Page 6 of Bloody Quarter

Greyson

“Easy, girls,” I said as the dogs ran at me, skidding to a halt and then sitting down. Their tails wagged while some of the younger pups whined and yipped. I’d always had a dog and loved pit bulls, but when I realized that I could make big money as a breeder—and the dogs wouldn’t be used for fighting—I was all in on the Belgian Malinois.

“What is all the racket about?” Rodney stomped down from the upstairs apartment to the nursery area. Rodney had been my live-in manager for over three years now, and keeping an eye on our pregnant girls or those that had just pupped was his top priority. He was also one hell of a dog trainer. I’d say the best in the biz. He helped me earn top dollar on every single dog sold to the police or the military. I wasn’t only an entrepreneur. I had a vision, and that vision was to give the middle finger to law enforcement everywhere while I killed right under their nose. Why? Why the fuck not? It was fun.

“Hey man, it’s just me,” I called out, walking through the dogs as I headed to the freezer with the cooler.

“Do you ever fucking sleep? What the hell time is it anyway?” Rodney yawned as he followed me into the walk-in.

“It’s almost five. You know me, when I get a call that there is a deal on some good meat, I’m gonna take it with all of these hungry mouths kicking around. I have five more coolers out in the car. Can you help me bring them in?”

“Unbelievable. You wake me up two hours before my alarm, and then you put me to work,” Rodney grumbled as he walked out.

Only one of the coolers had Giles’s remains. The rest were beef and turkey. Rodney didn’t know about my extracurricular activities. Right from day one, I made it known that I was extremely picky about what I fed my dogs, so I set the expectation that I would be the only one to pick up their food. I then spent the time grinding it together and dividing it into meals. The frozen mixture was thawed out daily and added to fresh vegetables and fruit for my precious fur babies over the next month. So sad that Giles’s final resting place was a shitty one. I smirked at my joke as I prepped the meat grinder.

“Are you really gonna start that now?” Rodney dropped the heavy cooler onto the counter.

“No better time than the present. Gotta make hay while the sun shines. Isn’t that what you farmers like to say?” Rodney had spent his entire life on a cattle farm until he came to work for me. I had more land at my house, but the fifty-acre training facility did the job that I needed it to for the dogs, and it was closer to town. “Go get your coffee. You’re no good to me when you’re miserable like this,” I said once the last of the meat had been brought inside.

“Yeah, yeah.”

When I first bought this spot, it was nothing but bare land. Since then, I’d added a state-of-the-art kennel, a breeding and pupping house, an indoor and outdoor training area, and ten acres of fenced land for the dogs to run and play. And, of course, I had to include the best security money could buy.

“Are Jax and Blue ready for the demonstration tomorrow,” I asked as Rodney walked into the packaging area and plopped down on a stool.

“Here, I grabbed you a coffee, and of course, they’re ready. I’m always ready.”

“Thanks, man.” I smiled, taking a sip of the hot brew. “Good. I’m hoping to get top dollar for them.”

“You will. They might be two of the best dogs we’ve ever produced. Ruby, Daisy, and Star are producing the best puppies for military use. Blue is already passing all the bomb sniff tests with ease.”

“Excellent. I’m looking forward to the demonstration.” Starting the meat grinder, I dropped in the first pile of Giles. “Turn on the music, will ya?” I smiled and hummed as I worked. Today was going to be a great day. I could feel it.

Greyson

The stars were aligning in my favor. Not only had Blue and Jax been sold for the most I’d ever sold a dog, but I was going to be signing a contract for twelve dogs a year with the army. They were offering a massive amount of money to get first pick. That was an easy number for us to fill. It just meant less sold to the general public.

“Fuck, that group won’t take no for an answer,” Lennox grumbled, his face showing what he thought of the girls he’d been serving the last hour and the attention they were lavishing on him.

“Are they tipping well?” I shook the martini I was making.

“If you call smacking my ass and wanting selfies, tips, then yes. Otherwise, no. Fucking handsy bitches. I don’t know how you handle it with a smile all the time, man. Seriously, I want to rip their hands off their bodies.”

With a sly smile, I looked at my best friend. “I do,” I said, and he barked out a laugh.

“Good call. Maybe I should start burning their hands off. That would stop this bullshit.”

My nose crinkled at the thought of all that burnt flesh. “No thanks. I’ll stick to my method.”

“Hey, sexy,” one of the girls yelled and held up her empty glass, jingling the lone ice cube shaped like a skull. “I’m hot and thirsty over here.”

“Fuck my life,” Lennox said before turning around and walking to the girl. I glanced over my shoulder and snorted at the way she draped herself over the bar, her tits practically falling out of her low-cut top. She was licking her lips as Lennox leaned in to hear her order. With a single glance, I had her pegged. She was the typical, bored soccer mom. The ring on her finger said she was still married but unhappily or at least not getting any dick and was desperate for some attention. She wanted to feel like she hadn’t thrown her youth away to a man who didn’t give a fuck about her and the demon semen that sucked up all of her time. She was out on the prowl for someone, anyone, to clean out her dusty pussy with their cock. Lennox oozed sex appeal even if he hated the attention. It was funny. The harder she tried, the more uninterested Lennox became. I’d fuck her, but there was a good chance I’d kill her, and my quota for at least the next week was already fulfilled with Giles.

I wasn’t exactly a fan of the constant flirting myself, but I used my all-American, sexy looks and charm for the greater good. I’d been basking in the glow of attention from the time I first learned to throw a football. Being a star quarterback gets you all the girls, freebies, and spotlight you could ever want. I had more doors opened and opportunities given than anyone else. At the end of the day, I didn’t give a fuck one way or the other what anyone thought of me. It was all an act. The smile of an upstanding citizen of the city allowed me to hide who I really was in plain sight.

No one looked past the free shot I handed them with a wink. My jersey hung in the bar, and my accolades were on display in every corner to remind people who I was. It would fade, and then I’d have to come up with a new way to draw people in, but that was the nature of any business. Lennox worked his ass off, but I was the marketing guy, and since we took over for my parents, the bar had tripled in sales in a few short years.

“Here you go,” I said to the blonde who had ordered the dirty martini. “Just the way you like it, shaken, not stirred, extra dirty with three olives.” I smiled, and the girl lit up like fireworks on the Fourth of July.