Roxxy to the Rescue

Acknowledgments

I am grateful for my endlessly beautiful wife, Kim, who not only created the original artwork for Roxxy, but who helped me with a critical plotpoint when I was struggling at the beginning of the project.

Special thanks to my friend, Theresa Hamilton, who found Roxxy’s alter ego, Ginger, when the stray pup was living behind a pile of rocks next to a parking lot. Ginger appeared and walked next to Theresa, who was strolling during a break at work. Being a cat person (nobody’s perfect), Theresa attempted to avoid eye contact, but Ginger was relentless. The rest is history. I ended up with Ginger, Ginger ended up with me, and every day brings the certainty for me that I got the best of the deal. Ginger sends a tailwag to Fairy Godmother Theresa.

Thanks also to my many friends who provided encouragement while I was writing Roxxy. You know who you are, and I am grateful. A special shoutout to Rich Waycaster, who offered invaluable feedback near the end of the project. Rich could teach Roxxy a few things about saving the day.

Sincere gratitude to my editor, Cyndi Sandusky, for her many contributions, not the least of which included identifying where I had Fall-blooming plants blossoming in the Spring, Spring-blooming plants blossoming in the Fall, insect-eating birds consuming seeds, and seed-eating birds gobbling insects. Sheesh! What happened to artistic license? In any case, thank you Cyndi for making me a better writer and a more astute observer of nature’s wonders.

Many thanks as well to Christine Horner at Open Book Design. I benefited from her brilliant design skills, her flexibility when flexibility was called for, and her practicality by reminding me that art directors don’t tell writers how to write, and writers would do well to reciprocate. Christine is a rockstar.

Any inaccuracies contained in the manuscript are my responsibility alone.

CHAPTER 1:

Being adorable is exhausting.

Stop stalling, growled Max, scruff bunched across his shoulders. I want a rematch.

I bet you do, replied Roxxy. Loser.

Ancient history. This time—

Itch, she announced, rolling over and pressing her back into the family room’s beige carpet. All four legs waved in the air as her hips swiveled one way and shoulders the other in an enthusiastic wriggle. Ahhh.

Don’t think you’re getting off that easy, huffed Max, dropping to the floor and resting his chin on hefty paws. I’ll wait.

You do that.

Roxxy stopped mid-wriggle and cocked an ear. The rattle of pots and pans came from the kitchen at the back of the house. The family’s humans—Bill and Carol—were preparing dinner, which meant the evening meal for the canines would soon follow. Roxxy’s nose twitched, sifting scents. Bill could usually be relied upon to slip a bit of savory roast beef or chicken into the dog bowls to supplement the kibble. So far, the only food prep smells were the disappointing and pungent aromas of peeled onions and crushed garlic.

Still waiting, huffed Max.

And annoying. Roxxy wondered if all brothers were such a pain. Max was obsessed with taking the alpha-sib position from her. She could understand it. He was far bigger and would be dominant if not for her quickness. Their sister, Lulu, had never shown any interest in the role, commenting, "That alpha stuff is old fashioned. We don’t need to organize. The only scary thing around here is the vacuum cleaner."

Roxxy snorted. She and her littermates were as different in temperament as they were in physical appearance. They definitely put the mixed in mixed breed.

She amped up her wriggling.

Chigger bite? asked Max, his cinnamon eyes narrowing with interest. Or seizure?

Hysterical, replied Roxxy, putting a little more oomph into the motion to reach a particularly troublesome spot in the middle of her back.

Bee?

She ignored him. Like most scratching, the process became satisfying even after the itch disappeared. Her back tingled from the friction with the carpet.

Are you going to make me guess? Poison ivy?

Hornet.

Max’s scruff relaxed. Sorry, Sis. Those things are no joke. Where did it sting you?

She went still but kept her back pressed against the carpet. Take a wild guess.

"Where in the yard?"

Near the vegetable garden. Got me while I was chasing that carrot-loving rabbit. What a cliché.

Max’s ears shot upright, creating short, triangular fins on either side of his head. "He outran you? Hard to believe."

Her tail—leading a life of its own as usual—swept back and forth at the implied compliment, producing a whispery swish as it brushed the low-pile Berber. I just wanted to warn him off. Besides, what would I do with a live rabbit?

Eat him?

Roxxy shuddered. Can you imagine the mess? Give me a nice bowl of kibble any day.

