Snickelfritz in Love by Deirdre O'Dare www.amberallure.com/SnickelfritzInLove.html
Jan 2010 (Canine Cupid Series)
Blurb: Industrial electrician Jake has traveled too much to make a lot of friends but finally gave in to impulse and acquired Snick, a feisty rescued mini-schnauzer. Detective Boz similarly obtained Athena, a retired racing greyhound and a total lady. Both men adore their canine partners but when the dogs meet at the dog park and develop an instant love affair, all hell breaks loose. Meanwhile valuable materiel and components are vanishing from the construction site of a new medical complex where Jake is working. Boz is assigned to the case and the two must work together. Can they make this and much more work? Only the dogs know for sure.
Excerpt: Note: Boz and Jake are doing a kind of stake-out at the medical center site tonight; they patrol separately and then meet up.
Jake wasn't at the meeting place. Boz checked his watch again. He was maybe five minutes ahead of time. For a split second, he debated. Wait or go looking? His concern won out. He hesitated just long enough to orient himself as he remembered the tour Jake had given him that morning. The diagnostic center was upstairs and to the left. That was where some of the most valuable stuff was.
Moving fast now, with less caution, he raced back into the building, up the stairs and down the corridor. When he caught a whiff of disturbed air, the scent of sweat and something else, he didn't slow down. No one was here now he was sure, but someone had been, just moments before. Not Jake; someone else. It wasn't Jake's scent.
He saw the dark blur on the floor in the doorway before he reached it, a man-shape, a big man. Oh, God, be all right. Please be all right. The thought surprised him only in its intensity. This investigation was his job. If the other man had been hurt or killed, he wasn't sure he could live with himself. Jake was not trained in the crazy survival tricks of a vice detective. He was too honest and open, too trusting and even naïve.
Boz dropped into a crouch, reaching to touch Jake's shoulder. From there his hand slid to the other man's neck, feeling for a pulse. It was there, strong and steady. Okay, he's not dead or dying, at least not yet.
Jake groaned and stirred. The big man shook his head like a poll-axed steer as he pushed himself up to a sitting position.
"Sonuvabitch! Whoever hit me packed a mean wallop. Snuck up behind me, too. I'd heard something and was trying to get a quick look through the door. I saw someone, standing there in front of the window. The next thing I knew, bam, felt like a sledgehammer bashed me from behind. Now the bastards got away. Shit."
"Are you okay?" Boz had to ask, even if it was an inane question. "Give yourself a minute before you try to get up. A concussion is nothing to mess with. Where did they hit you?"
Jake raised a hand and ran it gingerly down the back of his head. "Here, just at the base of the skull, I think. That's the tender spot anyway. At the time it felt like a steel plate had hit the whole back of my head, like a truck had hit me."
"Well, we know someone was here. I'll call my back-up and get a fingerprint kit out here. We'll dust the room and see if we can pick up anything. And you can check to see if anything's missing. I figure we're safe to use a light now. They're gone and they know we're after them."
Jake growled an incoherent mumble of rage that finally shaped into words. "Fuckin' lousy bastards. I shoulda had eyes in the back of my head. Whoever got me didn't make a sound. I was listening, paying attention, or I thought I was. I guess I was too focused on the guy in the room, though."
Boz chuckled, relieved it hadn't been any worse. "Good thing you have a Swede's hard head."
He started to rise at the same instant Jake began to struggle to his feet. Somehow, they wound up grabbing at one another in an effort to find their balance. What happened next was completely unplanned, unexpected and unbelievable. They ended up wrapped in each other's arms, bodies straining together, as their mouths melded in a heated and urgent kiss.
Danger is the master aphrodisiac. Shit, I was not going to let this happen. Well, it's too late now. God, but it feels so good, so right, so necessary...
They broke apart only when they heard the sounds of Boz's back-up and the other cops' booted feet and muffled voices. Even though the bunch was speaking quietly enough, they still sounded very loud in the echoing depths of the unfinished building. The advance warning gave Boz and Jake enough time to turn away from each other, tame burgeoning erections and calm pounding hearts and gasping breath. Yet the words hung between them as if spoken, This isn't finished yet. The awareness triggered both dread and anticipation in Boz.
On the heels of that thought came another. Oh, man, I'm glad they didn't sneak up on us. Boz neither flaunted nor hid his sexual preferences. Still he was pretty sure only a few his fellow officers knew. A few more might suspect, though most of them would probably be shocked or dismayed if they found out, especially in such a way. He'd made it a rule to keep business and pleasure totally separate, in boxes as far apart as they could be. To a degree, it was the only way to survive in the cruel world of the undercover vice cop.
By the time the others reached the room, Boz had himself totally under control again. He explained the situation as tersely as possible and then directed the fingerprinting effort. He could not let the opportunity slip away, even if it would likely give them little in the way of sound leads. They went over the room carefully for prints and any other clues. The crew picked up a few things that might or might not be evidence.
Finally, there was no more to do. Boz glanced at Jake. He'd stayed patiently out of the way while the crime scene team worked, answered a few questions and now looked weary yet still quizzical when Boz met his gaze.
Boz answered the unspoken query. "Yeah, we're done here. Not much more we can do tonight anyway, what's left of it."
Jake shook his head. "I've got the mother of all headaches coming on and it's only three hours before time to come to work. I just wish I could've got my hands on one of those guys."
"We'll catch them. They'll probably be more cautious now, knowing we're onto them. I doubt they'll quit, though--too much easy money to tempt them... Since it's Sunday, no work today, is there?" He looked at Jake a bit more keenly, concerned by this small memory slip. "Say, you look a little rough. Shouldn't you get checked for a concussion?"
