Not sure how long I’ll foster Princess, but I want her to have the best of everything.
I consider the dog’s savior, Abby Blackburn, as I drive toward town.
I consider her not just the great veterinarian who helped Bubba and Princess but also a very intriguing, very attractive woman. If her beauty hadn’t caught my attention, her spitfire attitude sure would have. That she stood up to an armed man without so much as breaking a sweat was enough to grab my interest, but she’s also sexy as hell. Abby’s Rolling Stones T-shirt, Chucks, and eyebrow piercing? Yeah, pretty much sealed Princess’s fate in becoming my foster dog.
Oh, I probably would’ve done it anyway, because by the time Abby Blackburn had finished educating me on the horrors of Levi Hellman’s “breeding” business, I wasn’t going to let that dog go back. But had Princess not been in the equation, I was well on my way to a dinner date with Abby after she offered to watch Bubba. That was just a fortuitous way for me to see her again.
Now with Princess encamped at my house, which makes me Abby’s co-conspirator, I’m guaranteed to see more of her.
I’m not the slightest bit worried about breaking the law. As Abby said, if Hellman had proof she was involved, he would’ve brought the police. There’s no way Abby will give me up as the one holding the stolen property. Regardless, like Abby, I feel this is one instance where it’s worth the risk. She said Hellman has hundreds of dogs there, but I got the impression just taking one of his breeding females hurt him, and that felt good.
Following a mission, we’re always given a handful of days off, and I’m glad to find the strip mall relatively empty. I make a quick grocery run first to restock my fridge and pantry, and just as I’m about to cut through the parking lot to the Giant Eagle, flashing blue lights catch my eye.
In front of the pet store where I’ll be going next sits a police cruiser. An officer is talking to a woman and what looks like a store employee, possibly a manager as he’s wearing a tie and name tag.
Hoping whatever that is clears up by the time I grab my groceries, I start to move past.
Then I do a double take.
The woman standing next to the police cruiser is Abby Blackburn, and the cop is turning her around to handcuff her. That short, midnight-black hair first catches my attention, followed by her very nice ass clad in a pair of jean shorts frayed at the hem. She has on a pretty, flowered blouse that hangs off one shoulder and a pair of white sneakers. Abby looks like a gorgeous woman out for a pleasant day of summer shopping.
Except for the handcuffs now being snapped over her wrists.
“Fuck,” I mutter and pull quickly into the closest parking spot. I exit my car, lock it, and jog over to the sidewalk. As I approach, I call her name. “Abby… are you okay?”
Her head whips my way, as does the police officer’s, as he holds on to her elbow. She’s fully cuffed and looks pissed. But her voice is calm. “I’m fine.”
“What’s going on?” I ask, my eyes going to the cop.
“Ms. Blackburn—”
“Dr. Blackburn,” I correct him.
He blinks in confusion, but to my surprise, he politely corrects himself. “Dr. Blackburn. She’s trespassing and wouldn’t leave when asked. The store manager called us.”
The man—who looks smug and superior—smiles nastily at Abby. I look back at the cop as he seems a little perturbed to be here. “You couldn’t have just asked her to leave when you arrived? I mean, surely… that would be the less complicated thing to do.”
The officer sighs. “I would, if I could. But Dr. Blackburn actually has a restraining order against her from coming onto this property, and—”
I’m so stunned, my eyes snap to hers in question. She shrugs. “I thought the sidewalk was public space.”
“You know damn well it isn’t, and you’re a complete nuisance,” the manager yells. He’s an obnoxious-looking man with greasy skin and a walrus mustache.
“For standing on a sidewalk?” I ask, garnering the man’s attention. The cop remains silent, apparently at ease with seeing if we can talk this out and probably save him some paperwork.
The manager points to a piece of poster board on the ground. “With a defamatory sign. She wasn’t just standing there, she was protesting.”
It’s facedown, so I bend over and pick it up.
Boycott Pet World. They support the unethical breeding and murder of dogs.
Fuck. I’m going to assume this company buys from the puppy mills Abby’s trying to bring down.
I glance at her, and she lifts her chin defiantly. She’s apparently done this before, considering the restraining order, but that hasn’t stopped her from coming back.