Max, page 11
Emilio stood with a small group of extremely scary-looking dudes. They had huge biceps and wore matching leather jackets and tall, black leather boots. One of them—the smallest guy—seemed to be in charge. He was giving directions in Spanish.
Tyler hopped out of the truck, while the largest man Justin had ever seen emerged out of the driver’s side. He was well over six feet tall, and he was as wide as three other men put together. He loomed over Tyler. Justin could see why he’d brought him along. He wore jeans, a leather vest, and had a very obvious holster on his belt.
The giant man whistled sharply, and two sturdy Rottweilers sailed out of the back of the truck, their muscles rippling in the sunlight. They landed on the ground with a thud, and sat down, one on either side of Tyler and the man. Max shifted his weight and whimpered softly. Justin instinctively put an arm around Max’s neck, hoping it would settle him.
“Stack, show them,” Tyler snapped. The humongous man, Stack, lumbered around to the back of the truck, the dogs trailing closely behind him, and opened the doors. He lifted out a long metal object.
It took a second for Justin to realize what he was seeing—it was a military rifle. Kyle had once shown him something like it on a video call. Stack handed it over to Emilio’s buddy. The man inspected it carefully. He raised it to his shoulder and pointed it into the woods near Justin and Max.
Justin’s heart was pounding so hard, he was sure the men would be able to hear it. Max licked his lips and tried to pull away. His instincts were kicking in—after all, he was trained to find weapons just like that one. Justin held him tightly.
The man holding the rifle spoke in Spanish to Emilio. Justin couldn’t understand the words, but he knew the tone wasn’t exactly friendly.
“He likes it,” Emilio said to Tyler, “but he wants to know for sure you’ve got more where this came from.”
“I understood what he said,” Tyler said sharply. “Tell him this is strictly show-and-tell. There’s plenty more.”
The man spoke to Emilio in Spanish again.
“He wants to know where the rest is,” Emilio translated.
Tyler smirked. “It’s stored in a nice, safe place. We’ll deliver it as soon as the second half of the money is deposited into my account. Like we agreed upon.” Tyler’s voice was laden with menace. He stepped forward and snatched the weapon back from the man’s hand. “That’ll take down a chopper,” he said with a grin. “But if you really want to do some damage, check this one out.” Tyler snapped his fingers at Stack, who stomped over to the back of the truck and pulled out a bigger, heavier, and altogether scarier-looking weapon. Justin recognized it immediately as a rocket launcher—something else Kyle had taught him about.
Justin swallowed hard. This was serious business. He and Max needed to get out of here, fast. He was getting in way over his head, and it seemed like the best idea was to alert the authorities that something super illegal was about to go down.
Just as Justin was about to pull Max back toward the road, Max caught the scent of the rocket launcher. Justin recalled that the last big haul Max and Kyle had found before Kyle was killed was a huge cache of weapons—just like this one. Before Justin could stop him, Max’s entire demeanor changed. He stood up on all fours. His eyes lit up, his ears pointed forward, his mouth snapped shut, and he whimpered loudly. Justin’s stomach flipped, and adrenaline shot through his body. This wasn’t good.
Sure enough, one of the Rottweilers—the bigger, meaner-looking one—heard Max and snapped to attention. Both of Stack’s dogs now skittered excitedly around the clearing, sniffing at the air, their muscular bodies poised for action. They both started to growl as they nosed at the underbrush.
This was bad, Justin thought. Very, very bad.
Tyler whispered something to Stack, who tried to get his dogs in line with a few commands. The man with Emilio had taken note of the dogs’ behavior, too, and started to speak nervously in Spanish. Emilio gave a concerned nod as he listened.
“He wants to know what’s bothering the dogs,” Emilio said.
“Probably just some critter,” Stack said. “A coyote, maybe.”
“Still,” Tyler said smoothly, “no reason to hang around here any longer than we need to, right? Your boy good, Emilio?”
Emilio and the man exchanged a few words in Spanish.
“The money will be wired into your account in the morning.” Emilio took one step forward and got in Tyler’s face. He pointed a finger at Tyler. “But if you’re setting him up—”
Tyler swatted Emilio’s hand away. “No one’s setting anyone up. You tell him that.” Tyler stared down Emilio until Emilio turned away and hopped in a huge black SUV with the three other men. They sped out of the clearing, leaving a trail of dust.
