Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

TRISTAN

“ E asy, Tiger,” I say, patting the German Shepherd on the head. He’s got an almost feline look, mostly in his eyes and snout, but also his lighter-than-usual color. He grumbles but lets the arm pad go, then backs up for another round.

We’re in the Pit—the training grounds. Loki watches from beyond the mesh fence, the weaving so tight it doesn’t hurt their claws. He yaps as he leans up to look through the reinforced bars.

The Pit is on the slightly raised area of our piece of land. I can look down over my little paradise, so damn different from those burning black fields and those screams and my dog, my boy, the bleeding, and after, but none of it matters now.

I watch Winston, the Bulldog, sprawl out with a contented snore, his wrinkled face and sturdy build a funny contrast to his slumber. Luna, the Dachshund, stretches elegantly nearby, her slender body resembling a sunlit ribbon against the greenery of our faux grass. Max, the Golden Retriever, splashes playfully in our nearby “stream.” (A hose pipe coming out the wall is good enough for him.) His golden fur glistens in the sunlight as his wagging tail keeps time with the rhythmic splashes.

Meanwhile, Coco, the Poodle, reclines with regal grace under the shade of an “oak tree” (a large painting on the furthest wall, the shade coming from reused umbrellas).

I pick up the toy gun and then aim at the target. Tiger leaps into action and dives on my arm. Luckily, I’m padded up, but I can still feel his teeth trying to tear through the fabric. He’s a strong beastie. He grumbles when I say down .

From the edge of the pit, Tank walks up, as wide-shouldered as his name. He’s still wearing his hair in the Marine cut. Maybe he always will. He grins down at us. “Looks like you’ve got that monster trained.”

“Halfway there.”

He chuckles. “Thanks for helping with this.”

“It’s a sight to see. Ooh-rah while clocking overtime and dealing with cats stuck in trees.”

He laughs at my teasing. He knows I’m proud of him for joining the boys in blue. “So you think Tiger has what it takes?”

“He’s ferocious enough.”

“Good,” Tank nods.

“But that’s not the part that really matters.”

“No?”

“It’s being able to turn it off.”

Tank grins. “I don’t think we’re talking about canines anymore, T.”

“No, we are.”

When I remove the padded glove, I throw it quickly, letting Tiger dive on it and tear it to shreds. Leaving the cage, I pat Loki on the head as he wanders over.

“What’s he doing?” Tank asks, nodding to Loki.

I grin at the little guy. “He’s waiting for Tiger to destroy the pad. Then he’ll go and claim a piece.”

“He’s a determined fella, ain’t he?”

“The southern came out in you then,” I say with a chuckle.

“I’m a man of the world, I’ll have you know … ooh-rah.”

I grin, then turn when Loki lets out a yapping bark. When he darts past me, I let my gaze follow him, turning to find him pawing at the fence that separates the open-air area from the rest of the sanctuary.

“I didn’t know the sanctuary business paid so good,” Tank mutters.

“Huh?”

I’m barely listening, mostly just wondering why Loki’s suddenly decided to lose his mind.

“All this land. All these amenities …” Tank sighs. “It’s a lot, T.”

“It’s what these dogs deserve.”

“You must have some generous donors.”

I grit my teeth. We both know what he’s getting at. Tank isn’t usually the sort to pussyfoot about anything, but now he’s with the boys in blue. A cop. There are certain topics we flatly avoid, like the fact that I have a childhood friend named Raffie Trentini, as in the Trentini Mob family. I never know how to feel about Raffie if I should have a shred of pity for what fate threw at him or punch him in his face. Tank doesn’t have any of those problems. To him, Mob guys are Mob guys. That’s it. Cold. Simple.

“Holy fuck,” I whisper, my mouth actually falling open when I look across the open-air area and see her leaning down to stroke Loki.

“What? You know that girl?” Tank asks.

Now that it’s daytime and she’s closer, I can see the soft curve of her lips. Her eyes are wide and full of affection for Loki. Simone, one of our employees, loudly says in delight, “Do you two know each other?”

“T?” Tank says, laughing. “You’re ogling.”

“Ogling.”

