bouncing off the rock. When a husky, gravelly crooning broke in, she sat up and called into the darkness. “Hey, Not-Butch. Where are you, boy?”
The useless sliver of moonlight hid the enormous beast until he was almost in striking distance of her, his stalking gait more predatory than Butch’s.
She slid off the truck and held her hand out, scratching under the dog’s chin as he lay his muzzle in her palm. “Where’s Butch? Hmm?” she cooed, smiling when the dog chuffed and nudged her fingers. “One of these days, I’m going to toss you two in the truck and take you home. I’ll be picking up a pretty collar for you, too. Maybe blue?”
The dog retreated a few steps, snorting and pawing the sand.
“I’m heading back to the station,” she said, standing straight and brushing her hands on her pants. “You coming?”
He padded up to her, using his head to herd her toward the truck and sitting back on his haunches when she relented and climbed in.
“Fine. I’ll bring some steaks out tomorrow.” She closed the door and rolled down her window. “Tell Butch I say hi.”
*
Alex gave the pretty brunette a smile and made a show of pocketing her number until she walked out, trashing it when the bar door closed.
“They can smell blood in the water,” Bo stated, folding the number the brunette’s friend had slipped him and tucking it into his phone case. He nodded toward a trio of women on the dance floor, their slinky moves in the deserted lounge a definite message to the brothers. “Two for you, one for me?”
Popping the cap off a beer, Alex pushed it across the counter to Bo. “Did you manage to book a hotel?”
Bo rolled his eyes and nodded, taking a swig. “Put it on Ryan’s credit card.”
He printed off the last two bills and set them beside the till, his fingers brushing over the resumes piling up. “What about the Pirithous?”
“Swung by there, too,” Bo replied, watching the dancing women with a mixture of interest and boredom. “No movement.” He leaned forward on the bar. “We could be in the final countdown, Lex.”
His shoulders tensed. “Don’t call me that.” He snatched the tabs up and hit the floor, dropping off one at a table of tourists before he strode across the dance floor and held the other out to the women. “Cashing out, ladies.”
A heavily made-up blonde took the bill, motioning for him to follow her to the pile of purses sitting on a table in front of the till. “Put it through on this,” she purred, passing him a Visa. She cocked her head toward Bo and smiled. “You two busy later?”
“Yup.”
He ignored Bo’s dead stare as he ran the card and passed the woman a pen. Her coy expression was gone, her eyes hard as she added a one dollar tip and signed off on the bill.
Bo held his tongue until the place emptied and Alex began counting out the till. “Get over one by getting under another,” he stated, pushing himself off the bar. “Might as well take what you can get before we cross over.”
He texted Thomas the total and tossed the cash into the bar’s safe, spinning the dial. “I’m good.”
He wasn’t good.
He was numb.
On autopilot since he walked out of Charlotte’s apartment hours earlier.
He grabbed his wallet and phone, not bothering to check the messages he knew weren’t there. “Let’s go.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Max broke off a piece of stale chocolate from his bar and passed it Charlotte. “I don’t care about what a nonissue you’re calling it, you sho
uld’ve told me.” He thumped his work boots onto her coffee table and snatched the remote from her. “You know, before I opened my stupid mouth.”
She popped the chocolate in her mouth and tightened her blanket around her shoulders, every muscle aching from the double shifts she had pulled for the past two days. All she wanted to do was stare blankly at the TV and crash from exhaustion.
Until Max walked into her apartment, hollering about Alex.
“The guy outweighs me by, like, forty pounds,” he grumbled, settling on an action film from the mid-80s. “And there I was, smacking him on the back and joking about you taking extra shifts so you could hook up with Jonas in the break room.” He wrestled a bag of chips open, handing her the rest of the chocolate. “My life passed in front of my eyes. Thomas and his brother had to talk him down long enough for me to get out of there.”
She continued to stare at the television.
“He looks like shit,” Max offered after a moment. “I got a real good look at his face when he slammed me onto the bar.” When she remained silent, he tapped her foot with his. “You don’t look much better.”
