The guy sat up slowly and shifted so that he could look behind him to where Jack was. “Huh?”
“The boat! Get on the damn boat!”
Jack knew what the man was thinking: he could just make a run for it and escape the dogandthe cop. But the other side of the yard was too far, and running would most likely trigger the dog’s prey drive. Instinct was instinct.
The fence he’d hopped over, the one that was behind Jack now, wouldn’t work, either, because the path would take himright back by the dog who’d temporarily turned his sights on Jack.
That boat was the safest option.
“Go! I have him distracted,” Jack urged.
Being a cop sure was weird, he mused silently. The duty you swore to uphold meant sometimes you end up protecting the guy who, only moments before, fired a damn hand cannon at you.
The perp was smart enough to take Jack up on the offer.
He clumsily scrambled up the trailer and into the boat. Now Jack had another problem.
There were two threats he had to keep his eyes on.
The perp had dropped one gun. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t another.
And there was still the little matter of the dog that was stepping closer with each passing second. Frothy drool still welled from his curled lips. It almost seemed as if he was foaming at the mouth.
That’s just what I need,Jack thought.Rabies.
He didn’t think the dog was really rabid, though. At least he hoped not. He was probably just enraged.
Very enraged.
He lunged at Jack.
“Whoa there boy. Easy.” He was able to sidestep the animal and avoid fangs sinking into the side of his stomach, but it had been close.
“I’m actually a dog person. I have a golden retriever at home.”
The beastly menace charged again.
“I guess you don’t like retrievers!” Jack said as he jumped back.
He would have to pepper-spray the thing. That was better than shooting it, he reminded himself. But he still hated to do it.
Extending his arm, he brought the can forward. But just before he applied pressure to the trigger, a flood of officers swarmed the scene.
“What took you all so long?” Jack asked.
No one answered, because all eyes were on the dog who still seemed intent on charging.
A few tense seconds ticked off the clock before a look of defeat registered in the canine’s eyes. It lowered its head, turned around, and trotted back into the doghouse.
Jack let out a long sigh, thankful that he didn’t have to spray the animal.
And damn thankful to be alive.
Chapter Three
Auntie Athena’s West Hollywood Nursery was located in the part of town its name implied, on Hammond Street.
To the casual passer-by, it looked like many buildings in the area. It was a three-story structure made of white stucco with a red Spanish-tile roof.