I turn away, but I can still see her imprinted on my mind. She’s wearing black pants and a white shirt that emphasize her curves. It’s got me stirring in all kinds of ways. I never expected to see her here.

“I need to get this one back to the station,” Tank says, patting Tiger on the head. “Just … don’t do too much overtime yourself, okay?”

I shake my head at him. He knows I’m not going to say anything about my other line of work, the nighttime jobs, and the things I prefer not to think about.

The nightlife with Raffie isn’t glamorous, but it’s the means to an end that matters most to me. Every dollar I earn from those shady deals, every hush-hush transaction in dimly lit alleys, it’s all for them—the dogs. Those abandoned, mistreated souls that nobody wants. The ones with eyes that speak of abandonment and hearts that still yearn for love. They don’t care where the money comes from. They just need someone to care for them.

In my head, I hear Tank saying, “Are we just talking about the dogs here …”

A second later I forget all about Tank, my legs carrying me toward the woman and Loki. She looks up when I approach. Her face changes like a wall is falling. She’s still smiling, but her eyes narrow, like she’s judging me on some level.

“Tristan,” Simone says. “This is … I’m sorry, what was your name again?”

“Maya,” the woman says. Her name fits her to a T, Maya meaning “dream,” and she sure is a vision.

“She asked about jobs. I told her we’re not hiring, but I wondered if she wanted a look around.”

“We’re hiring,” I say automatically.

“We are?” Simone says.

“Uh, yeah.”

I shouldn’t be doing this. Tank wasn’t talking crap earlier when he hinted at all the ways I’m financially screwed. This place is outlandish—so much to pay for.

Simone looks over her shoulder when the bell rings, clearly keen to return to her desk.

“I can handle this,” I tell Simone.

“This ,” like she’s not a person or something. I wonder if I’ve offended her. I hope not.

Maya smiles down at Loki. “My house is at least seven miles from here, boy. What’re you thinking, huh?” She looks back up at me, that guarded expression returning. I don’t think she’s doing it on purpose. “This little one goes wandering if you didn’t know. He’s found his way to my house at least ten times now.”

“He’s the smartest terrier I’ve ever met.”

“Met—like he’s a person.”

She smiles. I can tell she likes that I’d think of him as a person. I think of how perfect she looked when Loki cuddled beside her last night.

“He might as well be one,” I say. “He’s so clever.”

She’s tried to shut that smile away, but it’s tugging at the corners of her mouth. I want to know more about her for some reason. Or maybe I’m overthinking it. Always have, with women. I’ve always had a reason to. If you happen to be born a man like me, you learn to accept when you are young that you’ll always be alone. There’s just something too stubborn in my head. Too critical. It’s taken me thirty-seven to realize that.

She could make a damn fine dog handler. Why not? That’s something different altogether. She is after all great with Loki.

“There isn’t really a job, is there?” she says. “It’s okay. You don’t have to humor me.”

I gesture at Winston, who’s wandered over, his face scrunched up as he drools and moves closer to Maya. What a beautiful name that is, too, Maya. “That’s his version of smiling.”

“Lucky me,” she says, but she strokes him anyway, slobber and all.

“I meant it. We’re hiring.”

She rolls her eyes at me, so sassy. “Don’t play me.”

“I’m not.”

“You’ve got enough staff. I can see that. You’ve probably got volunteers, too. I don’t need a handout. I need a place to keep my head down and work and get paid, and … and…” She’s getting flustered. There’s a strange part of me that almost steps forward and gently touches her shoulder as if I’ve slipped into a different damn reality, but I don’t. I just stand there. “I need to get to work. I’m going to be late.”

“I can give you a ride.”

This isn’t anything romantic. She’s a young woman who needs a helping hand, that’s all. It’s like when I give Simone a ride when her car is busted. Except I’ve never noticed how Simone’s shirt opens to reveal a hint of cleavage like I am with Maya.

“Really?” she says. “Why?”

I shrug. “Why not? I was going to head out for lunch anyway.”

“Uh, okay. Thanks. You’re not a serial killer, are you?”

I flash her a smile. “Not in the way you think.”

