Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 57707 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57707 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
When I follow my dog across town one night, I find Maya standing at her window with a treat and a smile. Immediately, I’m interested, but my life is too dangerous.
Then she walks into my dog sanctuary, Tristan’s Tails, looking for a job. I’m struggling to stay afloat as it is. I should tell her no, but I can’t.
Is it because she’s curvy, beautiful, young? I’m not a playboy. I’ve got a dark past and have had some terrible experiences. I shouldn’t let myself dream about her captivating eyes, gorgeous curves, or that warmth that fills me anytime I see her with the dogs. Soon, we’re doing more than just looking.
When Maya glimpses part of the Mafia world I inhabit, I know I have to cut things off. But can I?
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
PROLOGUE
TRISTAN
“This isn’t going to be easy,” I tell her, the most difficult words I’ve ever spoken.
“What isn’t?” Maya asks.
Reaching into my jacket pocket with one hand while still holding Loki in the other, I hand her an envelope. As she takes it, I do my best not to let our fingers touch. It’s taking every shred of effort not to forget about my plan and just grab her, kiss her, and taste her again. Go all the way this time.
“What is it?” she says.
“I’m sorry, Maya,” I say, not looking at her as I put Loki down. “I wanted to make this work, whatever it was. The truth is, with you, I’ve felt different. Good. Like maybe I could be a new man.”
“Good.” Her eyes glisten like she’s going to break down, making me feel like the biggest POS ever. “I feel the same, Tristan. With you, I can be somebody new.”
“Feel,” I go on, hating myself. “Present tense. The Mob came here, Maya. They could’ve done anything. They could have hurt you bad. You need to forget about me.”
Her voice cracks heartbreakingly. “Forget?”
I turn away. I can’t look at her any longer. It makes me think about everything that’s happened, everything that could happen between us. “Open the envelope when I’m gone. It’s the most I can do. I’ll send for the dogs.”
CHAPTER ONE
TRISTAN
One Week Earlier
We called him Loki when he first arrived because he was tricky when playing with the other dogs, but the name has fit ever since. Now, three months after the raggedy Jack Russell terrier first arrived, he’s as clever as ever. I watch from my office on the second floor, looking down on the open-air play area. Moonlight shafts down.
“Good visibility,” I imagine Wilson or O’Connor saying, but that’s all long ago.
Loki sneaks along the edge of the area, then slides between a gate and a hatch that must be ever so slightly loose, even if I can’t see it from here. Then he crawls up a diagonal pipe, slipping twice but whining and pushing himself forward.
Clever little fella. He must be no older than three. He’s got the muscles of a full-grown dog, but he’s impulsive, young, wanting to dart out and make his way in the world. Ha. Those were the days. Back when all I had to do was shave my head and push my limits hard every day. Oor-rah. I wouldn’t trade them. Still, I prefer my current life.
Despite the darkness. But what would my life be, really, without some darkness anyway? Would I even know who I was?
Loki reaches the top window, and then—he seriously is clever, especially for a terrier breed—he nudges open the latch and sneaks into the night. I grin, shaking my head ruefully. I’m not even worried about him. That’s not why I quickly turn for the door, ready to follow. I’ll be able to track him via the sensors, and if he leaves the property, I’ll have eyes on him.
It’s more that I’m interested. What is this crazy little dog up to?
Taking out my electronic pad, I watch as his movement flashes toward the north exit. I quickly jog down the stairs and then hop on my run-around-town motorbike. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s quiet, and it gets me from point A to point B. Propping the pad on the handlebars, I follow Loki through the city.
CHAPTER TWO
MAYA
“It makes no matter to me, Maya,” Mom says … well, croaks from bed. She’s been sounding weaker and weaker every day. I don’t even want to turn from the open window to look at her. It shatters me inside. Yet I want to scream at myself when I think stuff like that.
Oh, it shatters me. Oh, I’m the victim here. Pity me.
“He’ll come,” I tell her, unsure why I’m so confident. He hasn’t returned the last few nights. It’s always hit-or-miss. Anyway, it seems magical and strange. One evening, this random little dog showed up with Loki on his tag and the address of a dog home. The first time, I thought I’d have to take him back, but he just turned and disappeared into the night until he returned.
“I can hear him,” I whisper.
We’re on the ground-floor bedroom of our old house, in a row of old houses, the smell of the not-too-distant chemical plant trickling over to us. Sometimes, Loki whines as he approaches.
“I should cook more of that pie,” Mom mutters, but we both know she’s in no state to cook anything.
That was what drew him the first night two months ago when Mom could still move sometimes—the steak pie. Finally, the little doggy walks into the pool of light near the open window. He ducks his snout, cautious. He’s a careful, clever thing.
Reaching down, I offered him one of the treats I bought just in case he returned. “Here you go, boy.”