She rolled to her stomach and gathered in a length of brown rope with a knot at each end. The tough material was her favorite chewy. Real hemp. Not the red and white cotton that started out tightly woven but soon deteriorated into a soggy mess that left strands wedged between her teeth. Yuck.

Roxx, let’s get back to that rematch. Max’s gaze flattened into a challenging stare.

Her jaws worked busily to cover the chewy with enough spit to claim it as her own—at least until one of the other dogs had a go. That was the problem with five canines under one roof. You had to share everything, and if you weren’t a fast eater, forget about it. Still, at nine months old, she was grateful to live in her birth home with her littermates, even if her parents lectured them daily about being good dogs. Loyal, obedient, blah, blah, blah. Honestly, was a concept ever more overrated? Bill and Carol were the only humans in the household. Roxxy heard more swishing. The pair were the best personal assistants a dog could ask for. So adorable, especially when they acted like they were in charge.

Roxxy knew she had a good setup. Her only source of irritation—well, besides the family cat, but that was another story—was the big-boned, rangy, wire-haired brute on the opposite side of the room. Max sat Sphinx-like between two rectangles of yellow sunlight slanting across the carpet. Ropy muscles stood out beneath his black-and-tan coat. He was older than her by seven minutes but acted like it was seven years and often provided an abundance of unwelcome advice, such as encouraging her to take a turn fetching Bill’s house slippers. Not in this lifetime. She could understand chewing on shoes, but fetching them for a human who was perfectly capable of doing the task? Please.

She bit deep into the hemp and gave it a good shake, enjoying the way her teeth slid between the tough fibers.

Afraid I’ll win this time? asked Max.

Roxxy laid a furry paw on the chewy and gnawed a knot, tasting undertones of dried straw and hay. All the alpha-sib matches had gone the same. Max would charge. She’d dodge. He’d trip over those gigantic paws and go down like a water buffalo on roller skates. She’d zip in and place her jaws lightly on his throat, and he’d go limp like tradition dictated. Match over. She’d return to her normal duties of napping and…well, more napping.

Roxxy, Max prompted.

Her nose twitched as a breeze stirred the linen curtains framing the south-facing windows. She wished Bill had planted the herb garden a little farther from the house. Basil and cilantro were a double whammy. Too strong, and—

I’m tired of waiting! snapped Max, lips fluttering in a snarl.

Roxxy blinked. She knew he wouldn’t really hurt her, but he was creeping her out with all the aggressive posturing. Maybe she should concede the alpha-sib position. What difference would it make? The only changes would be Max getting first dibs on treats and the primo napping spots. She sighed. And he would feel even more entitled to offer commentary on how she should mind their parents and stay out of trouble.

Roxxy worked her teeth free of the damp hemp and gathered her legs beneath her.

"Get ready! A strip of fur rippled down the length of Max’s spine. You had your chance!"

The barking bounced off the walls, sending a framed photo rattling against the wire and nail keeping it in place.

Roxxy’s eyes settled on Max’s front paws as he leaned forward to spring.

For goodness—pipe down in there! came Carol’s voice from the kitchen.

A second later, Bill’s baritone followed. Quiet, Max. It’s not like you to bark in the house.

Max’s ears fell in submission.

Serves you right, said Roxxy, flicking her foreleg to send the chewy bumping across the carpet.

She stood and stretched, pleased that Carol and Bill had put Max in his place, but her satisfaction disappeared when she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the fireplace’s glass doors. She looked as intimidating as a throw pillow. Her shoulders barely reached knee high to an adult human, and her compact body was no bigger than a gym bag. Blond curls swirled in every direction, making her look like she’d just stepped out of a wind tunnel. Fortunately, she was plenty sturdy under all that wavy fur. She was a better leaper than Max or even their dad, despite having shorter legs. The problem was she resembled a cuddler instead of a scrapper…and truth be told, she did enjoy a good snuggle with her housemates. Except the family cat, of course. She wasn’t insane.

Roxxy sighed, wishing her reflection suggested less pushover and more give me that chewy or I’ll thump you with it. The tip of each furry ear flopped forward in a neat fold to give her a perky, good-natured appearance. Her shortish muzzle, courtesy of a distant pug ancestor, ended in a black button of a nose. Chestnut eyes peeked through a fringe of blond bangs. She noticed that her tail, coated with a double layer of blond shag, was drooping. Great, she thought. The thing was like carrying a sign to announce your inner feelings to the world. I hate my looks!

