Page 72 of Fallen Creed

Again, Maggie wanted to shut down Alonzo’s attempt at humor. Then she understood the point he was making.

“They must have gotten thirsty,” she said, “while they waited for her shift to be over.”

—56—

Interstate 70

This gas station was bigger and busier than any of the others, and immediately Brodie felt her entire body go into alert mode. She enjoyed watching people from the safety of Jason’s Jeep, but she had to pee.

She’d need to wait for Jason to come back. He’d already pumped the gas but went inside to buy her a phone, despite her telling him she didn’t need one. “When we start looking for Ryder and Grace, we’ll need to communicate with each other,” he’d told her.

“I won’t wander off,” she promised.

“I don’t expect you to wander off. Look Brodie, if we’re working as partners, we have to stay in touch even if we get separated.”

She was used to all of them being overprotective of her. It became instinct for her to bristle at their attempts, but she realized Jason had a good point. Plus, she liked that he said they were partners.

“Do you really think Ryder got lost?” she’d asked him just before he left for the convenience store.

“No.” He hadn’t taken time to consider his answer.

“But if he’s not lost—”

She didn’t finish, and Jason let her question drop. All he said was, “We’ll find him. And Grace.”

An old man with feathery gray hair parked his SUV at the pumps in front of them. He’d backed in so close there was little room between the bumpers. And his vehicle was so close to the pumps that he practically had to squeeze out of his door. He limped, holding onto the side of the SUV as he pumped the gas.

The place was crazy busy. She hoped Jason would be back soon so she could pee and they could leave.

That’s when she noticed Hank panting. He was watching the chaos, too, his head wagging side to side, ducking and stretching to follow certain customers. Hank didn’t trust too many people, either. Brodie figured they were both works in progress.

But now she realized he might still be thirsty. They had taken both dogs for a short walk along a sad patch of grass at the far end of the gas station lot. Jason suggested leaving them out of their crates to stretch and cool off. The air was warm and muggy, and Brodie couldn’t imagine a snowstorm going on less than 500 miles away.

“Hang on,” she told Hank and Scout. “I’ll get you two some more water.”

She reached under her seat for a bottle of water, careful not to disturb Kitten. He’d curled up into a soft sweatshirt she’d placed on the floorboard between her feet.

Instead of turning around in her seat, she decided it was easier to get out and open the door to fill their water bowl. She couldn’t reach it from the passenger side, so she went around and opened the other back door. She’d barely tucked herself inside the door well when Hank began to growl.

Brodie glanced up to see the old man climbing back into his vehicle, but that wasn’t what agitated Hank. His head twisted to look out the back of their Jeep. Brodie didn’t notice the man with the gray hooded sweatshirt until he rounded the Jeep’s back bumper.

“Get out of my way, bitch,” he muttered, shoving her to get to the old man’s SUV.

Her forehead bounced off the top of the door well, and she grabbed hold of the driver’s seat headrest to keep from losing her balance. The rest was a blur. As soon as the guy pushed Brodie, Hank was on his feet.

The intruder grabbed the door handle to the SUV, banging the door open against the pumps. The old man let out a startled yelp just as he was being dragged out from his seat.

Before Brodie could react, Hank jumped out. In seconds he plowed into the car thief, and the man went down. Hard. Knees and elbows hit the pavement, only to be flattened when Hank’s front paws came to rest on the small of the man’s back.

The old man had tumbled out but leaned against the gas pumps to stop from falling. Blood dripped down his temple. That’s when Brodie touched her forehead. Bruised. No blood.

Others had come to see the ruckus, but no one attempted to help. Brodie made Scout stay as she grabbed a towel and the water bottle, then closed the door.

“What the hell’s going on?” Jason yelled, racing around the vehicles. “Oh, my God. What happened? Brodie, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she told him as she handed the old man the towel she had dampened. Her heart pounded. Her pulse raced, and her eyes never left the man squirming underneath Hank’s weight.

“Get this frickin’ dog off of me,” the guy screamed.