She didn’t want to do it. Mean as those dogs looked, her beef was with their owner, not them. But if they came at her again, she’d have no choice.

The bigger dog was creeping toward her now, spittle flecked at his jowls, a growl deep in his throat. He wasn’t going to stay scared for long.

Jess took aim, but even as she did, the second dog was moving in to flank her, and she knew as soon as she shot one, the other would be on her. And on the other side, Whitmer was reaching for that cleaver again.

Then someone whistled, up toward the house, and Jess and Whitmer and the dogs all turned and stared, turned to watch Mason Burke step out from around another row of stacked cars.

“Hey,” he called out. “Hey, dogs, over here!”

Then he turned and ran, and that’s all it took. The dogs forgot Jess, and they forgot about Whitmer. They turned and hurled themselves after Burke, kicking up dirt as they covered the yard in a blink.

Whitmer laughed again. “That your new boyfriend, Jess?”

Jess shook her head.

“Good,” Whitmer said, “’cause he’s about to be lunch.”

She leveled the shotgun on him again. “You open the door to that kennel like I told you the first time, Bryce. Are we clear?”

Whitmer didn’t move for a beat. Then, chuckling to himself, he walked over to Lucy’s kennel and unlatched the metal grate, pulled it open. Lucy shrank back as he approached, stared out at him, shaking harder.

“Lucy,” Jess whispered, as calm as possible, nonthreatening. “Lucy, c’mon out, girl. Come on out here.”

Lucy perked up at the sound of her voice, but she didn’t move. Elsewhere in the yard, Whitmer’s dogs were losing their shit.

“Back up,” Jess told Whitmer, motioning with the shotgun. She backed him away from the kennel, replaced him at the grate. Kept the barrel pointed at Whitmer, but she bent down and looked into the kennel, clucked her tongue and reached out with her free hand.

“Come on, Lucy,” she said. “Time to go home.”

Slow, maddeningly slow, and shaking like she had hypothermia, Lucy edged away from the back end of the kennel, slunk around the wall until she’d nearly reached the open grate.

“Here we go, Lucy. Almost there.”

Then Lucy stopped. She’d caught sight of Whitmer again. Damn it. Jess reached into the kennel, caught hold of Lucy’s collar, and pulled as hard as she could, dragging the dog through the open grate. Slammed the kennel door closed, and looked up again just in time to see Whitmer making his move.

She spun the shotgun around. “Don’t you fucking try it,” she told him. “I’ll blow your head off from here, and your dogs can eat your damn brains for breakfast, if they can find any.”