Read Online Rottweiler Rescue by Ellen O'Connell - Free Book Online
Authors: Ellen O'Connell
Tags: Mystery & Crime
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Stepping out of the shower, I almost tripped over Sophie, who had a sixth sense for when a shower meant imminent departure. She stuck to my side like a velcro dog, barely giving me enough room to pull on jeans and a T-shirt, hoping the power of her presence would convince me to let her come along.
Why dogs love going in the car when it means long boring waits while their human shops and runs errands, I don’t know, but there’s no mistaking the fact that they do love car rides.
As soon as Sophie realized her quest had been successful, she left my side and stood intently at the door leading from the kitchen to the garage. Robo followed us out to the car without showing any enthusiasm, but he didn’t leave room for any doors to shut in his face either.
I parked in the out of the way spot I always use at my favorite King Sooper’s on Lincoln Avenue. Long ago, after a particularly aggravating and embarrassing search for my car in a crowded parking lot, I’d come to the conclusion it was better to walk a little further to the store and always know where my car was.
The night was clear and pleasant with just the barest hint of a breeze. The dogs would be comfortable in the car with every window lowered enough to let in cool evening air but not enough for more than a nose to fit out.
Half an hour later I rolled my grocery cart full of plastic sacks through the well-lit parking lot toward my distant car, lost in speculation about the new client I was meeting the next day. As I walked into the shadows cast by a van and SUV parked side by side, a dark figure jerked me between the vehicles with a muscular arm around my throat. An involuntary yelp of pain and fright escaped from me.
“Shut up,” he hissed in my ear.
One black-clad arm was tight around my neck, dragging me backwards, the other was free to use the knife he pressed into the side of my throat, almost under my chin, forcing my head back into his chest. A thin warm line of wetness ran down my neck and soaked into my shirt.
Each breath I took was a small violation of his command for silence. He said nothing else. Maybe he never heard the little sounds that seemed so loud to me. Maybe they were drowned out by the thunderous non-stop barking echoing through the lot from my car.
Sophie had heard my first cry. Her barks were so furious they were blending together into a roar. The man kept dragging me backwards, and I instinctively knew he had a vehicle close by, and once inside it, I was dead.
A loud crack exploded in the night. A gunshot? The barking stopped. No! Oh, no! But immediately there was a shout, “What the hell... look out for those dogs!”
I couldn’t look, couldn’t turn my head, but the man behind me inhaled sharply. His left arm tightened around my neck, and he thrust the knife forward into the air as if he could ward off the charging dogs.
Then the black forms appeared out of the shadows. Their eyes reflected red in the night, and their teeth gleamed white. My captor gasped again, froze for a split second, and threw me toward the dogs.
I skidded on my hands and knees and fell into Robo, clutching him around the neck with all my strength. The distinctive slide then slam of a van door sounded nearby, then the roar of an engine.
Fear gave me the strength to lift and turn my head. Sophie was running after a dark van like a vengeful fury. At first she was clearly visible under the parking lot lights. When she turned onto the sidewalk dividing the parking lot from Lincoln Avenue, following the van west, only the headlights of cars speeding by at dog-killing speed illuminated her dark form.
“Sophie, Sophie, come!” My attempt at a scream came out of my bruised throat as a painful, hoarse croak. Would she recognize the voice as mine? Could she hear me at all?
She kept running, didn’t seem to slow. Holding Robo, who wanted to go after Sophie, trying to struggle to my feet to go after her myself, I fell again and settled for calling
Stepping out of the shower, I almost tripped over Sophie, who had a sixth sense for when a shower meant imminent departure. She stuck to my side like a velcro dog, barely giving me enough room to pull on jeans and a T-shirt, hoping the power of her presence would convince me to let her come along.
Why dogs love going in the car when it means long boring waits while their human shops and runs errands, I don’t know, but there’s no mistaking the fact that they do love car rides.
As soon as Sophie realized her quest had been successful, she left my side and stood intently at the door leading from the kitchen to the garage. Robo followed us out to the car without showing any enthusiasm, but he didn’t leave room for any doors to shut in his face either.
I parked in the out of the way spot I always use at my favorite King Sooper’s on Lincoln Avenue. Long ago, after a particularly aggravating and embarrassing search for my car in a crowded parking lot, I’d come to the conclusion it was better to walk a little further to the store and always know where my car was.
The night was clear and pleasant with just the barest hint of a breeze. The dogs would be comfortable in the car with every window lowered enough to let in cool evening air but not enough for more than a nose to fit out.
Half an hour later I rolled my grocery cart full of plastic sacks through the well-lit parking lot toward my distant car, lost in speculation about the new client I was meeting the next day. As I walked into the shadows cast by a van and SUV parked side by side, a dark figure jerked me between the vehicles with a muscular arm around my throat. An involuntary yelp of pain and fright escaped from me.
“Shut up,” he hissed in my ear.
One black-clad arm was tight around my neck, dragging me backwards, the other was free to use the knife he pressed into the side of my throat, almost under my chin, forcing my head back into his chest. A thin warm line of wetness ran down my neck and soaked into my shirt.
Each breath I took was a small violation of his command for silence. He said nothing else. Maybe he never heard the little sounds that seemed so loud to me. Maybe they were drowned out by the thunderous non-stop barking echoing through the lot from my car.
Sophie had heard my first cry. Her barks were so furious they were blending together into a roar. The man kept dragging me backwards, and I instinctively knew he had a vehicle close by, and once inside it, I was dead.
A loud crack exploded in the night. A gunshot? The barking stopped. No! Oh, no! But immediately there was a shout, “What the hell... look out for those dogs!”
I couldn’t look, couldn’t turn my head, but the man behind me inhaled sharply. His left arm tightened around my neck, and he thrust the knife forward into the air as if he could ward off the charging dogs.
Then the black forms appeared out of the shadows. Their eyes reflected red in the night, and their teeth gleamed white. My captor gasped again, froze for a split second, and threw me toward the dogs.
I skidded on my hands and knees and fell into Robo, clutching him around the neck with all my strength. The distinctive slide then slam of a van door sounded nearby, then the roar of an engine.
Fear gave me the strength to lift and turn my head. Sophie was running after a dark van like a vengeful fury. At first she was clearly visible under the parking lot lights. When she turned onto the sidewalk dividing the parking lot from Lincoln Avenue, following the van west, only the headlights of cars speeding by at dog-killing speed illuminated her dark form.
“Sophie, Sophie, come!” My attempt at a scream came out of my bruised throat as a painful, hoarse croak. Would she recognize the voice as mine? Could she hear me at all?
She kept running, didn’t seem to slow. Holding Robo, who wanted to go after Sophie, trying to struggle to my feet to go after her myself, I fell again and settled for calling
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