Jake clearly started to deny it, then hesitated. "No hospitals," he muttered. "I don't do horsepistols. I'm okay."
"I don't think so. Either I take you to the Urgent Care up on Telshore or you come home with me so I can keep an eye on you. Concussions are nothing to fool with, and I suspect you have one."
For a moment, he was sure the big man was going to protest or even refuse, but then his shoulders sagged a bit. "Okay, I'll let ya babysit me for the rest of the night."
Moving fast now, with less caution, he raced back into the building, up the stairs and down the corridor. When he caught a whiff of disturbed air, the scent of sweat and something else, he didn't slow down. No one was here now he was sure, but someone had been, just moments before. Not Jake; someone else. It wasn't Jake's scent.
He saw the dark blur on the floor in the doorway before he reached it, a man-shape, a big man. Oh, God, be all right. Please be all right. The thought surprised him only in its intensity. This investigation was his job. If the other man had been hurt or killed, he wasn't sure he could live with himself. Jake was not trained in the crazy survival tricks of a vice detective. He was too honest and open, too trusting and even naïve.
Boz dropped into a crouch, reaching to touch Jake's shoulder. From there his hand slid to the other man's neck, feeling for a pulse. It was there, strong and steady. Okay, he's not dead or dying, at least not yet.
Jake groaned and stirred. The big man shook his head like a poll-axed steer as he pushed himself up to a sitting position.
"Sonuvabitch! Whoever hit me packed a mean wallop. Snuck up behind me, too. I'd heard something and was trying to get a quick look through the door. I saw someone, standing there in front of the window. The next thing I knew, bam, felt like a sledgehammer bashed me from behind. Now the bastards got away. Shit."
"Are you okay?" Boz had to ask, even if it was an inane question. "Give yourself a minute before you try to get up. A concussion is nothing to mess with. Where did they hit you?"
Jake raised a hand and ran it gingerly down the back of his head. "Here, just at the base of the skull, I think. That's the tender spot anyway. At the time it felt like a steel plate had hit the whole back of my head, like a truck had hit me."
"Well, we know someone was here. I'll call my back-up and get a fingerprint kit out here. We'll dust the room and see if we can pick up anything. And you can check to see if anything's missing. I figure we're safe to use a light now. They're gone and they know we're after them."
Jake growled an incoherent mumble of rage that finally shaped into words. "Fuckin' lousy bastards. I shoulda had eyes in the back of my head. Whoever got me didn't make a sound. I was listening, paying attention, or I thought I was. I guess I was too focused on the guy in the room, though."
Boz chuckled, relieved it hadn't been any worse. "Good thing you have a Swede's hard head."
He started to rise at the same instant Jake began to struggle to his feet. Somehow, they wound up grabbing at one another in an effort to find their balance. What happened next was completely unplanned, unexpected and unbelievable. They ended up wrapped in each other's arms, bodies straining together, as their mouths melded in a heated and urgent kiss.
Danger is the master aphrodisiac. Shit, I was not going to let this happen. Well, it's too late now. God, but it feels so good, so right, so necessary...
They broke apart only when they heard the sounds of Boz's back-up and the other cops' booted feet and muffled voices. Even though the bunch was speaking quietly enough, they still sounded very loud in the echoing depths of the unfinished building. The advance warning gave Boz and Jake enough time to turn away from each other, tame burgeoning erections and calm pounding hearts and gasping breath. Yet the words hung between them as if spoken, This isn't finished yet. The awareness triggered both dread and anticipation in Boz.
On the heels of that thought came another. Oh, man, I'm glad they didn't sneak up on us. Boz neither flaunted nor hid his sexual preferences. Still he was pretty sure only a few his fellow officers knew. A few more might suspect, though most of them would probably be shocked or dismayed if they found out, especially in such a way. He'd made it a rule to keep business and pleasure totally separate, in boxes as far apart as they could be. To a degree, it was the only way to survive in the cruel world of the undercover vice cop.
By the time the others reached the room, Boz had himself totally under control again. He explained the situation as tersely as possible and then directed the fingerprinting effort. He could not let the opportunity slip away, even if it would likely give them little in the way of sound leads. They went over the room carefully for prints and any other clues. The crew picked up a few things that might or might not be evidence.
Finally, there was no more to do. Boz glanced at Jake. He'd stayed patiently out of the way while the crime scene team worked, answered a few questions and now looked weary yet still quizzical when Boz met his gaze.
Boz answered the unspoken query. "Yeah, we're done here. Not much more we can do tonight anyway, what's left of it."
Jake shook his head. "I've got the mother of all headaches coming on and it's only three hours before time to come to work. I just wish I could've got my hands on one of those guys."
"We'll catch them. They'll probably be more cautious now, knowing we're onto them. I doubt they'll quit, though--too much easy money to tempt them... Since it's Sunday, no work today, is there?" He looked at Jake a bit more keenly, concerned by this small memory slip. "Say, you look a little rough. Shouldn't you get checked for a concussion?"
Jake clearly started to deny it, then hesitated. "No hospitals," he muttered. "I don't do horsepistols. I'm okay."
"I don't think so. Either I take you to the Urgent Care up on Telshore or you come home with me so I can keep an eye on you. Concussions are nothing to fool with, and I suspect you have one."
For a moment, he was sure the big man was going to protest or even refuse, but then his shoulders sagged a bit. "Okay, I'll let ya babysit me for the rest of the night."
Great looking site :) And I love the idea of "canine cupids" -- looks like it's one more for my "to read" list.
ReplyDelete~Helen
Kewl, Helen and thanks! There are eight canine stories now in two print collections as well as individually in ebook form and a recent release, Smoke and ...Spots? has a dog as does an upcoming one, Rez Dogs and Scooter Trash due out in May!
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