3. Sadie, Get Your Gun
sadie, get your gun
. . .
Sadie
Sadie’s Guide to Hostage-Taking, Tip #3: Always have a plan. Multiple plans, if you can. But in the event of an impromptu hostage-taking, improvisation is your friend.
The police were at the shelter within the hour, but they claimed there was nothing they could do.
Again .
They advised us to put up missing dog signs, post online, and check other shelters in the area. When Officer Jake Murdock offered to take me out to dinner so we could discuss strategies to find Bear, I almost socked him in his pretty little face. He spent more time flirting with me than he ever did helping.
All I cared about was getting Bear back.
Luckily, I knew exactly who’d taken him, and they would pay.
The only problem was I had no idea how to find them.
Keeping a skeleton staff on-site, the rest of the volunteers and I took to the streets. We were each armed with a roll of tape and a stack of Missing Dog flyers that showcased Bear’s adorable snout. Mr. Sanders assigned us each different sections of the neighborhood, and I drove my car about ten blocks away.
After hitting a few of the small shops, I marched up to my favorite ice cream parlor. The Sprinkled Scoop’s familiar yellow door was heavy, and I squeezed inside before seeing the owner—Bruno—was already helping two customers at the register.
Shivering from the cool air, I pulled on the hem of my short pink overalls and debated waiting outside in the summer heat. But I sucked it up and got in line behind them with my stack of flyers.
My gaze drifted over the glass display while I waited, checking for any new flavors since yesterday.
“You sell ice cream. What could you possibly need more room for?” one customer asked Bruno, and the casual note of command in his voice had goose bumps popping up along my arms. Or maybe it was the air-conditioning? I peeked at the stranger from under my lashes. He wore a nice suit, while his friend had on dark jeans and a black jacket. Both were tall, well-groomed, and held themselves like they owned the room. I felt like a mangy mutt next to them. “All the product fits here.”
“If I expand into the empty space next door, there’ll be room for customers to sit at tables instead of just the counter,” Bruno explained. “Room for more prep space and flavors. And who knows, maybe I could start offering gelato?”
My ears perked up. If Bruno was expanding the parlor, maybe he could add a little corner with dog beds and finally allow canine customers inside.
“You’re thinking of expanding?” I asked in excitement, unable to keep quiet. “That’s a great idea.”
All three men fell silent, and it hit me just how serious the vibe in the place was. It bordered on… dangerous .
I gulped.
Both tall men in front of me went still, and Bruno leaned to the side until he could see me behind them.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite customer.” He ran a hand over the top of his bald head. “You’re here early today. The usual two scoops?”
I managed a small smile, but now wasn’t the time to indulge in one of my favorite treats. Finding Bear was my priority.
Since it didn’t seem like the two men were about to order anytime soon, I carefully stepped around them and sidled up to the counter. “Excuse me, sirs. I’ll be quick. I’m actually here on official business today, Bruno.”
His eyebrow rose, and he glanced over my head before answering. “Business? Tell me more.”
I took one of Bear’s flyers off the stack and showed it to him. “There’s a dog missing from the shelter—it’s a long story—and I’m hanging these up in the local shops. Do you mind if I tape one in front of your register?”
“Be my guest, and sorry to hear about the pup,” he said. “Mrs. Applebaum was in here earlier and asked when you’re baking more of those treats.”
My gaze darted to the empty treat bowl I’d set up next to his register, and my lips parted. “I just dropped them off yesterday. They’re already gone?”
“Your treats always go fast. The dogs love them.” He shrugged, and I might’ve preened a little at the praise as I tore off a piece of tape. “She asked if it was a new recipe.”
“It was!” I beamed, momentarily distracted from my mission. “I tried sweet potato this time, but it’s always tricky to?—”
One of the men cleared their throat behind me. “Bruno, as charming as this is, I have a meeting to get to. Can we get back to the reason you called?”
I snapped my mouth shut at his sharp tone and wrinkled my nose. Talk about rude.
Bruno winced like he’d been told off by a schoolteacher. “You’re right. Sorry, Mr. Reed.”
I jerked at his words, and my hand froze with the flyer halfway to the counter.
… Mr. Reed?
That was the name Gladys had mentioned the other day. The family who could stop the young thugs terrorizing our shelter: Sebastian Reed and his son, Davian.
I warned myself not to jump to conclusions, but my heart thundered at this crazy stroke of luck.
