Cruel Lover

I can see that his legs are wobbly. Whatever this is, it has nothing to do with what’s in that envelope. Was there a moment when I should have just taken it? What’s going on? I feel completely out of my depth, unsure what the right course of action is.

“This is your fault!” He hisses, his lips trembling. He throws the envelope down by the window. “It’s yours. Pick it up. Pick it up, Malta! Please!”

Instead of coming closer, I take a step back, shaking my head.

And that’s when the back door explodes.

Chapter Seven

Oz

When I got home I was worried. No Malta, just a note saying not to bother her again and a well-fed but confused Roxie. I was confused too. What had changed? Did I take things too far last night? Did she find the hidden cache of photos, taken while she was at college and when she got back here? Did it freak her out?

I checked and found the box still locked, and I’m pretty sure she’s not a master thief. So what then?

There was no time to sit and think. All I knew was that she was gone and I had to find her. So me and Roxie jumped in my restored Ford Fairlane and started driving.

Her dad’s place was the first place I checked. And I knew there was something up the moment I saw that Lexus parked in front of the house. Unimaginative corporate status symbol that it is, I knew it wasn’t a gangster car, but that didn’t mean my hackles weren’t raised. Something didn’t smell right, and in my line of work I’ve learned to trust that instinct. So I parked a couple of blocks down and approached on foot, Roxie going ahead of me round the back to check things out.

And that’s when I heard the shouting.

I could hear every word that fucker was saying. There’s only one reason someone would try that hard to get her to the window, and he made a mistake thinking I’d ever let that happen.

The door is good quality, but that doesn’t make a difference. I’d break down a fucking castle wall to save my angel from danger. Raising my foot, I hit it squarely, just above the lock, and hear the metal and plastic mechanism break with an almighty crack. The hinges twist as the door flies open, smacking hard into the wall behind it.

Both Malta and the piece of shit she called Brian turn instantly to look at me, and his eyes go wide.

“Wait! I was trying to do it! She wouldn’t…oh, God, please, I did as you asked!”

I growl in response, and Roxie barks angrily beside me, held back only by my grip on the fur at the base of her neck. Clearly he’s mistaken me for whoever he’s working for, but what he doesn’t realize is I’m far worse. I don’t anger easily, but that’s more because people tend to do as I ask before I have to get nasty. I’m not as tall as my brother Roman, nor as ugly. But what I lack in pure menace I more than make up for in ability to inflict pain.

“Step away from the window, baby,” I tell Malta, prioritizing her safety. “Do it now. Get over here behind Roxie.”

Whatever her grievance is with me, I’ll find out later. Right now, all she does is nod, her eyes telling me she’s grateful I’ve appeared, even if there’s some sort of a trust issue.

But the moment she moves, everything changes.

With Malta away from Brian and out of immediate danger, Roxie tears forward, out of my grip, snarling as she runs. His eyes go wide as he steps to the side, and too late I notice the red dot just inches from where Malta was standing. Clearly Brian hasn’t seen it either. He screams as he flees from the Husky’s advancing jaws, and whoever is on the other end of that laser sight has orders to take out their own guy if he fails.

Roxie leaps, teeth clamping onto Brian’s forearm, at the same time as the window shatters. Her massive weight knocks him out of the way, and his shoulder explodes in a plume of blood and bone. It would have been his head. He’s screaming, his face pale, but there’s no time to think.

“Roxie! Heel!” I shout firmly, knowing she’ll go straight to Malta’s side as I rush across the room. The sniper has either left or is reloading, but I don’t wait to find out which one. I grab Brian by the shoulder that just got hit, enjoying the howl of pain it elicits, and yank him back from the window.

The next bullet hits right where his balls would have been just a moment ago. He can thank me later.

“Who are you?” He sobs as I drag him to his feet, but I don’t answer.