Page 102 of Forget That Guy
I’d never had the need to give it much thought before now.
“How was it started?” a man asked.
I looked over to see a badass with a great beard and a bald head standing there, looking at the building.
“Called Boone to review his cameras,” Denver said. “I don’t know yet.”
Sirens wailed in the distance, and I breathed out a sigh of relief when I saw a fire engine pull up and a couple of men spill out.
All with familiar faces.
That’s when I was reminded…
“Denver!”
Denver’s head snapped back to meet my gaze. “What?”
“He was here!” I looked around, coughing at the force of which I’d said that. “The man from the dog fighting ring.”
He frowned and looked around. “None of my guys are here…”
I was looking around myself, but didn’t see the man.
I described him instead, and Denver’s frown grew fiercer. “He had a tattoo right here…”
I described the tattoo on the man’s neck to Denver and his scary looking friend who seemed to hang on my every word.
“I don’t have any brothers under me that have a tattoo on their neck like that. Hux has a lot of tattoos, but…”
“It wasn’t Hux,” I declared. “I’ve never seen this man before in my life. And today he wasn’t wearing his cut. He was the man that was holding me when you got here.”
“I thought that was a good Samaritan.” He frowned.
“Give me a second.” The older man stepped away from us.
Denver pulled me back into his arms, baby raccoons and all, and said, “I’m sorry, baby.”
The firefighters rushed us out of the area, but I ignored them and went back inside the front way to the vet’s office.
The next thirty minutes was spent moving animals around and hooking them back up to their support.
By the time Boone arrived looking flustered I mostly had it covered.
He helped with the last patient and then looked at the damage to the kennels and recovery wing through the large plate-glass window that was installed just a few days ago.
“Guess we’re going to have to redo that one next,” he muttered. “I wonder if it was faulty wiring? That place is over a hundred years old. I bought it from the old vet, and he’d bought it from the old vet before him.”
“Not faulty wiring.” Denver came in with the older man again. A man whom I realized was Sawyer’s husband, the national club president for the Dixie Wardens. “There was a gas trail that led to the woods. It was deliberately set.”
“My god,” Young breathed. “He could’ve killed all the animals if Holly wasn’t there!”
Denver’s eyes came to me. “I know.”
Boone sighed and scrubbed his hand through his already messy hair. “Were y’all able to find anything in the cameras?”
“Yep,” he said. “Look at this.”
Boone and I leaned in.
