Page 97 of Vetted for Vengeance
“This isn't work I can do during office hours,” he informs me bluntly.
I get it. I even make the highly obvious ‘oh’ sound. He's looking into my attacker. He's looking into the debt.
“Check if he has a good dental plan,” I chuckle. No one can take getting booped in the face with a brick and not lose a few teeth.
“He's not my problem,” Rhys mutters. “The police have him now. I'm sure their dental care is top-rate.”
“Then who are you stalking for me?”
“For you?” He chuckles. “I'm doing this for me.”
“You’re going to take him apart for you, but you've chosen him for me.”
Rhys doesn't look at me; instead, his eyes flick to the door.
“I mean it, you don't need to be here. I'll be fine. Just make up a whole jug of milk and find me one more puppy.”
“One more?” He frowns, suddenly giving me all his attention.
“Thirteen pups. Honey's twelve plus Bobo. That's unlucky. Unlucky thirteen. Either we get one more, or one is going to die. I don't want Bunny to die.”
He smiles. It's not humoring me over my superstitions.
He's smiling over my fondness for the tiny little runt I originally dismissed.
“I'll feed them. That will take a few hours, and then I'll go to sleep with Honey curled up on the sofa with me.” I give him a smile of my own as he places his laptop on the coffee table. “I hope you don't mind dogs on the sofa.”
He just looks at me. Unreadable.
I can read that as dangerous. Powerful. My predator.
He walks out, leaving me alone with my menagerie of twelve-plus-one puppies, and a dog.
Ten minutes later he returns with a mug of tea and a jug of puppy milk.
I expect him to sit back down, but instead he kisses the top of my head and then leaves the room.
The room feels too large the instant he leaves.
I almost call him back.
Instead, I sit up and fill the first bottle, offering it to Bunny.
He instinctively starts sucking. His little tongue darting back and forever. His feet kneading against the blanket. This is who I am. Tonight, that's enough.
Chapter forty-five
Rhys
Mr. Peter Whittle.
The man looking back at me from his smug Facebook profile.
The man who was leaning on the car bonnet.
“You are making it too easy for me, my friend.”
The brothers owed money to Whittle, who sent his nameless thug to shake Noah down.
