“And I’m supposed to take your word for it, am I?”
He took another step forward, and I fought the urge to back away. “I’m good for my word.”
“I should call it in, for the dog’s sake.”
His eyes were fierce. “Don’t push it, estate manager. You don’t know me.”
Stand-off. I held firm until my adrenaline ebbed, fading away into nothing but jitters. “I just risked my job for that dog, and for what? So you can drag her back to life on the streets without even a thank you?”
“What you after? A fucking medal?” He stared at me, shifting from one foot to the other. My cheeks burned under his scrutiny. “What do you mean you risked your job?”
“I didn’t follow procedure.”
He dropped his eyes to the floor. “Don’t normally have much to say thanks for. Not used to it.”
“Is that your way of apologising?”
He shrugged. “Not much good with sorry.”
“Nor with a decent thank you, seemingly.”
He looked beyond me, to the buildings in the distance. “If you call the pigs I’ll run, they’ll never find us.”
“So, why aren’t you running?”
“Dunno,” he said. “Maybe I don’t think you’ll call the pigs.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“You know she’s better off with me. Else you wouldn’t have rescued her.”
“I did it for the dog,” I maintained. “Nothing to do with you.”
Liar. What the hell was I doing?
“Casey wants to be with me.”
“She’s a dog, she doesn’t know what’s best for her.”
“She knows what love is. She knows better than most people.”
My phone started buzzing. Office calling. Real life fucking calling. “Shit,” I said. “I’ve got to take this.”
He paced forward, and this time I did retreat, stepping backwards until I was cornered. He loomed over me, just like earlier, but this time he was so close I could feel the heat. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will. Don’t think I won’t.”
I breathed in his breath, skin on fire. Dangerous. I was alone, out of my depth, threatened by someone with no limits, no restraint, no fucking safe word. His eyes weren’t playing, no humanity staring back at me, not this time. I shifted against him, fighting the familiar thrill of being pinned.
“Go,” I said. “I’m done here.”
He released me in a flash, grabbing his holdall and walking away without a backwards glance. Casey followed, bounding along at his side like a different animal. Maybe he was right, maybe she did belong with him.
My phone was still ringing. I stared at the office number but it seemed so far away. Far away in a world of conformity and procedures and health and safety. I wasn’t ready to go back there, not yet.
“Wait!” I called.
He didn’t respond, didn’t even slow down. I had to run after him, grabbing at his elbow without thinking. The savage spun on his heels, wild, ready to attack until he registered it was me. His fist paused mid-air. I put an arm up to block him.
“Thought you were Jones,” he muttered. “What now?”
I don’t fucking know. “The dog... I’ll want to check up on her.”
“Check up on her?” he growled. “What does that mean?”
“Just to know she’s ok,” I said. “I’ll need your phone number.”
“Ain’t got one.”
“Do I look that fucking stupid?”
“The number’s 0791-mind-your-own-fucking-business,” he sneered.
“I got your dog back, and I’ll let you leave with her, but you will be giving me your number, or so help me God you’ll have to knock me out just to shut me up.”
He frowned for long seconds, then finally dug around in his bag. The handset was an old model, built like a brick. He scrolled through the numbers until he found his own, shoving it in my hand. I wrote it down on my clipboard, checking it once, twice, three times before I handed it back to him.
“Take care of her.”
“Always.” He pulled up his hood until his face was in shadow, and then continued away.
I watched him long enough to catch him turn back, just in earshot.
His words were simple, but they were sincere.
“I owe you, estate manager. I won’t forget this.”
Neither would I.
Chapter Three
Callum
Casey was nothing but bones, just like when I found her. I fought the red mist, ready to charge up to those cunting Scotts and make them pay, only I couldn’t risk it. Not now.
Case stuck at my side, just like old times, ears pricked up as we headed for our dinner. The bin round the side of Al’s fish and chip shop was usually packing with leftovers. I