He hit the turn signal and cruised from the fast lane to the exit, unable to resist making a neat mental list of things that had gone wrong in the past month.
The big fat engineering job with a nuclear firm in London that he’d accepted when he left the Navy six weeks ago had fallen through due to an unexpected budget cut. That left him stunningly unemployed, and uncertain of where he’d go or what he’d do next.
His hope that he could stay in the world’s most perfect two-bedroom bungalow four blocks from the Pacific Ocean had fallen through, too, since he’d given notice when he thought he was moving to London. And that left him temporarily homeless with no clue where on this planet his next job might be.
As the cherry on top of the crap sundae, the woman he’d thought he loved and had planned to propose to the night they were supposed to have arrived in London had also fallen…in love with her next-door neighbor. That left him more broken and betrayed than he cared to admit.
At least he had his family. The dynamic of the Santorini clan might have shifted quite a bit in the last few years, but the heart of his ever-growing family never changed. They’d proven that the minute they heard about the job, the house, and the neighbor.
His widowed mother, who had remarried and lived with her new husband at his extensive canine rescue and training property, had insisted he stay with them at Waterford Farm. His siblings, most of whom had followed Mom from their home in Chestnut Creek to neighboring Bitter Bark, opened up their homes immediately. Even John, who was about to be a newlywed when he married Summer in three weeks.
The Kilcannon kids, his stepsiblings, and their cousins the Mahoneys had also stepped up and offered places for him to stay while he figured out his next move.
Last but never least, Yiayia, his Greek grandmother who literally believed that the sun was placed in the sky to shine on Théodoros Santorini, had begged him to move into the third floor of the rambling old Victorian in Bitter Bark she shared with her cohort in crime, Gramma Finnie Kilcannon.
True to form, the now huge family had rallied to his aid when his life collapsed. And tomorrow, when he arrived in Bitter Bark, they’d all gather at Waterford Farm, toast his homecoming with pitchers of Bloody Marys and shots of Jameson’s—the Irish influence. And then they’d eat and possibly dance—the Greek influence. And if his brother Alex made lamb and spanakopita? And if Yiayia came in with a mountain of kourabiedes—which he knew she would—then Theo could feel like his existence was charmed again.
The thought of his grandmother’s butter cookies made Theo’s stomach growl, a perpetual state for him. But the emptiness reminded him it would be a few hours before he stopped for dinner and a place to spend the night. So, after filling the gas tank, he parked in front of the mini-mart and headed in, eyeing the rolling hot dog grill and smelling pizza.
He ordered two dogs and two pepperoni slices and a soda, threw a big bag of chips and a couple of packs of beef jerky on the counter, and paid.
Then he walked into the head to wash his hands.
A minute later, he was shaking off wet hands and glowering at the empty towel dispenser when the door whipped open so hard it smacked the wall behind it, and a wild-eyed woman burst in.
“Wrong roo—”
“Help me!” she cried breathlessly, and he noticed she was dragging a black dog by a chain around his neck. “Please! Take this dog! Don’t let anyone know it’s here!”
What the hell?
She shoved the dog into the bathroom, and Theo could see the animal was filthy, skinny, and shaking so hard the poor thing could hardly stand on front paws that hadn’t been cleaned or clipped in a lifetime.
“A stray?” he asked.
The middle-aged woman looked up at him with genuine fear in her eyes, creases deepening on her face as she frowned.
“It’d be better off if it was,” she said. “Dog’s been chained to a picnic table for months! I walk my own dog by that place three times a day, and I can see through the trees. No matter what time or what the weather is, this poor animal is out there. Does it get food? I don’t know. Maybe. But if so, it means a fight with all kinds of critters and strays. Just look at this wretched thing! I simply couldn’t take it one more day!”
“Good for you.” He crouched down to get a better look at the animal. The once-white markings on its snout were smoky gray with dirt, and its ribs were visible through short but matted black fur. A mutt, for sure, with floppy ears and pure misery in dark eyes that looked up at him with the same plea for help the lady was making.
“That bastard caught sight of me when I took him, so I gotta leave him here and run. If he sees my truck parked out there…” She shuddered like she didn’t even want to think what could happen. “But whatever you do, please don’t give back this dog. He’s gonna kill the poor thing!”
“Not on my watch,” he muttered. “We’ll find a shelter.”
“You will,” she fired back. “If that guy finds me, I’m dead. I’m not lying when I say I swear to God he’s running a meth lab in that place.” She pushed the animal closer to him, her gaze dropping over him with a quick assessment. “You’re a big guy. You can take that human vermin who deserves to die.”
But he sure as hell didn’t want to be the one to kill him.
“Buck won’t mess with you unless he’s got a rifle.”
Great. His M9 was in the car.
“But if that bastard gets his hands on this dog? He’ll beat the living crap out of this animal and chain it up again. A picnic table! What the hell is wrong with people?” She spun around, flung open the door, and disappeared.
He stared at the door as it closed behind her, his jaw loose, then back at the sorry creature who cowered in fear.
“Oh man.” He held the dog’s desperate gaze and spent a few minutes trying to provide some comfort and figure out his next move. “I’m not gonna hurt you, doggo. But, damn, you look hungrier than I am. You like hot dogs? I’ll get you some, and then we’ll—”
“Don’t lie to me, you son of a bitch! I saw her peel outta here, and my dog weren’t in that truck!”
At the sound of the man’s voice on the other side of the door, the dog dropped to the ground in a ball of quivering, filthy fur, letting out the softest, most heartbreaking whine.
“Where’s Muttsy? Where is she?”
The dog covered her head with two filthy paws, a little trail of pee coming out from behind.
Theo swore under his breath and tried to think.
“I’m gonna find her! Where are you, you mangy mutt?” The words practically bounced off the bathroom door, which unfortunately didn’t have a lock. If Theo went out there, and the guy had a gun, someone—like a bystander or the cashier or the dog—could get hurt.
“You were supposed to bite people, not let them take you, stupid dog!” he hollered, his voice getting closer to the bathroom.
Theo squeezed his eyes and spun through every possible scenario that a military engineer could imagine to mitigate the situation.
“Muttsy! I’m gonna find you, and you ain’t gonna like it!”
Screw mitigation. He had to save this dog. He considered a stall, but wasn’t about to hide from…human vermin. Looking around, Theo spotted a storage closet door and twisted the doorknob, which opened. It was small, but the dog would fit.