Worst of all, she was the only dog in the house cursed with an underbite. Even when her mouth was closed, the row of tiny bottom teeth peeked out at the front. Bill and Carol seemed incapable of going a day without gushing, "Who’s got the cutest wittle underbite in the whooooole wiiiiiide world? You do! You’re the cutest wittle doggy!"

Why did two perfectly reasonable humans turn into babbling—

The thought brought her up short. There hadn’t been much baby talk or high-pitched cooing from Bill and Carol lately. In fact, both had been acting strangely. One minute distracted, the next caressing the ears and rubbing the bellies of Roxxy and her littermates. Come to think of it, her parents had seemed a bit off as well. The good dog lectures had become more frequent and intense. But why? Everybody in the household was healthy—her nose would’ve detected any illness. There was plenty to eat, and the water bowls were always full. What could be wrong?

Frustrated by the mystery, she took her irritation out on the oaf at hand. "Max, you annoyed Carol and Bill. They never get mad."

I didn’t mean—

Roxxy interrupted, In case you haven’t been keeping track, we’re practically adults! Try showing a little dignity.

She went silent as her nose registered a savory scent. She shoved her face into the carpet. Was a morsel of corn chip goodness buried deep in the fibers? Hard to be sure. She took a massive breath. A tiny crumb flew up her nostril and disappeared down her windpipe. The ensuing bout of sneezing/coughing/hiccupping left her spent and dizzy.

What was that about dignity? asked Max.

Roxxy sat up tall, placing her eye-level with Max’s breastbone. I wasn’t the one who barked loud enough that Carol and Bill heard it from the other end of the house!

"They know I’m a good dog!"

Dumb and obedient? Roxxy gave a double blink of amusement. Max had clearly fallen for their parents’ propaganda.

She couldn’t see the point of following all those rules. Don’t chew on the curtains. Don’t bother the cat. Don’t raid the picnic basket when no one is looking. Her eyes went out of focus. If only she’d been quick enough to get both drumsticks. You had to hand it to Bill. The man could fry a chicken.

You’re drooling, observed Max.

Her pink tongue cleaned up the corners of her mouth. "Am not. Maxey, be a good dog and run along, but wake me when it’s dinner time." She dismissed him by wrinkling her muzzle.

Like all canines, Roxxy used her whole body to talk. Tiny variations in ear flicks could communicate great to see you, drop that chew toy and back away, or any number of things depending on the angle and depth of the movement. And tail twitches? Too big a subject to even get into.

Max growled, "I’m not going anywhere. Besides, I can’t believe you’re telling me to be good? You’re a born troublemaker. You drive Bill and Carol crazy."

Don’t be so dramatic, she replied.

"You ate a chair!" exclaimed Max.

"Only the leg. And I didn’t eat it. Just chewed."

Her mouth tingled as she recalled the earthy richness of the mahogany. She wondered if all antiques were so tasty. Hmmm…there were three chairs left in the dining room, not to mention the table.

Max scolded, I know that look. Don’t even think about it! Bill and Carol are the best people ever. You should learn to behave.

Roxxy shared Max’s opinion about Bill and Carol. The pair worked like humans—an old canine expression—to provide a wonderful home for the dogs. Roxxy fulfilled her end of the bargain by being on-call for petting, and she handled chores such as napping and making sure her food bowl was squeaky clean. She felt sorry for humans. It must be terrible to be burdened with those opposable thumbs that produced computers and cell phones. From the way humans stayed glued to the screens, the gadgets must require constant attention. Some of their inventions were wonderful, for sure. Crunchy nuggets of kibble? Sheer genius.

Roxxy was constantly amazed at how people could be so clever in some ways but clueless in others. For instance, humans had never figured out that canines understood people-speech. Even good dogs didn’t let on they knew more than basics like sit and stay. Otherwise, humans would never give them a moment’s peace. Don’t shed in the house. Keep the gophers out of the garden. Give yourself a bath. People might even expect dogs to get a job. The thought was so disturbing, Roxxy gave herself a vigorous head-to-tail/tail-to-head shake.

Mood and fur pleasantly adjusted, she hopped onto the sofa and turned in a series of tight circles before collapsing. Nap time.

Max yapped, I’m serious about you staying out of trouble! You—

Indoor voice. She snuggled deeper into the cushion.

