Mutts Like Me Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Mutts Like Me

  Keri Armstrong

  Highland Publishing, LLC

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  Mutts Like Me

  The Awakening Series, Book 1

  Copyright  2016 Keri Armstrong

  Highland Publishing, LLC

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  For permission requests, email: [email protected]

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Front cover image: Sterling Design Studios

  Mutts Like Me/ Keri Armstrong. -- 1st ed.

  Getting kidnapped by a sexy shapeshifter wasn’t on my holiday wish list.

  Finding my father was.

  But now it seems the two will go hand-in-hand, if I can just survive long enough to learn the truth about what happened to my dad, and not be distracted by the silver-eyed fox that kidnapped me.

  Oh, and not get eaten by dragons along the way.

  Dedication

  To Emily:

  You finally get your “Mutt” story.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Excerpt from The Awakening Series

  Mutts Like Me Character Bios

  Dear Reader

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Grandma was drunk again. And not just some slightly tipsy, old lady, isn’t-she-cute, drunk. She was falling down on her ass, mean, incoherent, tempting-me-to-toss-her-out-into-the-snow-to-get-run-over-by-a-reindeer drunk.

  Except there weren’t too many reindeer in Chicago. Lots of snow, though. Maybe I’d get lucky and a deer would wander by?

  Nah…. Besides, awful as she was, she was the only family I had. My mom died almost ten years ago when I had just turned eight, I didn’t know who my dad was, and there was no other family as far as I knew. Just me and a mean, drunk granny.

  And the occasional social worker.

  That thought was enough to make me try to help the old woman sober up. I didn’t want to go into temporary care just days before my eighteenth birthday. I carefully approached where she was on the floor, crawling on her hands and knees, dressed all in black and looking so much like an angry bear that I almost laughed.

  I leaned down next to her, and was hit with a waft of whiskey, oranges, and cigarettes. “Grandma, let me help you up.”

  She slapped away my outstretched hand. “Don’t need no damn help.”

  I tried again, using a softer tone. “C’mon, Gram, let’s sit on the couch and look at the pretty lights.”

  She tilted her head and I could see one eye blinking up at me through her wild tangle of hair.

  I nodded and tried to give an encouraging smile, pointing toward the forlorn-looking Christmas tree we’d decorated the day before. Charlie Brown’s little tree had nothing on this baby. It was an old artificial tree that I’d rescued from a dumpster a couple years before, when I was determined to have my own Christmas tree, for once. I don’t know why I kept dragging it out every year—the only ornaments were ones I’d made from paper and aluminum foil, and I’d only been able to buy one strand of lights—but somehow, in spite of the fact that Santa never visited our house, it still made me feel good to see it. And strangely enough, it had the same effect on the old woman. She’d even sobered up enough this year to help me cut out paper snowflakes to add to it.

  We’d put the tree in the living room next to the futon that served as both our sofa and my bed. I pointed to it again. “See the pretty lights? And the pretty snowflakes you made?”

  Blink, blink.

  “Let me help you over to the sofa and we can sit together, okay? Do you want me to rub your feet?”

  Her head dropped down, mumbling something I couldn’t understand. I reached out again, and this time she didn’t shake me off.

  Grandma wasn’t very tall, but she was plenty round, so it was a stretch for me to put my arms around her. I tried to pull her up and only managed to topple us both. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, and when I looked down and saw that she had passed out, I did both.

  I sat on the floor next to her, watching the colored lights blur through my tears until my back ached and my eyes burned so badly I knew I had to go to bed. I walked quietly into her bedroom, grabbed a pillow and blanket then tried to get her comfortable on the floor before climbing into the futon and pulling my own blanket over my head. I was too tired to even say my nightly prayer—the one I’d prayed for ten years, the one that had never been answered—the one where I begged that whoever my father was, he’d come rescue me.

  “Happy flippin’ holidays,” I mumbled.

  Just as I was dozing off, I heard a skittering noise then a soft snuffling sound. I opened my eyes under the covers, listening carefully for a moment, then closed them again when I didn’t hear anything else. Maybe a mouse had passed by and interrupted grandma’s snoring? I was too tired to care. I pulled the blankets tighter around my head and gave in to sleep, never imagining that my life could change forever.

  It was the odor that woke me—something animal-like that overpowered the usual alcohol and B.O. smell of my grandmother. Gagging, I opened my eyes to look at Gram.

  And screamed.

  “Shh.” The stranger standing over her body put a finger up to his lips.

  I drew another breath and he was on me so fast I didn’t see it coming.

