To Die For - Davidson King Page 0,21

it all started. I vaguely remember seeing Max behind the bar, flirting with some guy and trying the same shit with me. I flipped the switch that day and never dared flip it back.

Atlas was happy when I told him I was able to get in touch with a few others to perform, and even though the stress and worry over Dorian being in Haven Hart loomed, I was letting myself enjoy this feeling of performing.

I hadn’t heard from Dorian at all since he came into my studio the week before, and I was glad…and worried. I knew he had a plan; I just wasn’t privy to it. A few times one of his people would drive by the studio, and I’d seen them at Joker’s Sin. There was no question they were sent by Dorian. I wasn’t running, though. I’d made a place for myself here in Haven Hart; I just needed to figure out how I’d get Dorian to fuck off.

I had just walked into my apartment after a long day—hell, a long week—and heard Tank whimpering.

“Tank, sweetie-pie, where are you?” I ran through my apartment searching for him. I saw him in the corner of my room just as I stepped through the door. “How’d you get in here, silly pup?” I reached down and realized why he was whimpering. His little paw was stuck in the floor vent for the central air. This was why I didn’t let him into any of the rooms where he’d get hurt during the day. It being autumn, I’d covered all of them except in my room because he didn’t come in unless I was in here, and he only ever sat on my bed.

“Let Daddy see.” I flipped the lamp on next to the bed and was able to gently pull his paw out. “It’s okay.” I kissed his head while he continued to whimper. I had no idea how long he’d been stuck there or if he’d really hurt himself. “I’m so sorry. I thought I closed my bedroom door before I left this morning, baby.”

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my cell phone. Tank’s veterinarian had an on-call service, and I left a message with them. I brought Tank to the kitchen to get him some water, and he drank out of the bowl as I held it for him. When the vet called, he asked me to see if Tank could walk and when I tried, he was limping and refused to go any farther, plopping on the ground.

“I think he twisted it, I didn’t mean to leave my door open—”

“Don’t beat yourself up. You’re human, we make mistakes. Bring him to the twenty-four-hour clinic. I’ll meet you over there,” the vet said, and my already exhausted body ached, knowing I was in for an even longer night.

“Okay.”

I grabbed Tank’s leash, scooped him up, and after retrieving my keys, headed to the garage. I was so tired that when the elevator doors opened I wasn’t paying attention and walked right into what felt like a brick wall. Tank yelped, and I felt awful.

“Oh, I’m sorry, baby,” I said to Tank as I kissed his head.

“Aww, you don’t have to call me baby, I can handle a little bump and grind.” I lifted my head at the voice, shocked to see Max…even more shocked that he was being snarky.

“What the…why are you here?” I petted Tank as he shivered.

“What is that?” Max pointed to Tank.

“My dog. You do know what a dog is, right?”

“That is not a dog, that’s a fluffy rat.” He crinkled his nose.

“I have no time for you right now.” I moved past him toward my Jeep.

“It’s like midnight, where are you going at this hour?” Max shouted after me.

“I have to get Tank to the clinic; he hurt his paw.” I got Tank into the back seat, settled in his little doggie car seat.

“You named it Tank?” Max was standing right there when I shut the door.

“Yes, he is mighty. Now move, I have to go.”

Max’s booming laughter echoed through the parking garage, and while I could admit he was gorgeous when he looked so carefree, I really did have to go to the clinic. I opened the driver’s door and got in. I had no time to talk with Max.

I had just started the Jeep when the passenger door opened and Max hopped in.

“What happened to the mighty Tank’s paw?”

Max shut the door, and I realized he wasn’t going anywhere.