Here’s a new episode in the blog series, FIRST CHAPTERS. It’s the first exciting chapters in each book in the Micah Reed series! Expect a new one each week.
To get this book, click here. To see all posts in the First Chapter series, click here.
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THE DOG AT the end of the leash glowered at Micah. He hadn’t been aware dogs could frown, but this one had mastered the expression. Some odd telepathy seemed to link the two of them, but Micah had no idea what the hell the dog was trying to say.
Micah Reed, eying the Bullmastiff, tilted his head toward his friend Layne. “Something isn’t right about this. I don’t think this dog respects me.”
Layne sighed and pressed the crosswalk button on Colfax Avenue. He rested his hands on his hips, making his broad shoulders seem bulbous. Layne always looked like he was wearing shoulder pads.
“Probably not, man. You’re not doing a very good job of asserting yourself.”
“Asserting myself? Like, I should tell him about my achievements and my life goals?”
“Sure, he might appreciate hearing the perspective of a grown-up. He’s just a pup.”
“That’s my point,” Micah said. “I’m thirty-one, so I think he might see through it.”
Layne laughed as the light changed and they crossed toward Vine Street. Cars whizzed by, the sun reflecting off metal and beaming light like laser beams in all directions. Saturday pedestrians herded like cattle along the sidewalks.
The muscular and black-snouted Bullmastiff on the end of the leash pulled and lurched toward the other side of the street, and Micah let himself be tugged over to the sidewalk. What choice did he have?
Denver’s oppressive August midday heat sent a bead of sweat across Layne’s buzzed blond hair and then trickled down his cheek. He wiped it off with a tattooed forearm and helped Micah usher the dog from one side of the street to the other. Micah rarely compared himself to other men, but he felt downright scrawny standing next to his brutish friend. Same with the dog; the Mastiff looked like he could kick Micah’s ass pretty easily, too.
Once on Vine, Layne knelt in front of the dog. Looked at it head-on. The flow of pedestrians bent around them like two rocks in the center of a stream.
Layne held the dog’s gaze for several seconds in silence. “Eddard, sit.”
The slobber-mouthed dog immediately dropped its hindquarters. Micah watched in awe of his friend’s command of such a wild beast.
Then, Layne stood and waved a hand up, and the dog rose to its feet again. “Okay. You try. Age has nothing to do with it. I’m almost forty, and this dog doesn’t question my orders.”
“Do I have to call him Eddard? It’s such a weird name. I mean, no offense.”
“You still haven’t read the book yet, have you?”
“No, sorry. I will, though. Soon.”
Layne shrugged. “It’s no sweat off my sack. You can call him Ned if you like.”
Micah positioned himself in front of the dog. He had to swing the leash around since it was attached to his hand. The leash end threaded over his thumb and around his palm, almost like a glove. Extra secure.
Micah squared his shoulders. Felt his heart thumping, but told himself to project confidence and the dog would do whatever he said. “Eddard, sit.”
The dog looked up at him, that same frown on his massive face. Big brown eyes plump and curious. Over the next few seconds, the frown did not soften.
“This isn’t working,” Micah said.
Layne chuckled again and waved them forward. “It’s okay. Give it time. You’ve got all week.”
“I’m not sure if I’m cut out for dog sitting,” Micah said as they strolled along Vine Street, on a slight incline. “Is there someone else you can get?”
“Sorry, man. You’re all I got.”
Micah sighed and accepted his fate as the keeper of Layne’s dog for the next seven days while Layne would work a security consulting contract out of town. Micah wasn’t even sure if dogs were allowed in his condo, but he figured as long as no one saw the dog going in or out, he’d be fine.
“How is work?” Layne said. “Frank keeping you busy?”
Before Micah could answer, a squirrel darted from a tree onto the sidewalk. Eddard’s ears pointed up, his tail flicked into a curl, and his body tensed. Then he burst forward. The leash—attached to Micah’s hand—also shot straight forward, and Micah lost his balance. The force of the dog’s lunge dragged him down onto the sidewalk.
Micah had been in favor of using this leash since Eddard wouldn’t be able to squirt away from him. But it also meant if Eddard went somewhere, Micah was along for the ride.
“Whoa,” Layne said. “Easy there. Looks like he caught you by surprise with that one.”
Micah pulled back against the dog, whimpering and whining against the leash. Frantically longing for the squirrel, now high in the tree.
Micah used the tension on the leash to pull himself to his feet. Panting, he said, “how do you deal with that?”
“Just be ready for it. He’s a Bullmastiff. He wants to chase things, so you have to know when to give him some slack and when to muscle-up and hold him back.”
Micah didn’t know if the gym had any machines to strengthen a shoulder socket. Probably not. Once he’d caught his breath, Micah continued up Vine, then they turned the next corner, deeper into a neighborhood. The foot traffic faded away, few cars now passing along the one-way streets.
“Security consulting?” Micah said.
