I patted his hand. “Hope you don’t mind me using your house. I got permission this time.”
“It’s fine as long as you ask. I don’t like you snooping around.”
“Afraid I’ll find your cigar stash?”
He sat back. “I don’t smoke those things.”
“Bullshit.”
He did that thing where he stroked his mustache and goatee in a sad attempt to conceal his smile.
I glanced into the kitchen and noticed an empty bowl on the floor next to a water dish. “So how are things working out with you two? He seems to listen.”
As if sensing we were talking about him, the bullmastiff sat next to Crush and gave me a happy smile as Crush scratched his floppy ears.
“I hate to say it, but I think he’s working out just fine,” Crush admitted with a look of pride on his face. “Keeps me company, and I take him to work. Looks out for the property when we’re busy. Don’t ya, boy?”
“Hope he’s not scaring off the customers.”
“Nah. He seems to know who the bad guys are. Dogs know. Maybe that’s why he keeps running after your man.”
“Then maybe you should keep him away from me.”
“You’re sugar and spice.”
I crossed my legs and thought about the cold-blooded murders we’d committed the night before. “I’m the bad guy.”
“Maybe so, but you’re bad for the right reasons. That cancels shit out. Isn’t that right, boy?” Crush gave the dog another good rub on the head before resting his arms on the table.
“Please don’t tell me you named him Pickles.”
His lips twitched. “He didn’t respond to that name anyhow.” Crush laced his fingers together. “Meet Harley.”
“As in Davidson?” I reached out and rubbed his jowls—Harley’s, not my father’s. “That’s a good name for a good dog.”
“I guess he heard me using it a lot around the garage and thought I was talking to him. Makes sense that a dog should choose his own name.”
A bike rumbled in the driveway.
Crush stood. “I guess that’s my cue to get lost. Come on, Harley. Let’s go for a walk.”
“Don’t you need a leash?”
Crush opened the door and winked. “Where’s the fun in that?”
The only traffic that went by was the neighbors, so he basically had the road to himself. I had a feeling he was enjoying showing off his big bad dog.
I walked onto the porch as Ren dismounted his bike. Ren had a leather vest over his white tee. He reached the steps and rested his arm on the wooden rail. “That is one big-ass dog.”
Harley clumsily trotted down the steps, and when he reached the bottom, he sniffed Ren. His tail wagged like crazy.
Ren gave him a short grin and looked back up at Crush. “I still don’t like it.”
“I don’t give two shits what you like or don’t like. It’s none of your damn business what I do. He keeps me company, and he’s a good guard dog.” Crush lumbered down the steps until he was at the bottom. “I’m thinkin’ about getting a sidecar.”
Ren tucked his aviators into his shirt collar. “Don’t be one of those assholes who puts goggles on his dog. I’ll ban you from my property.”
“Fine.” Crush swaggered off, change jingling in his pockets. “See who’ll keep your bikes running as good as I do. And you can forget about that custom paint job.”