Max fell silent and cocked an ear. When no rebuke came from the kitchen, he continued quietly, Carol was really upset when you destroyed that chair leg.

She forgave me.

"Only because you can do that, uh…that thing."

This?

Roxxy’s ears tilted back to a half-mast position of submission. She batted long lashes, sending bangs atremble while gazing out soulfully from behind the fleecy blond curtain. She threw in a whimper as a promise that she would never again misbehave.

Max grumbled. Bill and Carol melt when you do that.

They fall for it every time, agreed Roxxy with a snort, ears lifting perkily. You’ve got to love humans and their wacky sense of optimism.

What about that alpha match? asked Max. He began gnawing on the ropy chew toy.

I need a nap. Being adorable is exhausting. Not that you’d know.

She folded her tail tight around her. The room darkened as she placed the feathery tip across her eyes.

Come on, Roxx. All I need is another chance.

Hmmm? The call of a mourning dove drifted through the window. Hooo-oh, hoo, hoo, hoo…hooo-oh, hoo, hoo, hoo. Roxxy imagined the ash-gray creature settling on a cozy nest, keeping her chicks warm, and …

A burring snore filled the room.

Sis!

Roxxy’s eyes flew open. "Dinner?!?"

You were snoring. I want that alpha match.

"You woke me for that?" She sprang off the sofa and stumbled when a rear paw landed on a red rubber ball the size of an apple.

She examined the offending object. Worst chew toy ever. The sphere was hollow and had a hole where a treat could be deposited. Determined gnawing was required to extract the goodie. Typical. What was it with humans and making everything so difficult? They could simply hand over the treat and add a little context, like Nice going on being so cute.

She lashed out with her back leg like a mule, sending the ball arcing through the air to land on the armchair next to the sofa.

Ouch!

Roxxy craned her neck to get a look at the chair’s seat. The ball rested against her sister’s flank. Lulu, the middle sib, was four minutes older than Roxxy and three younger than Max.

Roxxy was convinced that her sister was the prettiest dog in the world. Lulu had the conformation of a small beagle. Her white coat was striking in contrast to her ebony ears, paws, and inch-long black tip at the end of her tail. And Lulu wasn’t cursed with an underbite.

Sorry for waking you, Sis, apologized Roxxy. It was Max’s fault.

Figures, Lulu replied as she rose and shook.

Roxxy watched with envy as a white cloud swirled around her sister. Lulu had a shedding ability that produced results like a feather pillow fluffed with a chain saw. Carol vacuumed daily in a self-proclaimed effort to keep the place from looking like a hair factory. Roxxy snorted. The woman clearly loved a challenge.

Lulu jumped from the chair and landed lightly on the carpet. Roxx, why is our goofball brother bothering you?

Max protested, Hey! I haven’t done anything!

Roxxy huffed, Lulu, don’t believe him. He wants an alpha-sib rematch.

"Not again. Lulu eyed Max. You always lose and spend the rest of the day pouting. What makes you think this time will be different?"

Growth spurt. I’m a lot bigger now.

Roxxy silently agreed. Max had always been bigger than her, but now his body had fulfilled the promise of those gargantuan paws. He was a hefty forty-five pounds, if not more. Far bigger than her own thirty. He’d probably add another twenty-five by the time he reached full adult size, while she’d put on another ten pounds at best.

Lulu said, "Roxx, he is freakishly large."

That’s what I mean, agreed Max, short tail bobbing. The movement stopped. Wait, what?

Lulu continued to Roxxy, Maybe it’s time to admit that you’re overmatched.

"I don’t know about freakish," Max objected.

Lulu, you really believe he can beat me? Roxxy asked.

"I was thinking rugged, or maybe imposing."

"Shut up, Max!" Roxxy and Lulu chorused.

Max pleaded, Give me a chance. As the big brother, it’s my duty to teach my little sisters important life lessons.

Lulu snorted. I’ve got to hear this.

Roxxy said darkly, Somehow, I think most of these lessons are going to be directed at me.

Well, yeah, said Max. Lulu, you’re level-headed and you make good decisions.

Lulu frowned. You make me sound boring.

"You’re not boring. You’re, uh, normal. Roxxy, on the other paw, has never encountered a bad decision she didn’t like."

Roxxy growled. Give me an example.

I already did. Eating furniture.

"Give me another example!"

