48. Above Average
above average
. . .
Davian
The damn hellhound hadn’t just stolen my shoes from the mudroom—he’d gotten into the entire collection. Every last pair in my closet was missing, and I had no idea where the hell he’d hidden them all.
“When did he even have time to do this?” I asked Vince. If it weren’t slowing me down from getting Sadie back, I might’ve been impressed. “I thought you were watching him.”
“I’m not a pet sitter.” His nostrils flared. “And that dog is a menace. I took my eyes off him for a second outside, and he got into Tony’s garden.”
I couldn’t imagine the chef would be happy about that.
But thanks to the beast’s antics I ended up borrowing a pair of Vince’s boots.
…Which led to a new problem we hadn’t foreseen, and I made it five steps into the garage before pain shot through me like my toes were being severed from my body. “How am I just now learning you have tiny feet?”
“My feet aren’t tiny, you ass.” He scowled at the boots. “They’re above average.”
“I can’t feel my toes.” I tried wiggling them, but his spare boots packed them in tighter than sardines. “What size are these?”
Vince grumbled something about ungrateful bastards and clown feet before storming ahead to the nearest SUV, and it was the closest I’d come to smiling since Sadie had run off.
But there wasn’t time for ribbing him, even if he did have shockingly petite feet.
We climbed into the front of the SUV, and I started making calls while Vince took the main road back toward the city.
I tried Sadie four more times. No answer.
It was difficult not to take it personally.
I called my men at the shelter, too—but there was no sign of her. Sadie’s landlord said he’d keep an eye out for her, and Bruno promised to call me if she showed up at his place. What was supposed to be a quick chat with Mr. Sanders to see if he’d outfitted the Dog-Mobile with a tracking device was hijacked by his undying gratitude for my donation.
“No, I never saw the point in GPS tracking. Sounds like just another way for the government to keep tabs on all of us,” he answered gruffly. “Though now, with the sizeable donation you made, I don’t see why we couldn’t make that happen. The new security system was installed today, and one of your fellas walked me through all the features. Spiffy stuff, never seen any technology like it.”
“Back to my other question. Has Sadie called?—”
“I just can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for Happy Tails Haven,” Mr. Sanders continued, gushing more undeserved praise. “I don’t care what anyone else says about you, Mr. Reed. You’re a good man. A decent man. You’ve changed these dogs’ lives. Hell, as far as I’m concerned, you’re a hero.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. My reputation would never recover from helping Sadie.
“Don’t mention it,” I said, keeping my tone brusque. “Have you heard from Sadie at all today?”
“No, no. Is something wrong?” He finally sounded concerned. “She was supposed to bring Bear back this morning. The rest of us had a surprise party planned to celebrate their return, but then Gladys and Ryan disappeared. I can check the new cameras?—”
“Just call me at this number if you hear from her,” I said before hanging up.
I was texting Enzo to see if he could hack Sadie’s cell carrier to track her down when Malcom’s name flashed across the screen.
I’d never been happier to answer a call. “Tell me you found her.”
“We caught up to the van,” he answered shortly.
The worry that’d had my chest in a chokehold since Sadie left finally loosened its grip, and I could breathe again. “Good. Send me your location, and we’ll meet you?—”
“Wait.” Malcolm cleared his throat. “Boss, we found the van … but your girl wasn’t in it.”