“Say what?”
“Your gig. The reason you’re going out of town.”
“It is,” Layne said as they crossed the street into the wide open greenery of Cheesman Park. “Your boss actually hooked me up with the job. University of Kansas is looking to install new biometric locks in some of their dorms.”
“Fancy.”
“Yep,” Layne said. “It sure is fancy. I told them I didn’t think it was a good use of their funding, and they disagreed with me. But, as long as the check cashes, I’ll install whatever they want.”
“Wait,” Micah said. He used his untethered hand to check around to his back pocket. Wallet was gone.
“What is it?”
“I think I dropped my wallet. Hang on, one sec.”
Micah tugged Eddard to come with him as he doubled back to the far side of the street, opposite the park. Layne stood where he was, tapping his foot, waiting.
Micah spotted his brown leather wallet sitting in the grass of someone’s front yard. As he bent down to pick it up, from behind him came the sound of tires screeching.
A black, full-size van careened along, way over the speed limit, coming within inches of sideswiping the cars parked along the street. Layne stood barely inside the park, right next to the sidewalk, and they both turned to watch this truck swerve along the road.
Then it passed Micah and screeched to a halt only a few feet from Layne.
“What the hell?” Micah said.
But he didn’t have time to get an answer from Layne. The back door of the van popped open and out jumped three figures wearing black pantyhose over their heads. FNX-45 Tactical pistols in their hands, topped with noise suppressors. Judging by the shape of their faces, there were two men and one woman, although the woman was as muscular as the other two.
Rushing straight at Layne. They hadn’t seen Micah.
The following scrum would last only fifteen or twenty seconds total. Anyone watching might have heard the gunshots or seen a blur of clothing and some kind of struggle, but Micah would recall it all, beat for beat, for the rest of his life. He would always feel every detail of seeing his friend gunned down in the street next to the park.
Eddard barked. Layne reached a hand toward the back of his pants. Micah scarcely had time to register that Layne was reaching for a gun before a barrage of noise-suppressed bullets ejected from one pistol, toward Layne. Micah watched three separate shots hit Layne in the chest. Tiny puffs of red misted into the air.
The shots echoed across the park. Layne spun and sank to the ground, his body performing a twist like a ballerina before he folded and landed face-first.
“No!” Micah shouted.
The three assailants turned in his direction. All three of them cast their eyes down, toward the dog tethered to Micah’s hand. And then they came at him.
Eddard was howling, pulling, snarling at the woman rushing toward Micah. Micah’s arm wrenched forward as Eddard bucked against the end of his leash.
One of them lifted a gun and pulled the trigger. The shot whiffed by Micah’s head, making him duck. He could discern the shape of a nose underneath the pantyhose, the darkness of a set of eyes. This nearest man was white, with dark hair. Eyes down, not looking at Micah directly.
They weren’t going for him. They were trying to get at the dog.
Micah reared back and punched this closest man in the jaw, knocking him back a step. Micah hadn’t brought a gun out for the afternoon walk like Layne had.
Layne.
He was on the ground, shot. Micah yearned to rush to him. See if he was still alive. Maybe if he called in the next few seconds, he could get an ambulance in time.
But Micah didn’t even have a chance to turn his head in that direction. The female attacker was on him, but she wasn’t grappling with Micah. They were snatching at the dog, trying to grab him by the collar.
Eddard, being his usual uncooperative self, growled and snapped and tried his best to bite off the hand of the woman wrestling with him. The Bullmastiff’s powerful jaw clamped down on a thumb, smearing blood across his jowls. The attacker screamed and wrenched her hand back. Left a trail of blood and dog spit between them.
Another man finally secured a handful of Eddard’s neck fur and lifted his pistol toward Micah’s chest. Micah used his free hand to swipe it away, knocking it to the ground. The man tugged toward the van. But, when he tugged, Micah also lurched in that direction, because of the leash securely wrapped around Micah’s palm. He couldn’t simply let go. He would actually have to unclasp the thing.
Micah got in another blow, this time knifing the edge of his hand against where he guessed the man’s ear was, underneath the pantyhose. A second nearby attacker whipped his pistol up, connecting the barrel with Micah’s chin. Dazed him for a moment.
The man lowered the gun toward Micah’s head, and Micah jumped at him, throwing a shoulder into the man’s chest.
The first attacker jerked Eddard by the fur, and Micah took another involuntary step forward. The man now seemed to realize how the leash was attached as he dragged Eddard toward the van and Micah went along with them, doing everything he could not to trip over his feet. Trying to fight back, but losing.
The man Micah had not punched grabbed hold of Micah’s arm and pushed him toward the van. Bringing Micah and Eddard together.
As they all tumbled into the back of the van and the door shut behind him, Micah stole one last look through the van window. His friend Layne Parrish, lying face-down in the middle of the street. Blood pooling underneath his abdomen.
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To get this book, click here. To see all posts in the First Chapter series, click here.