Chapter 24
I BACKED into the driveway of another anonymous Catbox house to turn the cruiser around towards Main Street, leaving it in idle while Boxer and the Acceptance Muscle Squad moved with synchronized precision. They gathered Otto and loaded him into the bed of a gleaming blue pickup truck with a dented side fender. Once their truck hummed into gear, I pulled out, leaving Woodward surrounded by a knot of his own vehemently arguing muscle men.
In the passenger seat, with the Rottie half on his lap and half in the footwell, Eric exhaled so hard a few of Cuddles’ longer ruff hairs moved. Or maybe they just moved on their own? Sweat had broken through the ash and cinders covering Eric’s face. One filthy hand gripped the huge dog’s chain collar, the other gently stroking her shoulder.
