Free Musclebound by Liza Cody Page A

Lineker.
    ‘Here!’ I yelled. ‘Ramses! Here!’
    But they didn’t come.
    ‘Shit,’ I said. ‘OK, Milo, it’s you and me, kiddo.’ Because even though he’s not much more than a whelp he’s got good ears and a nose to sniff out trouble. At least he could warn me.
    ‘Come, Milo,’ I said. ‘Home.’
    ‘Herf,’ he said, and trotted off towards the dog pen.
    ‘Not
your
home, stupid,’ I said.
    He flattened his ears and trotted on. I was on me own.
    ‘Fuck,’ I said, and I set off running, keeping low, sprinting for the Static.
    No one jumped out at me. No one stopped me. I reachedthe Static, grabbed the tyre-iron I keep by the steps and burst in through the door.
    ‘On your knees, scum,’
I shouted, ‘cos there’s an advantage to going in loud. But no one did doodle. And that’s because there was no one there to do doodle.
    I snatched up my torch and switched it on. Then I searched. There was no one in the kitchenette, no one in the shower-stall or bedroom. No one there at all. And as far as I could see no one had come inside.
    ‘OK,’ I said. ‘Where the fuck are you?’
    I went outside, torch in one hand, tyre-iron in the other. All I could hear was the dogs going ape over the other side of the yard. But first I went to the dog pen.
    Milo was outside looking wet and pitiful like he wanted to get in and go to bed. I pushed him out the way. I was narked with him.
    ‘Stay!’ I said. But when I went into the shed he followed me.
    The Puma bag was still nailed to the wall. It was still full. I let my breath out with a big hiss.
    ‘Safe,’ I said. Keeping hold of your stash is hair-raising work.
    ‘Hip?’ said Milo.
    ‘Hip yourself,’ I said. I wasn’t quite so narked now. But I pulled Milo out of the shed and made him come with me. He didn’t want to, but I made him. I couldn’t let him bunk off the action.
    There was action. I could hear it. That creepy
rrr-argh
from Ramses said there was something going down.
    At first I thought him and Lineker had someone trapped in one of the dead motors. But as I got closer I thought they’d killed him. They had something down on the ground and they were worrying the life out of it.
    Let ‘em, I thought – that’ll teach the bugger. But then I thought, no, that’ll bring the shite on my head for sure. It ain’t fair, but the Law puts your dogs down if they kill or maim anyone. Even if it’s his fault and they’re only doing their job. You’d think a person could protect her stuff any old way, wouldn’t you? You wouldif you had a single brain in your head. But you’d be wrong. ‘Cos the Law ain’t got a single brain in its head and what the Law says goes. There’s natural justice and then there’s the Law and, believe, the two don’t even shake hands.
    So I said, ‘Ramses, Lineker, back off.’ And then I shouted it, ‘cos this really was the dogs’ day for doing their own thing and they weren’t listening.
    ‘Stop,’ I yelled. ‘
Sit:
And in the end they did as they was told I yelled. ‘
Sit.’
And in the end they did as they was told.
    Then I went forward and saw that what they was tearing at wasn’t human. It was an empty padded anorak. I was quite disappointed – all me nerves going jingle-jangle for sod-all.
    The bugger who’d cut my chain and broke in had been chased off and left his coat behind. He had to leave his coat – it was either that or leave his arm. The coat arm had a tattered gash right through it and the edges were stained red.
    First off, I sat the dogs down and checked them out to make sure it wasn’t their blood. I don’t know why I bothered. None of them dogs would’ve won a medal for obedience that night. They was pissing me off, and that’s a fact.
    ‘You’re really pissing me off,’ I said to Ramses, because if there’s a ringleader it’s him. And I clouted him to make him sit still. ‘You want to go back to basic training? You want that, eh?’
    ‘Rragh!’ he went, giving me the