  His hand clamped over my mouth. “Be quiet, Marti,” he whispered. “Trust me, you don’t want to wake the neighbors.”

  My entire body shook and my morning bladder started to release.

  He must have felt it because he jumped, taking me with him, and ran toward the bathroom.

  “Don’t scream. Your father sent me,” he said as shoved me into the bathroom and shut the door.

  My father?

  My mouth hung open as two things occurred to me at once: whoever the guy was, he was gorgeous… and
pee was dripping down my leg.

  My hands trembled violently as I locked the door behind me and then felt guilty because my grandmother was still on the floor out there. Scattered thoughts whirled as I frantically looked around the room for some type of weapon, not knowing whether to clean myself off first or try to fight my way past him.

  Should I scream again?

  It was doubtful anyone would hear, or even care if they did hear. The low-rent housing complex we lived in was known for people yelling all hours of the day and night.

  There would be no going through the window, either. We were three floors up, and the window was one of those old, louvered glass types that just opened out to the brick wall of the next building, two feet away.

  A small lighter on the back of the toilet caught my eye. Gran must have left it there, but what could I do with it? I looked around the room wildly before a can of hairspray snagged my attention.

  Yes!

  Combined with the lighter, it could do as a makeshift blowtorch. It was a stretch, but it was the best I had at the moment. I quickly slipped out of my wet pants and wiped down before putting on the bathrobe I kept on the back of the door. I wished I had some other pants to put on; it felt too vulnerable going back out with just a t-shirt and robe. I opened the linen closet and sifted through some dirty clothes in the small basket inside. I’d washed clothes yesterday so all I could find of mine was an old, ripped, dirty pair of granny-panties that I wore as a last-resort on laundry day. It was gross, but no way was I going back out there bare-assed.

  I tugged the shirt down around my hips as best I could, wrapped the robe around me, and tied it tightly before slipping the hairspray and lighter into the pocket. Just for good measure, I flushed the toilet then turned on the sink tap to account for the time I was spending.

  I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and grimaced at the old, smeared makeup. Disbelieving of my own vanity, I rinsed my face and ran a shaky hand over my hair. I mean, the guy was gorgeous… and what had he said… my father sent him? Plus, he’d called me Marti. Only Gran and my mom had ever called me that nickname for my given name, Maritza.

  It was still quiet out there as I splashed my hands around the sink and even brushed my teeth, being sure to make lots of innocent sounding noises as I quickly considered the situation.

  The guy was a stranger. It was certain I’d never seen him before, because I would have remembered. He was tall, handsome, mixed race of some sort—a bit Asian looking—with long, blue-streaked dark hair and weirdly silver-gray eyes, but still clearly a mutt, like me. My own mixed heritage showed in my tan skin and too curly hair. Afro-Cuban on my mom’s side, Mexican-American/Caucasian on my dad’s.

  The sexy but scary stranger outside my door spoke, causing me to jump and stop musing. “Marti, please come out. We have to hurry,” he whispered urgently.

  Hurry? To what? My doom?

  But he had said please…

  So, a polite psycho? I shook my head to clear it and shoved my hand into the pocket containing the hairspray, gripping the can while I palmed the lighter in the hand I used to open the door. I flipped the lock and warily peeked out.

  He backed up to let me exit then sniffed as I came out.

  My face burned as I wondered if I still smelled like urine, but had no time to consider further as he suddenly shoved me against the wall and tore both the lighter and hairspray away from me in a move so fast I couldn’t track it. I could only hear the rattling sound as my lone weapons rolled down the hallway.

  His hand covered my mouth as he bent his face toward mine. I could have almost sworn I saw a hint of admiration in his silver eyes.

  “I told you, I’m not here to hurt you,” he said. “If I move my hand, do you promise to listen?”

  I nodded as best I could. He moved back and I took a stuttering breath. “Who are you?” I asked.

  He reached for my arm. “It’s a long story, and we don’t have time. Come with me and I’ll tell you on the way.”

  “On the way where?” My voice shook as I remembered having read that the chances of survival were greatly decreased if an attacker tried to move you to another location.

  He made an impatient sound and reached for me. “Let’s just go before the police show up.”

  I backed up, shaking my head, took a deep breath, and screamed for all I was worth. “Gran!”

  The sound quickly cut off as he twisted me around and pressed an arm to my throat.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered as silvery spots danced at the edges of my vision. My world turned gray just before everything went dark.

  Chapter Two

  The voices slowly seeped in.

  “Bro, you didn’t kill her, did you?”

  Warm fingers prodded my neck.

  “Pulse is steady.”

