Chapter 2
SANDRA
Their eyes are on my back as I lead them into the intake room before the kennel. Any one of them could easily overpower me, let alone all three, but their attention doesn’t feel like a threat, just curiosity, with a good dash of male interest. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t flattering.
They’re an interesting trio. Two must be part Grizzly, massive with dark hair and muscles for days.
The third has sandy hair and ocean blue eyes.
He has a smaller build, but that’s only compared to his overcompensating friends.
More of a quarterback than a linebacker, he’s still over a head taller than I am and could probably sweep me off my feet without breaking a sweat.
All of them are dressed in the usual combination of black leather boots, worn jeans, and MC vests.
One of the big guys is carrying their stray, and he has his MC jacket on.
The way he’s cradling her close to his chest is freaking adorable.
“You the only one here?” one of them asks.
I glance over my shoulder. “Not anymore.”
That earns me a few chuckles, and damn if it isn’t an attractive sound.
Technically I wasn’t alone until they showed up.
Carl, one of our volunteers, was supposed to be working up front when I heard the bell.
The next thing I knew, the side door slammed and he was gone without so much as a goodbye.
The rush confused me until I saw who was standing outside. Chivalry is officially dead.
The big guy who isn’t carrying the stray cocks his head with an assessing look. He has a thick beard, a shock of black hair wrestled back into a short ponytail, and deep, mossy eyes. “You’re pretty ballsy for being alone in here with three strangers.”
Strangers ‘like us’ comes across loud and clear.
I shrug. “Hey, I told you my name, it’s not my fault you haven’t returned the favor.”
The one with the dog gives me a crooked grin.
His hair is shaved close at the sides and left a little longer in a thick slash down the center of his head.
His eyes are so dark they seem black, and his nose looks like it’s been broken a few times and pushed back into place in the dark.
Knowing men, and especially bikers, that’s probably about what happened.
Most eye-catching is the crisp black tattoo that looks like some sort of engine part stretching around and down his neck into his shirt collar.
“Name’s Piston. That’s Beast.” Piston gestures to his fellow giant.
“Ma’am.” Beast says with a politeness that seems totally out of place on a guy with a riot of tattoos covering arms that look like they’re about to burst out of his t-shirt Hulk style. He looks like he’d be happy to rip someone’s head off, then apologize for the mess.
Piston nods to the blond. “And that’s Zero.”
Zero grins. “There, we’re not strangers anymore. Danger’s over.” Behind his smile is a panther-like deadliness that I can't quite put my finger on, but instinctively know is there. I’m pretty sure if he wants to eat me, I’d welcome him back for seconds.
“Whew, I was worried there for a sec.” I flick on the light. The intake room is equipped to handle exams and minor injuries that don’t require a full trip to the vet. I pat the metal table. “You said you found her?”
“Yeah, outside Hal’s in the parking lot.” One of Piston’s big hands is cradling her head, rubbing a thumb behind her ear.
“Okay. Put her here and I’ll take a look. Was there a collar or anything with her name on it?”
“Nah, but I’ve been calling her Junkyard.” He puts her down gently, careful of a swollen, bloody, front paw.
“Junkyard? What were my new best friends thinking? You’re too pretty for that, aren’t you baby?” I look into her golden brown eyes and then up at Piston. “How about Princess?”
“Fuck no,” he says with a snort.
I’m not an idiot, and I’m definitely not naive.
The Screaming Eagles are basically a law unto themselves in this city, and their ruthless reputation is well earned, but they aren’t sadistic boogeymen either.
Don’t mess with them, they won’t mess with you.
When I was younger, guys like these were exactly my kind of trouble and I was more than happy to seek it out. Drove my big sister Natalie crazy.
Figures that she’d be the one to end up hitched to three of them.
Beast, Piston and Zero don’t seem to know about my connection to the club, though, so it must be chance that brought them to my door.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say something about Natalie and her old men, but then I don’t.
Keeping it to myself seems wiser, at least if I don’t want to get another speech from her about looking for trouble.
Instead, I get my supplies ready and shoo Beast and Zero away from the exam table.
"I need room to work. Go loom somewhere else." To my surprise, they listen. I look up at Piston. “Can you hold her while I check her injuries? I can muzzle or sedate her if I have to, but she seems to trust you and I’d rather not stress her out if I don’t have to.”
“Of course. You’ll be good for the nice lady, right Junkyard?” His voice is rich and soothing. Just gravely enough to tickle nicely in my chest. Princess Junkyard seems to agree, because she looks up at him like he hung the moon. Good taste, girl.
When I reach for her paw, she whines and tugs it away but doesn’t snap or growl as I gently take it in my hand.
Slowly and carefully, I use warm water to rinse off the blood and dirt so I can see what we’re working with.
She shivers in Piston’s arms, but seems to understand that we’re trying to help.
There’s a lot of swelling, but I think he was right.
The movement is fine and nothing feels broken.
The only obvious injury is a slow trickle of blood seeping from a puncture wound between her toes.
“I think it looks worse than it is. I bet she got into a fight and got bitten.” I rinse the small hole thoroughly, first with warm water and then with an antiseptic solution before using some ointment and bandaging everything up.
“It’s going to hurt for a few days but if it doesn’t get infected it should heal quickly.
