Hot Revenge Box Set 2

And I keep talking. “What a nice lot of boys and girls. All these doggies... What a lot of lovely doggies…” Nonsense words. Not meaning anything. Just a vehicle for a calm voice. Intended to soothe. Designed to disarm.

I keep speaking and the stranger brushes by, trying to introduce himself to Scruffy, ignoring me. As he comes close, I let my hand trail over his fur. “Blackie. What a nice boy. What a good boy Blackie is.”

His ears are pricking us, and he brushes by again, now exchanging sniffs with Emma. Archie grumbles low and Blackie cows, dropping to his stomach. Archie prances up, fur bristling, tail upright and Blackie whines then sits by me. His eyes softening by the moment, he pants heavily.

Still moving carefully, I take off my belt then make a loop of the end. Holding it loosely in my hand, I let it dangle, very casually, then trail the other hand over his fur. “What a nice boy. What a good boy Blackie is. Blackie’s far too nice to be nasty.”

He relaxes completely. And as I show him the belt, doesn’t react at all. Moving carefully, I loop it over his head and then slowly stand. “Heel.”

And he curves around behind me to stand by my right side.

“So,” says Klempner, from his spot a few yards away, “What now?”

“I just want to check something.”

He follows silently as, Blackie on his ‘lead’, I skirt the thicket he was sheltering in. “There…” I point. “See?”

“Pawprints?”

“Pawprints running both ways. Lots of them. He’s been dashing up and down trying to find someone. He’s been dumped. Some bastard’s just left him here and he’s been trying to find them. How does a dog understand that the people he loves would just abandon him?”

Klempner looks down at Blackie, his expression thoughtful.

*****

as we walk

Michael and Richard exchange looks. “I’m almost certain…”

back with six. Yes, I know. I couldn’t leave him. Someone’s dumped

a good-looking animal. You think

about a year old to me. He’s big, but he’s still a bit gangly. Not grown into his paws yet. He was probably thrown out to

voice hisses from the

reply. “There’s a special place in Hell for them. I

d’you want this lot?” asks Larry, wincing away from where a holly

to

marches through then without ceremony, dumps his load of holly on the tiles. Standing with his back to the fire, “Is there anything hot to drink?

up a whiskey bottle. “Coffee

“Perfect.”

*****

pulls up a chair. His earlier tension looks to have dissolved, replaced by

“Blowed if I know.”

the rug. Blackie circles a bit then sits close, leaning

“That was an interesting performance. You’ve done this before?

“Oh, yes.”

thick layer

their heads. You see it a lot with mistreated dogs. They’ve had their trust shattered. They don’t know who they can rely on. They certainly don’t understand why the people who should have loved them treated them

all authority and bluster. Blackie drops and

dominance and the pecking order. And democracy is a human

sip more of my coffee, more carefully this time. Caffeine and alcohol sizzle a trail down my throat and my earlobes begin to glow… “… When they’ve been mistreated, they're scared stupid and they don't know how to cope. So, they lash out at whoever's near. That’s how you create a really dangerous animal. But if you