Breaking Creed

29

“Penelope, I don’t train apprehension dogs,” Creed said.

As if on cue, the dog snarled at Creed through the vehicle window. Long and bright white glorious fangs in a massive and strong snout. German shepherds were usually the breed of choice for air-scent dogs, especially for police departments. Creed, however, didn’t have a single one, only because he often took in and trained rescues. Many of them he’d gotten from the tall, lean woman who stood beside him, smiling at the dog in the car.

This dog looked powerful and sleek, with black markings on his brown coat that made him look regal.

“He’s a beaut, though.”

“And you used to not train drug dogs or bomb dogs,” she countered.

Penelope Clemence had been calling and telling him about dogs for the last three or four years. She had an eye for those that were trainable, and Creed respected and appreciated her expertise. But every once in a while she talked him into a dog simply because the dog had pulled her heartstrings.

Creed had never asked what exactly her connection was to the Alpaloose Animal Shelter. He knew she was not a paid employee or listed as a member of their staff. Hannah had told him that Penelope donated much more than time to the shelter. Evidently it was enough money that she got away with some avant-garde tactics.

It surprised Creed that the woman had money because she drove a beat-up Jeep Wrangler with a chunk of the grille missing and huge, thick tires that made her look like an off-roader. Her short hair was the color of honey in what Hannah called a “chic cut.” She wore her fingernails long and they were always manicured and polished, but her jeans were threadbare, worn through at the knees, and her hiking boots had seen better days. Maybe that look was chic, too. Creed paid little attention to such things. All he knew was that Penelope Clemence didn’t look rich and certainly was not what he expected a philanthropic matron to look like. Truth was, Creed had no idea about her life outside the animal shelter. He never asked, and she never offered additional information.

Although Penelope had called Creed about many dogs that he ended up adopting from the shelter, she had never brought one out to his facility. Today he was distracted. He wanted to tell her about the puppies he’d just acquired last night. But he knew it wouldn’t matter. He already guessed this shepherd was another heartstring dog for her, and he owed her a listen.

Despite how gorgeous this guy obviously was, there was no way he could have such an aggressive dog in his kennels. Already ropes of saliva dangled from the dog’s mouth as he bounced around the backseat of Penelope’s SUV, trying to get at Creed.

“Why do you think I’d want a dog that obviously hates me?”

“Oh, sweetie, he doesn’t hate you,” she said in her wonderful southern drawl. “It has nothing to do with you. He hates all men.”

“Oh good, that makes me feel so much better.”

“He’s wonderful with other dogs. Very loving.”

That didn’t surprise Creed. Still, he couldn’t train a dog that wanted to attack him.

“He’s crazy smart and only two years old.”

Before Creed could respond, Penelope clapped her hands three times and the dog sat down.

“Good boy, Chance!” She buzzed down the car window enough to toss him a dog treat. He caught it, chomped and swallowed. It was a pathetically small treat for such a huge mouth, but he stayed put, hoping for more.

“You named him Chance, expecting me to give him another?” Creed whispered so the dog wouldn’t get excited at hearing his name.

“His previous owner likes playing the slots in Biloxi. Thought he’d bring her good luck. Turns out her new boyfriend doesn’t much like the dog. Especially when he’s hitting on his girlfriend and the dog attacks.”

“That’s what she said?”

“In her police record. Then she changed her mind. Recanted. Said the dog attacked her boyfriend for no reason at all.”

“Damn, that’s cold.”

“Boyfriend or the dog. She chose the boyfriend. Dog’s gotta go.”

“And because he attacked someone—”

“That’s right. He’s on the docket for elimination this week. Actually, tomorrow.”

Creed let out a long sigh. He tucked his fists into his jean pockets.

“Can’t you get in a lot of trouble for this?” he asked her.

“What are they going to do? They can’t fire me. I think they need my annual donation and volunteer services more than they care about one dog.”

Creed forgot and leaned against the vehicle. Chance jumped up, banging front paws against the inside of the door. He snarled and was trying to bite through the three inches of open window.

When Creed glanced over at Penelope, he caught her with eyes wide and mouth open, as if she wanted to give another command but realized it might be too late for that.

“Does anyone know you brought him here?”

“Brought who?”

He smiled and shook his head. She was good.

“Let me go get Andy,” he said. “She’ll need to settle him down. Most likely she’ll need to be the one to train him, too.”