” I check a spot of blood under her jaw, finding and cleaning up a small cut that should heal fine on its own.
My hands run gently over her, checking for injuries that might be hiding.
“Something wrong?” Beast asks.
“Not that we can fix,” I say with a sigh.
“These sorts of mixes are popular with people who want a dog that makes them look tough. They seem to think treating them like crap will toughen them up. Some of her injuries are from running loose, but she should really put on some weight, and she has a lot of old injuries, like her ear. That didn’t just happen. ”
“I noticed the collar mark,” Piston says darkly.
I nod, tracing a faint, healed scar on her neck where the hair has grown back in a little funny.
A collar or rope was likely left too long when she was a puppy and started digging in.
“I don’t want to judge without knowing the situation, though.
Our foster families get a lot of grief because people assume they’re the ones mistreating the dogs when it’s the exact opposite.
” I pull the chip scanner out of the drawer, running it over her neck and back.
Nothing. “No microchip, so Princess probably hasn’t been through a shelter before. ”
“Junkyard,” Beast corrects, grinning when I roll my eyes.
Piston strokes a finger down her muzzle, already half in love. “You said you would keep her for at least a week, right? To see if her owners show up?”
“Yeah. Technically without a chip we don’t have to wait that long, but we usually do unless we’re running out of space.
In a case like this, where she’s young and seems like she hasn’t been a stray very long, we want to give her the best chance we can.
Did you want to give me your number so I can let you know what happens? ”
“If you want my number, honey, all you have to do is ask,” Zero purrs.
I fix him with a glare that probably isn’t very scary considering how warm my cheeks feel. “I was asking Piston.”
Beast laughs. “Harsh.”
Would they be just as flirty if they knew I was crashing in the spare bedroom of three of their fellow Screaming Eagles?
Maybe, maybe not. Quickshot, Animal and Badass treat me like a little sister, but I’m twenty-three.
My love life isn’t any of their business.
Still, I owe my sister everything and there’s a niggling worry in the back of my head that Nat wouldn’t approve.
It doesn’t matter anyway. Flirting is fun, but I don’t need to make my life any more complicated than it already is.
I look down and focus on Junkyard instead, taking measurements and checking her weight.
I take some treats out of the cupboard and put one on the table at her feet.
She scarfs it down immediately. I put down a second and leave my hand there for a moment.
Her attention is totally fixed on the treat, but she’s polite about it, nudging my fingers to the side without nipping or growling. "She’s well behaved.”
Piston laughs. "Of course she is, that’s my daughter you’re talking about." His expression grows more serious. “If the people who had her were abusing her, do you still have to give her back?”
The question makes me feel a little sick. “I wish I could say no, but it can be hard to prove. It’s not like I can just steal people’s animals because I get a bad feeling.” Junkyard nuzzles my hand, licking at the scent of the treats.
"That’s fucked up," Beast snarls, giving me a little glimpse of what he hides underneath the manners.
I like it. It feels real. "It is. Trust me, working here makes me wish I could punch people sometimes." I grin up at him and the smile I get in return sends a little lick of heat through my chest.
He pats his belt. "I’d do fucking better than that."
I suck in a little breath at the reminder that they’re probably all armed. For a moment I’m fifteen again. Surrounded by men who used fear to convince me I needed what they had to offer. Scared to stay. Scared to go home and be reminded I didn’t really have one anymore.
“You okay?” Zero asks. His blue eyes seem to see more than I’m comfortable with.
“Yeah, fine.” I take a deep breath and nod. "Alright, I need to finish getting her cleaned up and into the system so she can move into her new digs. Thanks for bringing her in. No matter what happens, you did a nice thing today."
"Wouldn't be right to just leave her there," Piston states as an indisputable fact.
"I agree, but a lot of people do. They assume someone else will take care of it."
“If you wait for someone else to do shit, then nothing gets done,” Beast says.
Yeah, these guys are definitely trouble. Best to end this before I get too attached. "Alright, Junkyard." I lean closer to her and play whisper. “Princess. Say goodbye to the nice men."
She almost seems to understand that she’s about to be abandoned, or maybe she just feels Piston trying to let go. She whines, pawing at him like she wants him to pick her back up and tuck her into his jacket again.
Piston doesn’t seem any happier about leaving her behind. "Hey, I'm feeling kinda responsible for her. Would it be alright if I stick around to make sure she settles in okay?”
“We’re not really supposed to have anyone here but us and the volunteers…”
“And you’re good at following the rules?”
Oh, the challenge in those twinkling eyes is hard to resist.
If he wasn’t so obviously obsessed with Junkyard, I’d probably say no, but I wouldn’t mind the company and it really might help her adjust better.
Besides, that does sort of technically make him a volunteer.
Some rules are easier to bend than others.
“Fine, you can help, but when I say you have to go, don’t argue with me. ”
He swipes his fingers over his heart in a cross motion.
I show Beast and Zero out to the front again while Piston stays with Junkyard.
It's not until the door shuts behind them, and I've locked up that it sinks in that we’re here alone. I let out a long held breath and watch as Beast and Zero’s motorcycles fire up and roar away.
One bike remains, shadowy in the darkness.
It’s fine. Men like this flirt like they breathe. I’m allowed to just enjoy the company. It doesn’t have to mean anything. Right?
Junkyard’s happy little bark from the other room feels like a yes.