Inching her hand into the bag of chips, she shrugged. “Five shifts in three days’ll do that.”
Realizing she wasn’t in the mood to talk, Max got comfortable and turned up the volume. She kept her eyes on the movie without watching it, her mind drifting between her upcoming shifts and her growing laundry pile before it would inevitably loop back to Alex. Working the extra hours had been counterproductive to her plan to eliminate him from her head. Instead of filling her days and nights, it had given her hours of solitary drive time to think and had exhausted her to the point where she was no longer able to actively pursue not thinking about him.
She sank further into the sofa, tucking her legs up. “So did he say anything about us?”
Max crumpled the empty chip bag and threw it onto the coffee table, ignoring it when it rolled off the edge. “Nope. His brother filled me in after Thomas dragged Alex into the kitchen.”
*
Alex passed Thomas the night’s receipts and continued to stock the beer fridge under the bar owner’s watchful eye. “I’m fine. All good.”
The elderly man opened the till and began counting the bills. “I should probably fire you for that ridiculousness tonight,” he stated, lifting the tray to pull the larger denominations out. “But it’s Max, and I’ve had the urge to smack him around myself a few times.”
He snorted and closed the fridge, using the counter to heft himself to his feet. “It won’t happen again,” he said as he stacked the coins. “I don’t usually snap like that.”
Writing down his count, Thomas folded the paper and slipped it into the bank deposit bag. “Can I ask?”
“Charlotte and I just decided our arrangement wasn’t working out,” he mumbled, the reality of it knocking him in the gut as he said it aloud.
Thomas eyed him, zipped up the deposit bag, and tucked it under his arm. “I assume from your mood it was her decision?”
“Mutual,” he replied, staring at the stack of resumes under the till. “I’ll finish up here and lock up.” He gave Thomas a tight smile. “An hour or two of scrubbing down table legs should burn off any remaining aggression.”
“I’ll clock you out for three and leave your pay up beside the till.”
Alex moved methodically through the bar, washing down every surface he could reach until his muscles ached and his feet were protesting. Collecting the soiled rags, he straightened up the last of the clean bar glasses and prepped the bar for the next morning.
Ice loaded.
Cutlery wrapped.
Billfolds and menus stacked.
He pulled the collection of resumes out from under the till, scrawling a quick note about his top choices as he added the wad of cash Thomas had left out for him to the pile. Scanning the stock of bottles under the counter, he selected four, tucking them under his arm before he walked out of the lounge and set the lock code for the last time.
*
Charlotte parked her car on the small gravel path and reached into the back seat to grab her stash of water bottles, bowls, and a small cooler. She balanced the items carefully under one arm while she tugged the hem of her shorts down and adjusted her shirt. Slipping her keys into her back pocket, she slipped a bright blue collar and leash over her wrist and began the hike to the top of the rocky ridge to the south.
“Where are you, boy?” she called, watching the scuffed path for the animals that were waking as the sun’s peak waned. “I brought steaks and water.”
Glancing back to ensure her vehicle remained in view, she continued the climb, calling out every few minutes until she reached the end of the established pathway. She sat down on a rock, carefully filling the water bowl and opening the cooler to pull out the steaks she’d cooked up earlier in the day.
“Come on, puppies,” she grumbled. “Not-Butch, I know you want this.”
The desert was slowly coming to life, the ground scattered with small reptiles and snakes beginning the hunt for their nightly meals. She scanned the terrain, puncturing the quiet evening with intermittent whistles and calls until a low, clear howl carried across the land in reply.
She continued to whistle in response, smiling when the dog mimicked her tunes, his voice growing closer until she caught sight of him stalking over the rocks to her left, black collar hanging around his throat and his leash swinging from his jaws.
“There you are, boy,” she said, lifting the bowl of steaks. “Where’s your buddy?” Butch approached her tentatively, keeping just out of her reach. “Hungry?”
