Hair of the Dog, Gordon Carroll [top 100 novels of all time TXT] 📗

and guard. He lay next to the bloody heap, quivering in suppressed rage.

I ordered Max to release and guard before he could actually skin the last of the gang-bangers that had disrupted Jerome’s and my fight and looked about the kitchen to make sure the little girl hadn’t been hit by a stray bullet. But both she and Jerome were gone.

The second guy Max had bitten was trying to get to his feet while searching for his gun under a shattered table at the same time. I punted him hard in the face and scored an easy three points, knocking him unconscious.

Running to the front door, I made it just in time to see their car turning the corner with little Keisha standing on the back seat and looking out the window at me. Her face was a mask of fear as they pulled down the street and out of sight. A rage flared inside me that blanked out all rational thought and I strode back into the kitchen as the guy that had pointed the gun at me staggered to his feet. I saw blood spouting from his throat past the fingers of the hand he had pressed tight against the ragged wounds. I punched him as hard as I could in the upper lip. Teeth splintered and his whole face practically caved in. He bounced into the wall and right back at me and this time I swung an uppercut that blasted his chin, snapping his head back so hard it must have come close to breaking his neck, which would have been fine with me just then.

I followed with a straight jab to his solar plexus and I could swear my knuckles scraped his spine. He folded, his face puckering as though he were caving in on himself. I’m pretty sure he was out on his feet, but I saw Keisha’s face in my mind’s eye and came around with a right hook that buckled the remaining bones in his face. He crumpled in a loose heap and I turned, fists clenched, hoping for someone else to punch, searching the kitchen and living room, but all three of the gang bangers were out cold, bleeding quietly to themselves.

That wouldn’t work. I needed answers.

Max watched silently as The Alpha sat the man He’d bitten in the thigh up against a couch, his legs straight out in front of him. The Alpha smacked him across the face several times until the man jerked awake. Max tensed inwardly, ready to lunge. He sensed the man’s pulse in the thick arteries of his throat, thigh and biceps. He could sever any of them in an instant.

Once again, The Alpha confused him. Instead of killing his enemy, he allowed him to live, granting his opponent another opportunity to kill him. It made no sense to Max. In the wild, life was life and death, death. Fair play and rules and laws held no place in nature where the strong survived and the weak perished. And of course his animal brain could never comprehend the idea of leaving an enemy alive to question. But The Alpha commanded and so he obeyed. But if the man attacked, Max would hold back no longer and blood would flow.

10

In the old days, back when I was still a K9 cop, I would have used what’s called a sternal rub to wake this guy up. But I was cranky and they’d just tried to kill me and had stopped me from saving a little girl from her kidnapper. So instead, I smacked him pretty hard a couple of times across the face until he opened his eyes all wide and scared and he jerked back like he thought I was going to hit him again.

Couldn’t blame him. I actually did want to hit him a few more times. But I held back.

“Okay,” I said, “this is the way this is going to work. I’m going to ask you questions and you are going to answer them quickly and truthfully. If you start to stammer, or try and stall or lie to me in any way shape or form, I’m going to have my partner here,” I thumbed back to Max, “rip something off you. It might be a finger or an ear or who knows, maybe something more important.” I glanced down at his lap and he cringed a little. “Either way, I promise it will be something you wouldn’t want to lose, something you couldn’t want to lose, something you shouldn’t want to lose.” I could tell he was one of those people who are naturally terrified of dogs, and Max was more wolf than dog just now, so I felt pretty confident he would see Max as the monster from his childhood nightmares. If not… well… I’d just have to let Max tear a piece or two off to prove it to him.

“Man,” said the bleeding criminal, “you can’t do that… cops can’t do that.”

I smiled a little, just a twitch of the lips really. “Do I look like a cop to you?”

“Yeah,” said the gangbanger, seeming to gain a bit of confidence, “you look just like a cracker cop.”

“Cracker?” I said a bit offended. “That’s very un-PC of you.” I wiggled a finger and Max padded slowly forward… one step…two steps… I held up my hand in a stopping gesture and he stopped… licked his lips… staring at big bad gangster sitting on the floor, his eyes wide as fifty-cent pieces. “I’m not a cop and this,” I thumbed back to Max again, “is no police dog.” I saw Keisha’s face staring at me from the car window and I thought of my own daughter as the boots crunched through the broken glass moving closer and closer. The hint of a smile left my lips and my eyes at the same time and I let him see my true nature. “Who sent you?” My voice sounded dead to my