I glanced down at the suspicious lump on Rainbow’s left hind leg. “It’s a non-cancerous growth. The vet said?—”
“It looks like a dildo.”
Ryker’s laughter finally escaped, a rich sound that carried across the room. Even Rainbow turned her good eye toward him.
“Seriously,” Axel continued, now on a roll, “she could join Barnum & Bailey Circus. They’d bill her as the World’s First Dog-Shaped Question Mark.”
I glared at him, my grip on Rainbow turning protective. “Are you done making fun of my dog? Because if not, I can teach her to attack.”
Axel actually snorted. “That thing’s running on a single brain cell, and it’s working part-time. Look at her! She’s licking the air like she thinks it tastes different over there. There’s no way she could be vicious. She probably barks at her own reflection and then apologizes.”
“Rainbow is … unique.”
“Rainbow?” Axel’s voice cracked. “You named that genetic disaster Rainbow? That’s like naming a dumpster fire Sir Sparkles McLightning.”
Rainbow chose that moment to let out a fart that could only be described as apocalyptic. The smell hit us all simultaneously.
“Jesus Christ!” Axel stumbled backward, covering his nose. “The dog is literally weaponized!”
Even Ryker’s composure cracked as he waved a hand in front of his face.
Rainbow, apparently proud of herself, wagged her tail so enthusiastically that her entire back end swayed like a drunk sailor. One of her ears flipped inside out. She didn’t seem to notice.
“Has she had her shots? All of them? Including experimental ones?”
Ryker finally spoke up, his voice warm with amusement. “Axel, enough about the dog.”
I locked eyes with Ryker in that moment. Was it weird that him sticking up for Rainbow had my hormones racing? Maybe. But did it change anything? Nope. He winked at me, and something in my chest did a little flip that had nothing to do with Rainbow’s toxic emissions.
When I set her down, Rainbow trotted along with her peculiar gait—three normal steps and one that looked like she was attempting the cha-cha. A minute later, she returned.
She promptly walked over to Axel’s feet and deposited the toy that had become her instant favorite—a mangled rubber chicken missing its head—right on his designer shoes.
The look of pure horror on his face was social-media-worthy.
Until a crash shattered my living room window.
Before my brain could process what happened, Ryker had me pinned against the floor, his body a shield between me and whatever just destroyed my window. Rainbow trembled next to us.
His eyes searched mine, intense and protective. “You hurt?”
I shook my head, unable to form words. His gaze traveled down my body anyway, checking for injuries until he seemed satisfied I was unharmed.
Only then did he ease back, though his hand lingered on my arm.
Blake stood by the shattered window, holding a brick wrapped in paper. His expression had gone dark.
“What does it say?” My voice came out steadier than expected.
Blake’s jaw worked as he read, “Next time, the brick won’t miss.”
“Well”—Axel brushed glass dust from his sleeve—“that escalated quickly. Still feeling brave about riding out the death threats at home?”
43
RYKER
I stormed into the city’s most overpriced steak house. The maître d’ tried to intercept me, but one look at my face sent him scurrying back to his podium.