  I kept my eyes shut, trying to breathe evenly as consciousness crept in. It almost worked until I realized not only were my hands and feet bound together, my mouth was taped shut. My lids flew open and I wriggled frantically, trying to free my limbs as another unknown male face stared into mine.

  The new guy stepped back as I kicked out my bound legs. I tried to scream, but it was useless behind the tape. Since I’d been propped sitting against the wall, all I managed to do was make squeaking noises and topple over onto the floor.

  “Easy now, you’re okay,” the new guy said.

  I glared up at him, noticing he wasn’t alone. The bastard who’d choked and kidnapped me was there, as was a pretty but tough-looking girl who was throwing some serious shade my way.

  The kidnapper knelt just out of reach of my feet. “Maritza, you are going to be all right. I’ll explain everything in minute.”

  I thrust out my duct-taped hands and made the most menacing noises I could behind a gagged mouth.

  New Guy behind him laughed, while the girl just snorted and twisted her lips as if I were pathetic.

  I narrowed my gaze at her. Maybe I was pathetic at the moment, but once I was free….

  A slow smile crossed her face, her eyes issuing a silent challenge: Bring it.

  Cute Kidnapper frowned at his companions.

  Other Guy just laughed. “Whatsa matter, T? Got your hands full?”

  Mean Girl rolled her eyes. “Hardly. Smells like she pissed herself to me.”

  My face burned. But even as embarrassed and scared as I was, that bitch was really starting work my nerves. Sure, she’d probably kick my ass—she was a good six inches taller than I was, with biceps-by-Michelle-Obama gleaming out of her tank top—but I’d still like a chance at her. I could at least rip out some of those curls that I bet she’s proud of.

  The thought must have shown on my face because the new guy grinned at me with what looked like twin gleams of approval and mischief in his eyes. I ignored him and focused on my kidnapper, thrusting out my hands and chin to let him know I wanted loose.

  He sighed. “Look, I will cut you free, but you have to sit still and listen to what I have to tell you.”

  I nodded and he narrowed his eyes, his face hardening. Guess he didn’t trust me after that last time. Smart guy.

  “Just so you know, you can’t escape until we let you, so don’t even bother.”

  I glanced past him and saw the other two wore hard expressions to match his. A quick sweep of the room showed the only door would be accessible only by going through all three of them. That took some wind out of my sails. My shoulders slumped as I nodded my defeat.

  A knife swiftly appeared in his hands and I jerked back but he just quickly released my hands. I scrambled to pull the tape from my mouth just as the other guy winced and said, “Easy now!”

  Tears stung my eyes as the tape ripped away several of my skin cells, distracting me for a moment while my legs were freed.

  “Ouch. Did you really have to tape her, T?”

  “Shut up, Alex,” ‘T’, or Asshole Kidnapper as he should have been called, said.

  I rubbed my wrists and face, and took several deep br
eaths, not wanting to cry in front of these three. A weird calm came over me as I started to take stock of my surroundings.

  We appeared to be in some sort of small office. An old, banged up metal desk with an equally old looking wooden chair was to the right and a few beat up metal filing cabinets stood against the wall, opposite from where I still sat on the floor. To the left, behind “T”, Alex, and what’s-her-bitch, was the door. I could hear weird thumping, and sounds of people talking beyond the door. There was a hollow echo to it all that made me think we must be a large building. The noise reminded me of gym class. I took another deep breath and looked “T” in the eyes.

  “So, what do you want?”

  He smiled and I was struck again by how handsome he was. In fact, all three of the terrible trio were really good looking. It was enough to make a kidnapped girl covered in pee and wearing a bathrobe feel a bit self-conscious in spite of herself.

  “My name is Toshio. But most of the bums around here call me Toshi or Tosh; or, if they’re particularly lazy, just ‘T’.” He inclined his head toward the girl. “This is Cassandra. Or Cass.”

  Rhymes with Ass....

  He gestured toward the other guy. “And this is my cousin, Alex.”

  Now that he’d said Alex was his cousin, I could see some resemblance. Alex was a little shorter than Toshio but there was something in their long limbs and facial structure that was the same. They both had long, dark hair and silvery-gray eyes. And while both showed evidence of some Asian mix, Alex’s was less pronounced. Cassandra also appeared to be mixed—another mutt, like me. Caramel brown skin, honey-gold eyes, masses of light golden-brown curls, and a tall perfect body, combined to give her the appearance of a golden statue. Her facial features marked her mixed ethnicity, giving her a fierce beauty.

  I shifted, pulling my robe closer. “I’m going to stand up now, so don’t freak out on me, okay?”