Page 49 of Last Call at the Doghouse

Sonny took her in his arms again, and this time he was tender. This time he cared for her as he should.

“You surprise me, Mary Harlow.”

“Aren’t you glad you didn’t kill me?”

He hesitated, then answered, “I suppose I am.”

The kiss was deep and wonderful, and she needed it. Sonny let her go, took a few steps back, and smiled. “Close your eyes.”

She did. This had happened before. She knew what was coming; feared and at the same time craved it.

Sonny crossed the room and opened a window. She heard the creak of the old window and felt the cool air rush in. In moments, she heard the fluttering of wings large and small, the movement of air as it was disrupted.

The birds undressed her with beaks and talons without leaving a scratch, and then their wings began to sweep over her, caressing her skin, rousing sensations she’d never even imagined. She wanted to open her eyes but did not. With her eyes closed there was nothing but sensation, wonder, and love.

The same magic that could bring horrific death also brought pleasure.

Mary’s eyes remained tightly closed. Sonny had told her not to look when he did this to her, and she always, always did what Sonny told her to do.

* * *

Mitch raced toward Mystic Springs in the dark, his truck practically flying down two-lane deserted roads. Armi understood the urgency, but she doubted they’d arrive and find Sonny standing in the middle of Main Street, poised for a showdown, holding a red book instead of a six-shooter. She gripped the passenger side door handle, uncomfortable with the speed, while at the same time looking out the window now and then for… birds. Night birds this time. Owls, maybe. What else might be out there?

Anything and everything.

“We could’ve waited until morning,” she said as he took a turn far too sharply.

“I’m not waiting.”

“I’m not sure what you expect…”

“We’ll find a way,” Mitch said, sounding determined. “I had it all wrong, your aunt had it all wrong, we all…” He took a deep breath and let it out. “We have three days to make this work.”

Armi didn’t know what he was talking about, but she knew it was going to be bad. She’d never been entirely without instinct. She should ask for more detail, but she didn’t want to know. Mary was still on her mind.

Why did it seem that every time something really good happened it was followed by something really bad? Okay, maybe not always, maybe not immediately, but life—her life anyway, maybe all lives—was a series of ups and downs.

Mitch certainly qualified as up. She hadn’t been looking for a man—had actually been avoiding them—but here he was. The sex was great, but it was more than that. He was a partner to her in a way Andrew had never been. There was a connection, a bond that had developed much too fast.

Was it real? Would any of this be happening if not for the danger they faced? He said he was a watchdog; a servant. She didn’t want a servant.

She wanted a partner. At this moment, she felt as if she had one for the first time in her life.

Without warning, Armi felt as if someone had kicked her in the stomach, as if a vise tightened around her heart. She couldn’t breathe. She was so lightheaded she thought she might faint.

And then she screamed.

Mitch pulled the truck sharply to the grassy shoulder, put it in park, and reached for her. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” The words were soft, uncertain, and touched with fear. “I can’t… I can’t…” And then, in a way she couldn’t entirely explain, she did know. “Oh hell, the book. The book is gone.”

Mitch tried to console her. “I know. We’ll get it back, I…”

“No, no, it isn’t missing, it’s gone. It no longer exists.” She looked at Mitch, in the dark with only the light from the dashboard for illumination. He cared about her; she saw that much. He was afraid for her. “This is bad,” she whispered. That was the understatement of the year.

Mitch nodded, kissed her, then pulled back onto the road to resume their trip.

He drove even faster than he had before.