"The alpha-sib issue. You beat me in the past by being quicker, but that only goes so far. I’m a lot larger now. I’d never forgive myself if you took on a big dog and got hurt. You’ve got to learn your limits. We can even skip the match if you’ll concede."

She blinked. Maybe she’d been wrong to peg Max as a sore loser after their previous matches. What if he’d been disappointed in himself for failing to fulfill his—so-called—big-brother duties? Still, she didn’t like the idea of him thinking she needed to be taught a lesson…although he did seem to have her best interests at heart. The air behind her stirred. Stupid tail. It was making it hard for her to stay mad at him.

Lulu said, Roxx, I think Max is right. You should concede. Besides, who cares if he’s gotten too big for you to beat? He’ll never come close to being an adorable fluff ball like you.

Roxxy grumbled, I wish Bill had never called me that. Makes me sound like a cat toy.

She paused, ear twitching as she picked up the snick-snick-snick-snick-snick-snick of a knife blade hitting a chopping board in the kitchen. Bill did all the cooking, and Carol took care of all the other household chores. Roxxy sighed. They really were well-trained humans. She hoped Bill was putting aside some pot roast to mix with the kibble for dinner. Maybe she would forgive him for burdening her with the fluff ball description.

Lulu wagged her tail. Roxxy, fluff ball sounds cute! I’d kill for those blond curls.

Max snorted. But we’ve forgotten Roxxy’s best feature.

Bad idea, Max, warned Lulu.

"Why? Bill and Carol love that cute wittle underbite."

Roxxy’s eyes narrowed. Mention my underbite one more time, and your new name will be Tripod.

Don’t be so sensitive. Let’s get back to you conceding.

"Concede this!" She darted forward and nipped him hard on the ear.

Owww!

She pulled back and dropped into a springy crouch. He’d definitely grown, but she was still way faster. Plus, he was unaware she had another advantage. She’d noticed early in their matches that his front paws kneaded the carpet when he was about to spring. That habit allowed her to sidestep his charges and pivot back to plow into his flank. The second he thudded to the floor, she would be on him.

What are you waiting for? she taunted. I thought you wanted a rematch. Having second thoughts?

Max’s toes flexed, making small indentations in the carpet.

Roxxy’s body hummed with anticipation. All distractions faded—Lulu’s concerned panting, the ticking of the walnut clock on the mantel above the fireplace, the spicy scent of a neighbor’s freshly mown grass. She readied herself for Max’s charge.

Any second now…

Thought so, said Max, toes going still.

What? she asked, trying not to sound disappointed.

Come off it. I know you know that I know.

You’re babbling, she growled.

Max gave his toes a quick flex. I figured it out.

Stop gloating, Max! yapped Lulu.

Roxxy threw her sister a grateful look—and knew instantly she’d made a mistake. Max charged. There was no time for her to dodge left or right. Her legs uncoiled, and she shot straight up like a fur-covered rocket. Max zoomed through the space she’d occupied an instant before, his airstream ruffling the curls on her belly.

Take that, half-wit! she yipped triumphantly, pleased she’d leaped over his charge, but at the last second his thick tail struck solidly against her right rear paw.

Ceiling and floor spun end over end as she tumbled in a midair flip. She tucked in her legs and managed to stick the landing by sheer luck, but she was facing away from Max. She whirled, expecting to see him in a tangle of limbs after tripping over his snowshoe paws.

Half-wit? snarled Max, poised in a ready crouch. I’ve had it with the name-calling!

Roxxy’s nose twitched at the scent of real anger—a smell like a metal pan left too long on a hot burner. Uh oh.

Lulu croaked, Roxx, stop messing around and concede.

Too late, Max growled. His wide jaws snapped up the rope chew toy from the floor. He released it with a twist of his muscled neck. The hemp smashed into the end table beside the couch. The lamp atop the table rocked without toppling. The brass base clicked against the polished maple surface before settling back in place.

Roxxy heard her heart thudding in the sudden silence.

Lulu squeaked, C-calm down, Max.

The scruff rose across Max’s shoulders. Stay out of this, Lulu! Roxxy and I are going to settle this once and for all!

Roxxy gulped and took a step back. A try for another step ended when her rump smacked into the upholstered surface of an ottoman.

Trapped, huh? asked Max, lips skinning back in a snarl.

Roxxy looked left and right. Furniture formed a barrier on both sides. Her gaze returned to Max. A froth of saliva glistened on his teeth.

