Free Heat: An Alpha Male Criminal Romance (A Hotter Than Hell Novel Book 1) by Holly S. Roberts Page B

Big without his owner that I decided to find a temporary home for him. Bill isn’t all there mentally and hasn’t been for a long time. I’ve seen shoplifters walk away from court with a slap on the wrist. Bill was one of the unfortunate ones who had a sucky lawyer and a prior.
    Bill is sitting in the shade cast by the side of a building on a pile of flattened out boxes to keep his ass from burning on the hot pavement. Big is snuggled up beside him with his head buried between Bill’s shirt and the wall. An old filthy towel covers Bill’s head. He’ll go to the park in the late afternoon and stay there as long as he can. It gives Big a chance to roam. I’m catching them both at naptime.
    I park about ten yards away and approach slowly. I disregard Bill’s stale scent. “Hi, Bill, how are you? Remember me, Mak, kinda like Big Mac?” He watches me from beneath the towel. I’m holding a gallon of water, the McDonald’s bag, and the plain brown paper bag all in my left hand.
    Strong hand empty—always. I plan to never break the habit. I hold the heavy weight up with my good arm and get the, “Yea, yea, yea,” I desire.
    I place the items on the ground a foot away so Bill can reach them. He decides when to look inside the bags, not me. He immediately scoops the bags up and moves them closer. I crouch down. “How’s Big?”
    “Sokay,” he mumbles.
    “One of those Big Macs is for Big and one for you. I hope you’ll eat it, Bill.”
    “Sokay.”
    “You want me to wet down the towel for your head?” I ask gently.
    He takes it off and hands it to me. His arm is coated in filth, the skin rough and patchy. The towel smells worse than he does, but I expected that. I don’t see lice crawling on it and it wouldn’t matter if they were. It’s part of the job—never let them see your emotions unless it’s calculated. Keep a level tone and take disgust and fear out of the equation. I wet the towel with the bottled water and hand it back. Bill puts it over his head and peers from under it again.
    “I’m looking for some street info, Bill. Have you heard about bad things happening in the neighborhood?”
    His body goes tense. I wish I could see his eyes. I leave the question hanging without rushing him. Finally, he responds, “No good, yea, yea, yea, no good.”
    This is actually more than he usually gives me. “What’s no good, Bill?”
    “Bad, bad. No good. Yea, yea, yea.”
    “What about Kennedy? You hear anything about Officer Kennedy?”
    Bill moves fast. He picks up his items from the ground and places them in his shopping cart. He puts Big in the cart too. I don’t say a word when he takes the water, booze, and McDonald’s bag. I back up and watch him wheel the old squeaky cart away.
    Sweat drips down my brow and my tee is soaked. My brown BDUs are damp too. I need water, so I walk back to Sally for my water bottle. It was completely frozen when I left the apartment earlier. It’s lukewarm now. I take a healthy swallow.
    I search for Mama Kane for an hour, but I can’t find her. A homeless man I’m unfamiliar with tells me she’s at Veterans hospital. Her goat went with animal control. I head to the hospital and receive bad news. Someone assaulted Mama Kane and she’s in critical condition. A nurse tells me that no one has visited her and that I’m the first to ask how she’s doing.
    It’s so incredibly sad. As a cop, I was limited in what I could do. The homeless are considered a problem. It was my job to keep them in line. Don’t get me wrong, I helped where I could. It’s never enough, though.
    The nurse tells me that the cops want to know when she dies. This should make me angry, but I know it means the detectives have a suspect. If Mama Kane dies, the charges will change to include homicide. The nurse doesn’t know anything about the goat.
    I leave the hospital and swing back into Sunnyslope to head to the Humane Society, which is off Hatcher. My friend Kelsy works there. I love