She lay the bowl down, nudging it toward the beast with her boot. He sniffed it and looked up at her, his eyes obscured by his long fur.
“Go on,” she urged. “Where’ve you been hiding all week?”
Butch dropped his leash beside the bowl and tore at the meat as he watched the terrain, his ears up and twitching. When he finally finished the last of the steak, he pushed the bowl back at her, his head bowed.
“I knew you’d be hungry,” she cooed, exchanging the empty bowl with the water. “Max says I’m nuts for doing this. But you know what? Screw Max.”
Butch snorted, lapping at the water.
“It’s beautiful out here,” she mused, looking around as the sun cast incredible shadows. “I forgot how stunning it can be. Too wrapped up in pretty boys and murder scenes, I guess.”
The beast’s ears flattened for a moment, a low growl rumbling through him.
She reached over to scratch his ears, pausing when Butch flinched away for a moment before relenting. “Is this your new hunting ground? You won’t get many bunnies here, but the snake meat must be pretty plentiful.” She took a quick look around, moving her hand under Butch’s chin. “I could definitely come here more often. Would you like that, boy? Fresh steak and water every day?”
Butch backed out of her reach and tilted his head before he barked, knocking the water bowl over with his paw. She leaned over and picked up the bowl, looking toward him. “Is that a no?” she joked, stepping back when Butch flattened his ears and bared his teeth at her. “Don’t you start.”
She tucked the empty bowls into her cooler and zipped it up as Butch circled her, his hackles raised. Slowing her movements to avoid spooking him, she rose to her feet and began cooing platitudes at the dog, frowning when he became more agitated, his stance becoming defensive as he slapped the leash toward her with his enormous paw.
“It’s okay, boy,” she said softly, keeping her attention on him as she made her way down the path, Butch pacing behind her. “You know me. It’s okay.”
She jumped when he snarled in response, stalking closer to her until she resumed her trek to her car. Picking up her speed, she patted her hip where her work weapon usually sat, her fingers flexing when she remembered she was in civilian dress. Butch remained in sight on her left, growling at her every time her footsteps slowed.
“What’s wrong, damn dog?
” she muttered, scanning the darkening terrain for any sign of Not-Butch. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”
Butch snapped at her, his teeth grazing her arm before he ducked his head and shoved the collar off his neck.
Her heart leapt into her throat and she drew her arms in tight to herself. She breathed deep to calm herself, her car almost within reach as Butch’s growl followed her to the car door and she jumped in. Her hands shook as she started the vehicle, angling her rearview mirror so she could track Butch while he paced behind her, his enormous teeth on full display until she threw the car into drive and eased onto the road, her heart thumping in her ears.
By the time she hit the highway, her hands had stilled, the adrenaline in her system from Butch’s strange behavior finally waning. She glanced down at her arm, breathing a sigh of relief to find he hadn’t nicked her.
Damn dog.
*
Alex sat on the ridge, his eyes absently tracking a small snake as Bo padded up to him, nose wrinkling when he took in Alex’s scent. Shaking his head, Bo took up position beside him and scanned the area, his ears twitching as he catalogued the sounds of the desert at night.
Rising to his feet, he wound his way through the harsh stone, ignoring Bo when he chuffed in annoyance and followed suit.
He shouldn’t have approached her.
He should’ve continued his hunt for the missing Pirithous, continued on the path along the mountains where the abandoned rental had been located the night before.
He should’ve tracked her from a distance, stayed out of view until she gave up and went home.
He should’ve let her think Butch had moved on to greener pastures.
With her scent still clinging to him, he broke into a jog as the ground flattened, sand replacing the unstable rock beneath his feet. Bo came up tight beside him, nipping at his hindquarters until Alex relented and launched ahead full speed, his brother in pursuit.
They crossed the main road of the park, dodging the chollas until they made it to the small enclave where he had parked his SUV.
A road Charlotte didn’t frequent during her shifts and hadn’t sought out on her days off.
Junkyard Dog Page 17
