Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 16498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 82(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 16498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 82(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
CHAPTER
NINE
BRENDAN
My brothers would have a goddamn field day if they could see me dressing up fucking dogs. “Look at these matching outfits.” My wife practically skips into the living room holding up a blue and green plaid dog dress in one hand and a matching dog shirt in the other. If dogs could roll their eyes, that’s what these two would do every time Hunter pulls out another fucking outfit. Between doggie spa days and clothes, I’m spending a small fortune on the damn animals.
“These two little shits have more clothes than I do.” I laugh, only half-joking.
My wife walks over and sits in my lap, wrapping her soft arm around my neck. “I hope I’m not going overboard.” Her plump bottom lip wobbles, causing my heart to clench in my chest.
“Never.” I kiss the side of her neck and feel her soft curves melt against my body. “The dogs love dressing up,” I lie for the little fuckers. I’d do just about anything to make my wife happy.
After dinner, I’m checking emails when my wife’s scream blasts through the house. On autopilot, I grab my gun from my desk drawer and race to protect her. I throw open the kitchen door and race in to find her sitting up on the breakfast bar, pointing at the pantry. “Bandit has it in there!” she screeches.
“What?” I point the gun at the door and walk over to peer into the pantry. Motherfucker. Why couldn’t we get normal dogs? I think as I watch the large puppy play with an ugly fucking rat. Rat! “Bandit!” I roar and watch as the fucking dog picks up its prize and lopes over to bring it to me.
When he drops the poor creature at my feet, I see it’s still alive. A little traumatized but still breathing. I nudge the rat with my boot and watch it look around the kitchen. Fuck. I reach for the first thing I can find—an empty bucket hanging on the wall of tools—and turn it upside down on top of the animal. “What are you going to do with it?” My wife walks up and glances around me.
“You take the two hunter-killers in the living room and I’ll deal with the rat.” I kiss her nose.
Determination flashes through my wife’s eyes as she slaps her hands down on her hips. Motherfucker. We might be newlyweds, but I can already tell when I’m not going to like what she wants. Of course, my pussy-whipped ass caves every goddamn time. I guess it’s Karma’s revenge for all the times I made fun of my brothers. “You can’t kill the poor little guy.” Fuck me with a wooden spoon. “It’s not his fault that Bandit wanted to play.” She pulls the wobbly lip thing that turns me into a moron, and I cave.
“What do you want me to do with it?” I sigh, reminding myself, “Happy wife, happy life.”
“We have to take him somewhere safe and let him go,” Hunter insists.
“Oh, hell no.” I put down my foot. “It will just end up back in the house.”
“Not if we take it to the park miles away and release it.” She pulls out the big guns and wraps her arms around my waist while staring up into my eyes pleadingly. “Please.”
“Fuck me.”
“I will make it worth your while.” My wife wiggles her eyebrows. “If you take Ronnie the Rat out somewhere nice to let him go.”
What in the hell would a rat consider “nice?” I can’t say no to Hunter. After searching the storage area for a box that will contain Ronnie, Bandit’s victim, I carefully scoot the terrified animal into the cardboard box and tape it shut.
“We need to put air holes,” Hunter reminds me, and I pull out my pocketknife to cut a few small slits in the cardboard.
After loading the box in the back of my truck, I dial Marco’s number. “I need your help disposing of a problem,” I tell him. “I’ll pick you up in five minutes.” Hunter’s uncle and I have become friends over the last few weeks, but this situation might strain the bonds of our friendship.
Marco doesn’t argue. When I pull up in front of his house, he rushes over to the truck. “What’s going on?”
“Your niece rescued Ronnie the Rat, and we have to find someplace to dispose of him.” I shrug nonchalantly.
“Ronnie the Rat?” I think I managed to stun the mob boss. “Who the fuck is Ronnie the Rat?”
“The poor animal that Bandit caught in the backyard,” I tell him and glance over. I almost laugh at the shocked look on his face. I see the red stain marring his cheeks in the darkened truck and figure I’d better keep my humor to myself.
“You mean,” he stops talking and takes a deep breath, “you interrupted my important business meeting so I can help you kill a goddamn rat?” Then he glances around the truck cab and shouts, “A real goddamn four-legged creature!”