Trapped, she acknowledged with a shiver.

AXEL

Next delivery? asked Ethan.

You know the schedule, replied Axel. I just dropped off a batch. Three weeks until the next group.

"My buyer wants them as soon as possible, which means I want them as soon as possible."

The problems of a middleman, said Axel. Breaks my heart. Counting cash and avoiding risk. You’ve got it tough.

"I’m in charge, Ax. This isn’t a partnership anymore. You work for me."

Axel gripped the cell phone tighter. The current working relationship with Ethan was less satisfying than the one they’d had as cellmates in the state penitentiary. The other cons had called them Hustle and Muscle.

Ethan had devised schemes for smuggling and bookmaking.

Axel’s specialty had been collections.

Well? prompted Ethan.

The schedule is set.

The schedule’s what I say it is.

I haven’t even started gathering the next batch.

Then stop whining and get a move on.

Axel’s free hand curled into a fist. Ethan had gotten early release and had had an operation up and running by the time Axel made parole. A year in, Axel still couldn’t believe there was so much money in stealing—

How soon? repeated Ethan.

Axel leaned against the warped door frame. At a towering six-five and a hefty two-fifty, his solid bulk sent a shiver through the metal jamb. The entry to the makeshift warehouse was the best place to capture the breeze that kicked up every afternoon. Lifting his chin, he inhaled the cool air laced with a heavy dose of pine sap. The wind quickened, and the building surrounding the doorway ominously groaned. Old rivets strained to hold the corrugated panels together.

Axel shrugged. The place might be a dump, but the location was ideal—a thirty-minute drive from Asheville and surrounded by low mountains covered in dense forest inhabited only by wildlife. The isolated structure perched atop one of the elevations and was only accessible by a rutted gravel road twisting up the mountainside. The walls were rusting but solid enough to deaden the sounds that echoed from within when he was accumulating a shipment.

Movement caught the corner of Axel’s eye. A dragonfly cruised closer in a flight path of angular fits and starts. The insect stopped and hovered within a yard of his face. The elongated emerald body glowed in the sunlight. Iridescent wings beat in a silvery blur and generated a faint hum as the creature remained in place, as if suspended from a string.

Axel spat.

The soaked dragonfly windmilled backward and tumbled to the gravel parking pad. Wings heaved, but the coating of goo bound them to the stones.

You awake? prompted Ethan.

Savoring the joys of nature.

Savor on your own time. How soon can you deliver?

Axel shifted his weight to the other side of the doorway. A screw popped free from the overhead sill and pinged off the cracked cement stoop. Even money as to whether the Outpost would collapse before the short-term lease ended in a month. Outpost was the term he used for whatever remote building was serving as his warehouse when putting together a shipment. The present structure was a barn-like, windowless rectangle with no air conditioning or heat, but it had electricity and running water. A crusted drain rested in the middle of the cement floor.

The corners of Axel’s mouth turned down when he thought of the Outpost he’d used before the current one. It had been an abandoned tobacco farm near Tryon. He’d rented the place solely because of the large, enclosed shed that had once been used to dry harvested leaves. All had gone fine until the property’s well dried up after a month. After that, he’d had to haul water in forty-gallon jugs. He’d kept the shipment alive until it was ready to transport, but there hadn’t been enough water to rinse out the cages. And the smell? Never again.

Axel noticed the dragonfly lifting a wing free. His jaw worked. The insect disappeared beneath a yellow-streaked blob.

Stop stalling and answer, snapped Ethan.

I already did, replied Axel, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth. The whole point of a schedule is to follow it.

He scanned the forest beyond the parking pad. Hikers sometimes wandered off the trails winding through the Appalachians. A well-placed kick would send them on their way. No serious damage, but enough to get the message across.

Let’s try this one more time, said Ethan. The schedule’s whatever I say it is. Got it?

The breeze quickened, whistling past Axel as it funneled through the doorway. He hooked a finger in the neck of his black t-shirt and pulled. Air slid across his chest but did nothing to cool the flush creeping from breastbone to chin. On the shirtfront, the image of a grinning white skull stretched as if baring its teeth.

A flash of light caught his eye. The dragonfly’s silver wings moved in determined flutters. The creature was struggling out of the yellow glop like a dinosaur dragging itself from a tar pit. Only a thinning strand kept it grounded.

Answer me, insisted Ethan. Unless you’re too dumb to understand the question.