That smile is winning the fight over those kissable lips of hers. Hell, I can acknowledge that much, at least. She’s got lips I can very easily imagine myself kissing.

“What does that mean, huh?” she says, talking to Loki as she strokes him.

“Marine. Dog handler. A few tours.”

She looks up. “Are you bragging?”

“Listing my credentials, ma’am.”

We’re both half-smiling, and I can’t tell if this is tension or something else. I shouldn’t even want to tell. After last time, I shouldn’t keep thinking about all that crap. Then again, I’m not sure what sort of psycho I’d have to be not to think about it from time to time.

“That’s cool, really,” she says. “Also, well, I hate to say this. I love Loki’s visits, but isn’t it far for him?”

I shrug. “He finds his way, but you’re right. I know how he’s been doing it now, anyway.”

“How?”

“I thought you were in a rush.”

She looks at the floor and then seems to summon her courage. There’s this daring glint in her eyes as they meet mine. If I were a different man, I might let myself admire that glint, even obsess over it. I might go insane over it. I might lose my mind and start thinking a bunch of unrealistic things.

“And I thought you were giving me a ride.”

I couldn’t stop myself from laughing if I wanted to. Opening the gate, I tell Loki, “Stay, boy.”

He whines but sits his butt down and watches as I walk Maya out toward the exit.

“You don’t have to do this,” she says.

“I do,” I reply as we walk across the lot.

I wonder how she’d react if I told her I was watching her last night or if I told her where I went after, what I did, and who I did it for. I don’t have to think about any of that nasty crap as I open the passenger-side door of my old GT.

“Nice wheels.”

“Most people tell me it’s time I got an upgrade.”

Maya shakes her head. “I’m just happy for the ride. Thank you.”

When she climbs in, she brushes by me. It’s not crazily close, but enough for me to get a whiff of perfume, or maybe it’s just her shampoo or just her —just her smell. Suddenly, I want to press my face against her neck, kiss, taste her.

I quickly close the door. My manhood tingling from that tiny interaction. That’s not good. I don’t want to get a hard-on in front of her. Trying to get my head in gear, I climb inside the driver’s seat.

“Type in the address,” I say, nodding to the center console. My car may be old but I’ve given it some modern features.

She quickly does as told, then sits back with her hands folded. I get the sense she thinks I’m going to pounce on her. Or maybe that’s just me projecting what I want to do, this deep hunger in me. It’s a primal thing like killing. It’s something I can ignore.

Okay, so I find this woman damn fine. She’s attractive as hell. She’s sassy and hot, and it’ll stay that way—a few observations in my mind. There’s no use pushing it too far.

“How long is your shift today?” I ask, thinking of the sick person back home. Her mom? Her sister?

“Just nine hours,” she replies.

“Just,” I mutter, almost laughing, but I don’t want to offend her. I think about not offending her far more than I ever have with any other person.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

I nod. “But you’re looking for a new start?”

“No, another job.”

My hands automatically tighten on the steering wheel. Otherwise, I don’t give anything else away, or so I hope. I don’t like the idea of Maya working two jobs. It’s none of my business, but I still don’t like it.

“With flexible hours, ideally,” she sighs, reaching into her pocket.

“What’s that?” I say, glancing at the big red letters at the top. “Rafeal’s Red Room.” My stomach twists. Raffie. His strip joint. What business does a woman like Maya—a good person, beautiful, innocent —have being at a place like that? The idea of other men ogling her curves, dammit, it’s making me wild.

“The guy at this call center place gave it to me. He thinks I could be a model. Ha, ha. It’s clearly a strip joint.”

“Throw it in the trash, then.”

I’m on the edge of doing it for her. As I follow the directions on the screen, I almost snatch the flyer out of her hand and toss it right in the trash. Is she trying to make me nuts? But that doesn’t make any damn sense. She’s not trying to make me anything, no more than I should be trying to make her anything.

“He was sort of mocking me,” she says with a tired sigh. “Kind of implying that I’m too … well, ugly, I guess.”

“You’re not ugly,” I say a little too loudly. Angry someone would be blind to the beauty before them.

