This was the third morning he’d arrived to find the fucker still here and still alive. If the coons and possums didn’t want it as a snack, maybe an owl or hawk would. And a snack it would be since it might be only three pounds at most.
That first morning when he’d spotted it, he went inside and found his father. “Whose fuckin’ dog is that?”
“That what it is?” Cage asked. “Thought it was a rat that taught itself to bark. Rats are pretty fuckin’ smart, you know.”
“That thing’s uglier than a rat,” Rev called out from where he stood under a lift. “Hell, it’s uglier than Possum. And that prospect’s butt ugly.”
Rook snorted at that truth as Dutch shrugged. “Been out there all mornin’.”
He sighed. “Assholes are droppin’ off dogs now, too?” Kittens were always being dumped at their garage. Even a baby had been abandoned once on the property. That was how they found Dyna. Dropped off in a box like a litter of unwanted kittens. “Anyone try to catch it?”
Whip came out of the office and raised his hand, which sported a few Band-Aids. Five, at least.
Rook’s brow lifted. “Christ, that little fucker do that to you?”
The young mechanic nodded. “Yeah, went to pick it up and it snapped at me like a fuckin’ crocodilly.”
A what? “Should we shoot it?” Rook asked his father.
“Don’t you dare!” came a female yell from inside the office. “Nobody’s shooting it!”
“Don’t get your thong in a wad, Reilly,” Rook yelled back to the shop secretary. “Christ.” Reese’s sister could incinerate a man alive without blinking, but when they talked about shooting a four-legged pest? That was a no-go for her.
Women.
“Didn’t you say you wanted a pit bull?” With hands on his hips, Cage stood in the open doorway and jerked his head outside.
Over his brother’s shoulder, Rook could see the little black and tan short-haired terror standing out in the middle of the lot. Even from where he stood, Rook could also see it shaking on three legs, one foot hovering in the air with its tail tucked and glued to its own belly.
“That don’t look like no pit bull,” Rook muttered, moving closer to Cage to stare out past him.
“Right. Those little ankle-biters are worse.”
“It got tags?” Rook asked him.
“Go catch it and see,” Rook’s brother suggested with a grin.
“Someone needs to catch it. It might scare off customers.”
Cage shrugged. “Any time someone walks through the lot, it runs away barkin’ like it needs to bark just to propel it forward. Like when Tater walks and farts.”
Rook side-eyed his brother. “Propel’s a big word for you.”
“No bigger than douchebag.”
Rook narrowed his eyes on his younger brother. “Sounds like you finally got the road name you deserve. Jemma call you that when she’s ridin’ your pencil dick?”
“No, she calls you that when she’s ridin’ my monster cock.” Cage grabbed his crotch and shook it.
“At least she’s thinkin’ of me while fuckin’ you.”
“Yeah, she’s really into gay porn. You know, when one man’s churnin’ butter in another man’s ass. She figured you became an expert at that with all the time you did inside.”
“It ain’t gay when you’re doin’ the churnin’,” Rook said.
“Guess your butt buddy told you that.”
“He told me a lot of things.”
Cage had whacked his arm, shook his head and walked away, throwing over his shoulder, “All whispered romantically into your ear in the dead of night.”
Rook snorted at the memory from the other day, but that snort quickly disappeared as he now watched the Chihuahua eyeing him suspiciously when it took a few tentative steps toward him.
Maybe the fucker was hungry.
Rook toed the food bowl and yelled, “This shit’s for you, you little rat bastard!”
The dog skirted away in a fresh frenzy of barking.
“Shut the fuck up. Don’t you know you’re not supposed to bite the hand that feeds you?”
He had tried to capture the dog that first day. And the second day. Rook wasn’t so sure he was going to try it again today.
The dog was like a woman. Loved to be difficult. When you tried to give it a little loving, it snapped at you.
Rook stepped away from the bowls, squatted down and held out his hand. He waited there for a good ten minutes with the rat dog peeking out at him from under Rev’s old Bronco, occasionally letting out a single bark to remind Rook how ferocious it was.
Maybe he should get a pit bull. It would rid them of the four-legged problem they already had and maybe some of those stray cats out back, too.
He pursed his lips. His arm was getting tired by keeping it extended. Fuck that thing, he had work to do. He dropped his hand, stood up with a groan and gave the dog the finger. “Fuck you then, asshole.”