Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
"He's fine," A told me, drawing my attention back to him.
"I, ah, why are you here?" I asked, though I was sure I already knew.
"Funny thing. I remember the two of us having an agreement. You heard that too, right?" he asked, looking over at his man.
"That's the way I heard it."
"You were unconscious," I snapped, immediately regretting the words.
"Fucking that biker put some spirit into you, huh?" A asked, smirking. "Guess that's good. It's good, yeah? Better than all that curling up in bed crying. Nah, don't worry, Doc," he went on when I felt myself stiffening, "I didn't put any cameras in your place. Can spot that red-rimmed eye look a mile off, though."
"I didn't want to tell anyone. I was keeping your secret. It wasn't me. There was... there was another witness who came forward," I told them, not wanting to throw Toll under the bus, but not wanting to be murdered in my own exam room either. I mean, even if I screamed, would Pagan and Finn get here in time? Were they even okay? How did A and his guy get in when they were stationed around the building?
"That's the way of it, huh?"
"Yes," I insisted, willing him to listen. "I swear. I tried to deny it. But no one believed me."
"Hard to be a single woman up against an army, yeah?" A asked, running a hand down the puppy's back. "Might want to remember that," he added. It was a threat, yet it wasn't. Almost like he was going to let this go?
"You... you don't seem angry," I said, swallowing hard.
"You're in my business, you find that anger ain't worth the time and energy it takes. If you expect everyone to fuck you over eventually, life is easier. You just gotta hope they hold off until after your plans are finalized."
"Is that why you're here?" I asked, feeling my heartbeat stutter. "Because your plans are finalized?"
God, what kind of plans did he have?
Were my loved ones going to be involved in some way?
Were we never going to be safe from the cartel?
"Something like that. Isn't that right, Val?" he asked, petting behind the puppy's ear.
"Val," I repeated. "The folder said Jean."
"Yeah, named him after Jean Valjean. You know... Les Mis?" he added.
I felt like my brain was short-circuiting or something. Because I couldn't seem to make all his words fit together and make sense in my head.
I mean what scary cartel leader named his dog after a character in a nineteenth century French novel?
"What?" A asked, giving me a knowing smirk. "Just because I'm a bad guy, I can't pick up a book?" he asked. "That's a little prejudiced of you, lil' mama."
"I, um, I'm having a hard time thinking straight right now," I admitted.
"See, I told you your ugly fucking face was gonna scare her," A said, teasing Marco, who was a good sport, only and only let out a snort.
"I just... why are you here? If you're not mad at me?"
"Can't a man get his puppy in for his rabies shot without having an ulterior motive?" A asked, shrugging, but I had a feeling he was deflecting. I just didn't understand why. Was he trying to distract me? Buy time for his men to be able to carry some wicked plan out before I could warn them?
"I, ah, of course," I agreed. Normally, the techs did the vaccinations, but we had one call out, so I'd brought the vaccine in with the chart.
"So how is Val doing?" I asked, moving closer to the table even if every instinct was telling me to stay the hell away from A.
"He's good. Good. Settling in nice with the rest of the pack."
"How many do you have?" I asked, checking Val's teeth, running my hands along his body, giving him some scratches when I got to his belly.
"Ten."
"You have ten dogs?" I asked, looking over at him. It wasn't uncommon these days to see families with three to five. Especially among the younger population since they were deciding not to have kids, so they doubled down on dogs, but I don't think I had any patients who had ten dogs unless they were breeders.
"Well, they all have jobs," he added, giving me a long look. It didn't take too much deducing to figure out what a pack of ten dogs might be used for. Protection.
I remembered my aunt who runs the paramilitary camp saying that time after time, when criminals were asked the biggest factor in deciding to break into a house or not was whether or not they had a big dog. Since security signs were often bullshit, and people forgot to set them, and most locks were laughably easy to get into. Even deadbolts. But a dog? A big dog snarling at you when you came up to the door? That was a big enough deterrent to decide to head to the next house.