Hans had never bitten a human before. It was a concept disciplined out of him when he was very young. So young, in fact, that he didn’t remember it, only that it was a terrible thing for a dog to do. Now was the right time to overrule that instruction which he did by sinking his teeth into the human’s ankle as he tried to get up.
Eugene cried out in pain. He saw the German Shepherd coming and shut off every other thought other than escape. He had to get to the van! When the bite came, he’d been telling himself to expect it and to fight to get free. He could be stitched up later, but there was something wrong with the bite he felt and when he swung his free leg around to kick the large dog away, it connected with thin air.
Hans ripped his head from side to side, yanking at the human’s flesh and growling for all he was worth. He would show the wolf just what a smaller dog was capable of.
On the other side of the van, Francis grabbed the driver’s door handle, yanked it open and dove inside. He tugged the door closed and whipped his feet out of the way so it would slam shut. Half a heartbeat later, something heavy smashed into the other side of the door.
He’d made it! Now he could get out of here, running the old man and the dog over if he got a chance. Francis had no idea where Eugene had gone. Since the dog was chasing him, it clearly hadn’t gone after Eugene, so why wasn’t his partner in the van?
When the dog’s head appeared at the driver’s side window, barking insanely and suggesting that he might bite through the glass or just rip the door open with its teeth if he hung around, Francis gave up on Eugene and grabbed for the ignition key.
It wasn’t there!
Outside on the wet ground, Eugene rolled around so he could look down the length of his body. It wasn’t the great brute of a German Shepherd at all. He was being mauled by a sausage dog! It hurt like the blazes, but if Francis saw him, he’d never live it down.
Hans threw his body from side to side again, but so focussed in his efforts was he, that he failed to see the human lining up to kick him. The boot caught his right shoulder, shooting him across the carpark and into a barrel roll as he lost control and chose to go with it. He landed right way up, and though he felt dizzy and disorientated, he flipped back onto his feet and ran back into the fight.
Eugene was moving the moment the dog’s teeth left his flesh. Driving up from the ground like a sprinter coming out of their blocks, he had only a scant handful of yards to cover to get to the van and safety. Stuff the earl’s instructions to bring Victor Harris back. He could send someone else. This mission was a bust already.
In the van, Francis looked around hopelessly. He needed the key and his stupid partner, Eugene, probably had them in the pocket of his trousers. What on Earth was his next move? The dog was still barking like crazy and the old man was on his phone; Francis could see it illuminating the old man’s face at the edge of the courtyard. It didn’t take a genius to work out that the police would be here soon. Where on Earth was Eugene with the keys?
Rex had hurt his face when he slammed into the van’s closing door, but the taste of blood in his mouth was just fuelling his desire to bite someone. He barked threats and promises at the human just inches away on the other side of the glass, but he couldn’t get to him. Or so the human clearly thought, but when Rex spied an opportunity, he stopped barking and started running again.
Eugene slammed into the passenger’s side of the van, fumbling for the door handle now slippery with rain and the mud and crud on his fingers. He’d given the little dachshund a mighty kick to its head, sending it five yards across the carpark. His intention had been to kill it with one blow, but the tough little blighter was already coming back for seconds; barking and growling his evil intentions. Eugene figured he had about a second and a half before the dog was on his ankle again and it was already sticky with blood from the last attack. Maybe if Francis hadn’t seen it, he could say it was a bulldog; those are low to the ground too, but a mite tougher sounding than a sausage dog.
He ripped the door open, landing inside in the dry, safe interior. He was out of breath and shaking from the adrenalin surging through his body, but he hadn’t expected Francis to grab his lapels before his backside had even come to rest on the seat.
‘Where are the keys?’ screamed Francis, getting into Eugene’s face. He wanted to know where his fool partner had been but there was no time for a Q and A session. They needed to leave now!
Sensing the urgency Francis felt, Eugene squirmed around to get his hand into his trouser pocket but came up empty. This started a frantic patting session as he explored all the possible places the keys might be, certain in his head that he’d put the keys in his front right trouser pocket where he always kept them.
‘Come on!’ yelled Francis, but a worried glance showed them both where the keys were: they were outside on the ground in the rain.
‘They must have fallen out when the dog got me!’ Eugene wailed in despair.
Francis couldn’t believe his idiot colleague had the nerve to