Axel bit his bottom lip to prevent a curse from escaping. He winced as his teeth broke the skin and the taste of iron settled on the tip of his tongue. A forefinger wiped the blood from his lip and smeared it on the front of the t-shirt, giving the skull a red eyebrow. He turned to go inside the Outpost but stopped and looked back.

The filament parted that held the dragonfly. The creature rose in a blur of silver wings.

Axel stomped.

Mood improved, he raked the sole of the boot across the threshold and entered the building. A series of sneezes brought him to a halt. He squeezed his nose between thumb and forefinger. A glance up revealed streaks of black mold coating wooden rafters. The old beams did double duty by supporting the low-pitched corrugated ceiling and providing braces to suspend boxy fluorescent light fixtures from chains. He’d never gotten around to replacing the bulbs in the rear of the building. That area was useless to him. Broken wooden crates, old tractor parts, and other assorted junk. The front part of the interior was a different story. Bright fluorescent lights glinted off the tops of the wire cages, throwing grids of shadows on the empty interiors. Axel’s nose wrinkled, and he looked at the stains snaking across the cement. Might be time for some bleach.

One last chance, said Ethan flatly.

I’m dumb, remember? Takes me awhile to think things through.

Okay. I was wrong. You’re a bright guy, Axel. A regular genius. When can you get the shipment here?

Tell you what I’ll do, Ethan. I’ll bring a partial—

Forget it. I want a full order, and I want it in two weeks.

No way. I told you about the flyers going up all over Asheville. I need to let things cool down.

Has anybody connected the dots?

What are you talking about?

Cops, Axel. Are any of the flyers posted by the local PD? You know, call if you see anyone suspicious, that kind of thing?

What difference does it make? Axel grimaced.

He should’ve thought of that himself.

Churn and burn, baby! The flyers don’t mean anything unless the cops are involved.

Axel changed the subject. We haven’t talked money.

The price is set.

Not for a rush job.

Don’t go there, Axel.

An extra thousand, or you can gather the shipment yourself. Axel waited, but the only sound was the rumble of flexing sheet metal as the wind picked up outside.

Done, rasped Ethan.

I’m glad we could work it out. No hard… Axel’s voice trailed off.

The phone’s screen was blank except for the time—5:17 p.m. He smiled. Let the twerp sulk. Ethan had no idea what was in store for him after the next delivery.

CHAPTER 2:

I hope you’ve learned your lesson.

Roxx, Lulu pleaded. "You’ve got to concede."

I’m not afraid of this oat! squeaked Roxxy in a high yip. She swallowed. "I mean, oaf!"

Her tail curled between her back legs. She sent it a silent rebuke. Traitor!

Yeah, growled Max. You look really confident.

I can still beat you—Roxxy lifted her mutinous tail and ordered it to remain upright—and I don’t need tricks to do it.

We’ll see about that. Max’s hackles rose.

Lulu stomped her front paw. Roxx, I wish you’d listen for once. Max isn’t the slow, clumsy dolt he used to be.

Right. He frowned. Wait, what?

Pipe down, Lulu ordered. I’m trying to talk some sense into Roxxy.

Max choked.

This isn’t funny. She’s too hard-headed for her own good.

Don’t you think I know that? Max shot back. That’s why I’m doing this!

Roxxy studied her brother. His hackles were now smooth, and the hard light in his eyes had softened. He’s concerned about me!

Lulu, said Max. "Roxxy has to learn to back down when she’s outmatched. Every dog does. I don’t want her to think she’s invincible."

There’s got to be another way besides these stupid alpha matches!

Fine! retorted Max. "Let’s hear your idea."

Roxxy tuned out the byplay between her sibs. Her mind raced as she tried to think of something new that would give her an edge over Max. Maybe provoke him into doing something foolish? And the sooner the better. The minute he finished explaining himself to Lulu, he’d launch another charge.

Think, Roxxy ordered herself. Dinnertime was approaching, and Max would want to finish the match before then. The rectangles of sunlight had stretched far enough across the room to include the ottoman in front of the comfy chair where Lulu had napped. Roxxy squinted. Atop the flat surface of the round footrest, strands of gray-cream-black fur were visible in the slanting afternoon rays. Yes!

Maxey, said Roxxy, interrupting the heated discussion still going on between her sibs. "Let me get this straight. You’re saying you’ve gotten so big that I don’t