trunk of the car. If she didn’t get another coffee soon, she was going to lose it.
“A small problem?” she asked.
“Yeah, ah, Trish has a dog,” he replied. “I bought her a dog for protection after, well, you know. Mostly to help her feel safe again. He hasn’t been fed since yesterday, and he’s probably locked outside.”
Gabi kept back the frustrated growl but allowed a sigh to escape. It was apparently going to be one of those days. “Is there anyone you can ask to dog-sit for a few days?” she asked, knowing the answer already. Everyone knew she couldn’t ignore an animal in need.
“Well, I’ve been wracking my brain, but I don’t really know her friends. I’m not sure she even has any after Brendan.” The name was ground out through clenched teeth. “None of my friends live close enough to go and feed him or have enough room in their own places to have a Rottweiler stay over.”
“A Rottweiler?” Gabi repeated, wishing immediately that she was driving Kyle’s van instead of her beloved Mustang. Yep, definitely one of those days. “I hope he’s good at being squished into small spaces,” she said in resignation, pointing a thumb at the miniscule excuse for a back seat. “And he’s going to have to stay in one of the runs at the house. They’re large enough for big cats, so he’ll be comfortable until we can make other arrangements for him.”
“He’s very well trained,” Derek assured her. “He won’t run off or anything.”
“I have a cat,” she reminded him. Almost everyone knew about Razor.
“Oh, he’s good with cats, too. Trish sometimes cat-sits for a work colleague, and he’s never tried to hurt that cat.”
“It’s not the cat I’m worried about,” Gabi told him darkly.
As Gabi negotiated the slow-moving, rush-hour traffic, she made phone calls. First to Kyle, checking if he’d made it to HQ and filling him in on Derek’s visitors and the fight. He sounded concerned and told her to get to her house and stay put until he talked things over with Alistair. He hadn’t heard about any change of Pack leader status, and a rogue Pack loose in the City was a serious matter.
Next she called Byron to tell him what had happened, she had to tell him about the skirmish with the Werewolves in case someone in the neighbourhood had seen and reported it. Byron was the expert at damage control.
“Trust you to take on six Werewolves with a garden rake, Gabrielle.” He sounded a little exasperated.
“It was that or Nex ,” she grumbled back. “I didn’t feel like the paperwork from an unsanctioned kill.”
Byron snorted a laugh. “I wonder if the Alpha has any idea that he owes his life to paperwork. Give me the licence numbers, and I’ll see if they lead anywhere.”
By the time she had finished the call to Byron, Derek had fallen into a light doze, and Gabi let him sleep until they arrived at Trish’s house.
Gabi sent Derek to collect the dog food and other dog paraphernalia and find towels to protect her car seats while she went to the rear garden and found the dog. His name was Roman, which seemed to suit him. He was a beautiful example of the breed. If Derek had chosen him, he had a good eye. A well-bred Rottweiler was a fantastic pet: naturally protective, highly intelligent and with just the right amount of liveliness. She was relieved to see that not all the playfulness had been trained out of Roman, as was sometimes the case with highly trained big dogs. He rushed to greet her with enthusiastic, tail-wagging excitement. She had that effect on dogs. It was going to be tricky keeping him calm in the car with Derek in the front seat, though. Dogs have a natural aversion to Werewolves ; they seem to sense the greater predator. It made Gabi wonder what their attitude towards Vampires was.
Roman emitted a low, keening whine the entire trip to Gabi’s house, huddling as far on Gabi’s
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