“Need anything else, Sadie?” Bruno whispered. I was still standing in front of his register with my hand frozen halfway to the counter. The flyer trembled in my grip.
My mouth opened and closed, but it took a second before I could form words. “I… uh, no. Sorry. I’m good. I just need to finish taping this, then I’ll be on my way.”
I wasn’t even paying attention to what my hands did, but I somehow taped the flyer to Bruno’s register. Clinging to the stack of papers like my life depended on them, I took a deep breath and slowly faced the two men.
It took one glance to know which one had spoken. If the man in the suit wasn’t one of the Reeds who owned the city, I’d bet all my savings he was at least related to them.
He towered over me, leaving me feeling small in his shadow. Dark brown hair called attention to his equally dark eyes. He was looking down at a fancy watch, and he had a chiseled jaw my fingers itched to scratch like I did for Mr. Woofkins.
If I had to guess, he was in his late twenties. Maybe a little older in that suit.
He wasn’t the greasy mobster I’d expected—the kind with slicked-back hair and pinstripes.
He was… beautiful.
I wasn’t complaining.
But there had to be hundreds of Reeds in the city, and I needed to be sure.
I swallowed for courage, but my voice came out as more of a squeak. “Hey, you look familiar. Aren’t you—um—I think you’re?—”
Bruno cleared his throat behind me. “You should run along now. Come back tomorrow.”
My flight instinct kicked in at his urgency, but my knees threatened to buckle when Mr. Reed’s dark gaze met mine. A predatory coldness in them raised the hair on the back of my neck.
“I think we’ve met before,” I lied, ignoring Bruno. “Isn’t your name…?” I trailed off as my voice decided to give up and stop working. Nerves ricocheted around my stomach like pinballs at having this scary man’s attention on me.
“Davian Reed, and we haven’t met,” he answered shortly.
The room tilted around me.
Davian Reed.
My gut screamed at me to run far, far away, but I couldn’t pass up this opportunity. He could be the answer to our prayers.
“Mr. Reed, I need to talk to you about something important?—”
“I’m not interested in buying any cookies.” He averted his gaze, brushing me off without a second thought. “Maybe another time.”
“Cookies?” I echoed quietly. I frowned and glanced down at my short overalls before shaking my head. “No, I’m not a Girl Scout. It’s about the Happy Tails Haven dog shelter. We’re in trouble?—”
“He said to get lost,” the other man snapped, and I tried not to stare at the muscles that bulged in his arms when he crossed them.
But I wasn’t ready to admit defeat so easily. Bear needed me, so I lifted my chin and focused on Davian. “ Please . You’re the only one who can help us.”
He looked at his phone, not even sparing me another glance. “Then I guess you’re out of luck. Vince, take care of this?”
Bruno protested as the scruffier man stepped forward, and I hopped back with a squeak. The stack of flyers fell from my arms, scattering across the tile floor.
Oh no .
“I’m so sorry,” I said to Bruno as embarrassment washed over me. I dropped to the floor, scrambling to pick up the scattered papers.
Mr. Reed’s shadow— Vince , he’d called him—sighed before crouching in front of me and less enthusiastically sweeping flyers into a pile. My cheeks burned hot, and I stammered another apology before a soft glint beneath his jacket caught my eye.
A black gun rested inside his waistband.
Time slowed to a crawl as I tried to remember Gladys’s warnings about the Reed family. She’d mentioned a gun.
Davian Reed would sooner murder a litter of puppies than do a good deed, she’d said . You’d have to hold a gun to his head just to make him hear you out.
If this wasn’t a sign, then I didn’t know what was.
Desperation seized me, and my hands moved before I could fully think things through. I leapt forward with my heart in my throat and grabbed for the gun. My fingers closed around the smooth grip before I tugged backward with all my might.
Vince lunged for me, but I slid back on the floor and pointed the gun up at Davian’s towering form.
Everyone froze. My frantic breaths were the only sound in the room.
“Don’t move,” I warned, scrambling to my feet and dusting off the backside of my overalls. One strap had fallen down, and I hiked it back up onto my shoulder before clutching the gun with both hands.
Was I doing this? Oh my god, I was really doing this.
My hands shook, but I pulled it together enough to level the gun right at Davian’s chest. A strange peace filled my own chest when his dark gaze returned to me.
Gladys was right. Now I had his attention.