It’s the most I can say. I can feel myself getting drawn in, starting to care, when I know good and well I shouldn’t get involved.

“Did he say anything bad about you?” I ask.

She looks at me sharply. I’m glad I’ve got the road to focus on. Maybe there was something in my tone that gave my true feelings away. “No. It wouldn’t matter anyway. The world’s full of jerks.”

I pull up outside her restaurant. “Whoa, that was fast. I guess it’ll feel that way, though, right, when you’re used to buses?”

“Did you leave your resumé with Simone?” I ask.

She flashes that sassy look again. The tip of my cock twitches. My balls feel like they’re flooding, honestly. I want to peel down her shirt just an inch, just enough to show the perfection of her body, her plump breasts, her …

Her what?

“Yeah. Well, maybe I’ll hear from you,” she says with a clear sense of irony. “Tell Loki he’s always welcome. Bye.”

She leaves before I can reply. I watch her walk away. Her black pants cling tightly to her wide hips, emphasizing her shape. My fingers twitch. Dammit. It’d be so good to sink my hands into her hips, to let my touch disappear into her fullness.

On the ride back, I remember what she said. The guy at the call center … I know where she means. It’s a front for the Trentinis. I park up outside, deciding to pay a visit. I don’t let myself think about the blood pumping fiercely through my veins, the rage pulsing in me, too, thinking about her stripping.

Maya, on a stage, too-bright lights shining on her.

Guido sits up when I walk in. His sleazeball smirk vanishes when he sees me. “Tristan? The fuck you doing here?”

“This place only works if it’s legit,” I growl.

He leans back, raising his hands. “Whoa, who said it’s not legit?”

“You’re redirecting possible employees to Raffie’s club,” I snap, slamming my fist on the desk.

Guido’s staring at me wide-eyed, with the fear I’ve seen many times before. It doesn’t make me proud, but knowing I can inspire that in men is good. It’s good to know I have that level of respect. It’s the only thing that allows me to pick my own path in this fucked-up world.

“I’m doing my job,” he says, but an unmistakable air of caution surrounds him. It’s like he’s suddenly found himself locked in a cage with a big cat. “I’m not trying to steal your business.”

“That would be foolish, but why do you have to send girls there?”

I sit down, adjusting my tone, taking on an “ I want to understand” attitude. I can’t let him see how badly I want to smack him across the face for trying to turn young women into strippers. That’s mainly because I can’t let myself think about it too deeply. It’s not her. It’s not Maya making my heart beat so hard with so much purpose.

“Just … to make money. What else? I didn’t mean to …”

He falls short of words, which isn’t unusual when I’m questioning some punk, but Guido isn’t just some punk . My ties with Raffie buy me some small favor—or maybe it’s just tolerance—and I’ve proven myself more than once, but I shouldn’t push it. It’s not like Maya is going to do that kind of work. If she did, with all those eyes on her …“Just get your shit together.”

Turning, I storm out of the small office, my hands opening and closing into fists as though they’ve got minds of their own. I need to relax. Nothing has happened, not really.

Back at work, I walk into the open-air area and scratch Loki on top of his head. He’s all over me, sniffing like crazy.

“Why did you go all the way across the city for her, boy?”

He opens his mouth, letting his tongue hang, keeping his secrets from me. It makes no sense that he’d go so far out of his way, but maybe I’m jumping to conclusions. Perhaps he stopped at several houses, and hers was only one along the way —the only one that matters .

“Come on,” I say, giving Loki a nudge. “I’m sure there’s some crap to clean up.”

As I do my work, Simone calls over, “What should I do with this?”

I look up to find her holding the resumé. I almost tell her to toss it in the trash. Simone was telling the truth when she said we weren’t hiring. That hasn’t magically changed in the last thirty minutes, but I can’t bring myself to do it.

“Leave it on my desk for now.”

Simone leaves, and I try not to think about Maya in a strip club. My mind shifts. Maya is stripping, but it’s a solo show. She sways her hips slowly and temptingly from side to side for me, stroking herself from her hips to her breasts and back again. She sinks her hands into her tits, emphasizing her voluptuousness.

I push the thought away or try to. Damn, she’s hot.