“Fuckers!” Marduke ran and heard a few pops, a scream, but mostly snarls. He arrived in time to find the car parked at a slant, bodies half pulled from the car. Dead. Bleeding.
The hellhound licking its chops.
Miguel, wearing some of that blood, sat beside it with his arm around its neck while Merry stood shell shocked in the door of the motel.
“Merry. You okay?”
Her lips trembled. “No. This is terrible.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong. The dog just protected and a good thing, too. They would have killed you.”
“I know. They’ll blame the puppy.” She blinked at him before saying, “You have to help me hide it before animal control has it put down.”
14
Merry might be in shock at the sudden violence that had occurred, but she remained coherent enough to know that the law would demand her sweet protective puppy be put down. Never mind the dog had saved their lives. Never mind Miguel had already bonded to it.
Faceless bureaucrats would interfere and make her son unhappy. Which, in turn, would make her sad, leaving her with only one choice. She had to ensure no one hurt the puppy-with-no-name.
“You’re worried about the fucking dog?” Duke’s eyebrows hit new heights.
“You know they’ll misinterpret what happened.”
“Yeah. I know. Fuck.” Marduke rubbed his face.
“I think this time we need to leave the city for good.”
“You’ll need more than that,” he muttered as sirens faintly wailed in the distance.
“I think someone called the police,” she stated as she noticed faces peering between curtains from the motel windows.
“This is bad. And not just for the dog. If someone says you sicced the dog on them, you could be in trouble, too.”
She bit her lower lip. “I’ll tell them the truth.”
“You’re not that naïve.”
No, she wasn’t. Her shoulders slumped. “Guess I’m screwed. But no need for you to get screwed, too. Just promise you’ll take the puppy before you go.”
“Wait a second. Are you trying to save me?”
“No point in us both going to jail. I don’t suppose you’d take Miguel, too? He won’t fare well in the foster system.”
Her sad face was what did it.
“You’re not going to jail.”
“We don’t have time to escape.” Indeed, the first flashing cruiser appeared at the end of the street.
“Trust me.” He did appear capable as he first scooped the dog and shoved it back into a pocket, then Miguel with a murmured, “Hold on tight, little man.” He then slung an arm around her and said, “Might want to close your eyes for the next part.”
Was he expecting them to be shot in a hail of bullets? She tucked her face against him, glad now that she’d taken a chance in his arms the previous night. What a shame it had to end this way.