Free Lucky Dog by Lauren Carr

Lucky Dog
    A Mac Faraday Mystery Short
    By
    Lauren Carr
    Copyright Protected
     
    This is going to be your day, you lucky dog.
    Lance Collins admired the clear blue sky overhead before pulling his black Ferrari into the last empty parking space. He took it being directly across from the Spencer Inn Sports Club staff entrance as a sign. Rarely was such a prime slot vacant at ten o’clock in the morning.
    Things are finally going my way.
    Fighting to keep down the wicked laugh bubbling its way to his lips, Lance grabbed his athletic bag and tennis racquet from the passenger seat and stepped out of his car.
    The feeling of good fortune took a dip when the hair on the back of his neck rose to attention. He turned around to find the source of suspicion in the form of a German shepherd eying him from the front seat of a red Dodge Viper in the carte blanche of parking spaces—that reserved for the Spencer Inn’s owner, Mac Faraday.
    “What are you looking at?”
    The shepherd narrowed his eyes into a glare.
    “Mutt.”
    The dog’s snout twitched. His lips rose into a snarl.
    “My younger brother used to have a dog just like you.” Lance waved the racquet in his hand. “He bit me. You know what I did to him?”
    The shepherd bore his teeth.
    “I backed over him with my car … on purpose. When they found him flattened in the road, I cried along with everyone else. No one ever knew.” Lance’s voice dropped to a harsh whisper. “Take that as a warning, Gnarly. If I ever catch you in my sights, I won’t be tapping the brakes to slow down—I’ll be hitting the gas pedal.”
    Gnarly jumped up in his seat to lunge at him with snarling barks. Lance seized the opportunity to club him over the head with the tennis racquet. To the attacker’s surprise, the dog dodged the blow before leaping back to clamp down on the racquet with his jaws.
    “Give me that, you son of a bitch.”
    Keeping his grip on the handle, Lance pulled back in an attempt to retrieve his racquet while Gnarly shook his head like a predator snapping the neck of it’s prey. The dog’s teeth tore through the strings in the head of racquet.
    When it became apparent that he was losing the tug-of-war, Lance resorted to pounding his adversary on top of the head with his fist. “You damn son of it bitch. I’m going to kill you.”
    Gnarly dropped the racquet to respond with barks that sounded like his own canine version of curses and threats. Lance was in mid-lunge for the dog’s throat when he was pulled back by the shoulder.
    “What do you think you’re doing?” Mac Faraday yanked him back to step into the midst of the fight. The sight of his dog being attacked prompted him to take on an assertive nature that the tennis instructor had never seen coming from the former homicide detective turned inn owner—thanks to an unexpected inheritance from his birth mother.
    Wish I was an illegitimate bastard to a rich, world-famous mystery writer.
    “Your dog attacked me.” Lance held up his shredded tennis racquet. “Look at what he did. This is a three-hundred-dollar racquet. How do you expect me to give lessons to guests with equipment in this condition?”
    “Maybe next time you’ll think about that before trying to hit my dog with it.”
    Lance swore he could see the German shepherd with his tongue hanging out of his mouth laughing at him behind Mac’s back. Reminding himself that Mac had the power to fire him—and probably would—even if he was a favorite among the female patrons, Lance’s jaw clinched. “With all due respect, Mac, your dog came after me.”
    “And grabbed your racquet out of your hand to chew it to bits?”
    “Exactly.”
    “All this without leaving the car?” Mac crossed his arms across his chest. “He jumped out of the car, swiped your racquet out of your hand, and then jumped back into the car to shred it?”
    “You shouldn’t be leaving such a vicious dog alone in your car like that,” Lance warned. “Someone could get