Page 73 of Fallen Creed

He looked small, especially with the hood of his sweatshirt now tumbled off and exposing his face.

“What’s going on here?” A man in a uniform weaved his way between the onlookers and the vehicles.

“A pit bull attacked someone,” a woman said from the group of bystanders.

“No, no.” The old man shook his head and waved his hands. “This guy yanked me out and tried to steal my car. The dog stopped him. This dog saved me.” He looked at Brodie with glassy eyes, still shocked by what had happened. “Is that your dog?”

Brodie thought it was pretty obvious. Even as Hank pressed his full seventy-five pounds down on the man’s back, he was looking up at her, waiting for her signal. And she swore he was smiling.

—57—

“He made the mistake of shoving me,” Brodie told Jason later when they were back on the road. “When he tried to sneak past.”

“We haven’t trained him to do that,” Jason said.

“Protective instinct.”

Jason nodded. They both knew Hank had taken a bullet meant for his first owner. He hadn’t been able to save John Lockett, but the dog almost died trying.

“I’m glad he didn’t try to take the Jeep,” Jason said. “Why did you get out?”

Brodie hadn’t considered that the guy could have easily opened the Jeep’s door and climbed into the driver’s seat. Jason had left it running to keep her and the dogs cool. She hadn’t bothered to lock the doors when he left to go inside the store.

She studied his face, looking for disappointment or anger. She saw neither. Expecting punishment was still one of her instinctive reactions.

“Hank was unsettled and panting,” she tried to explain. “I was getting him a drink of water. I didn’t want to climb over the console.” Although she’d climbed over it before on other stops. Did it sound like a lame excuse?

Brodie promised herself to be more careful, more aware. But she didn’t say it out loud.

She couldn’t be more proud of Hank. Ryder had offered her first choice of any dog in their kennel. She had chosen Hank because he looked sad and handsome and ferocious all at the same time. And he enjoyed it when she read to him. He cocked his head when she did different voices for each of the fictional characters, so lately she read novels that were dialogue heavy. He seemed to like rom-coms the best.

“How’s your head?” Jason asked.

She’d already forgotten about it. Her fingers skimmed over the area. It hurt, but she said, “It’s okay.” She had worse.

“Did he scare you?”

She hadn’t given the car thief much consideration. She hadn’t even seen his face.

“I didn’t have time to be scared. It happened so fast.”

“Next time—and I’m not saying there will be a next time—but don’t hesitate to use your bear spray,” he told her.

When they were ready to leave the hotel, Jason noticed that Brodie attached the holster to her waistband. By now, it was a habit, a part of her daily ritual when she got dressed for the day. She hadn’t needed to use it yet, but just having the canister close gave her a sense of security. She didn’t need bear spray as long as she had Hank.

“Hank isn’t in trouble, is he?” she asked, only now realizing that might be a part of what the officer wanted to talk to Jason about.

“No, he’s not.”

“That woman thought Hank attacked the guy.”

“People think all bully terriers are aggressive and have violent tendencies.”

Brodie turned and glanced at Hank. Back in his crate, she could see his big chest rising and falling. She could hear the low, familiar hum of his snoring.

“Let’s talk about something else,” Jason suggested. “Are you hungry?”

Brodie laughed.