Tyler turned to Stack, a look of fury on his face. “Send those dogs out, now!”
Stack whistled, and with a great flurry of barking and growling, the Rottweilers bounded toward the trees.
They were coming for Justin and Max.
SEVENTEEN
JUSTIN RAN FASTER THAN HE HAD EVER RUN IN HIS LIFE. He had never had a reason to move that quickly before, because he’d never been chased by two rabid beasts and two men with guns.
He could hear the burly Rottweilers tromping through the underbrush and panting heavily as they came after him and Max. Justin reached his bike and grabbed the handlebars. He hopped on and was just about to take off when the smaller of the two dogs came bursting through the trees.
The Rottweiler blocked their path and growled at Justin. Before the huge dog could make a move, Max lunged at him, guarding Justin. The two dogs snarled at each other, their upper lips curling up to reveal their fangs. The Rottweiler seemed to hesitate, and for a second Justin thought maybe they could get around him and get out of there.
Suddenly, the second Rottweiler came charging out of the woods. He leaped into the air, heading right for Justin. Justin raised his arm to protect himself, but Max hurtled himself at the dog, slamming into the Rottweiler in midair and knocking him to the ground. Max landed on top of him. The two dogs rolled around in the dirt, a frenzy of growls and bites and scratches, battling each other fiercely. Justin watched helplessly, unable to tell if Max was getting hurt.
Max pulled back from the Rottweiler, his sides heaving as he panted, and the dogs circled each other for a long moment. Justin held his breath, trying desperately to think of some way to help Max. He looked around for a large rock, but couldn’t find anything. Max looked up at him, as if he was trying to tell Justin something. Before Justin had a chance to figure out what, Max suddenly zipped past him, running farther into the woods. The Rottweilers followed, nipping at his heels.
Max was leading the dogs away from Justin. So Justin could escape.
Justin was too worried about Max to move at first. He stood, frozen, watching the trees where Max had disappeared. Would Max be able to defend himself against two dogs? Would he know how to get home? Justin hated the thought of leaving Max behind in the woods. But Max had clearly wanted to give Justin a chance to get away.
Justin heard heavy footsteps moving through the trees. Then Tyler’s voice drifted toward his hiding spot. He was yelling at Stack. “That was no coyote. How could you let this happen?”
Justin didn’t wait around for Stack’s response. He hopped on his bike and spun off down the road that led out of the woods. He pedaled furiously over the bumps and dips, barely steering around knotty patches of vines and roots.
He took a chance and turned to look behind him for a second, to see if anyone was catching up. Just as he did, Justin hit something with his front tire, and flew up and over his handlebars, landing flat on his back. The wind was knocked out of him, and he lay there for a split second, trying to breathe again. His entire body was in shock from the sudden pain. Justin stood up carefully and gingerly decided he wasn’t seriously hurt, maybe just a few scrapes and bruises.
His bike, on the other hand, was completely destroyed. The front rim was totally mangled, and the tire was flat as a pancake. But there was no time to feel sorry for himself or be sad about the bike that he and Kyle used to work on together. The bike they had tuned up while Tyler watched—Tyler, the same man who was chasing Justin that very second.
Justin picked up his bike and tossed it off to the side of the road, into a thick patch of leaves. He’d have to come back for it later. Then he took off on foot.
Justin didn’t know what was worse: Hearing Tyler and Stack chasing after him, or hearing nothing at all. The woods were still as he ran along. He couldn’t even hear Max’s barking anymore, and he hoped that his dog was safe. After a few minutes, Justin realized he had somehow gotten off the dirt road and onto a smaller path. He must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. Now he had even less of a clue where he was—or how to get out of here.
A whooshing sound suddenly broke through the quiet. It was silent again for a moment, then whoosh—he heard it again. Cars. He was hearing cars driving by. Justin hurried in the direction of the noise, and let out a whoop when he stumbled out of the trees and onto the side of a paved two-lane road. It was empty of cars. As he waited for someone to drive by, he heard a rustling sound behind him. He spun around, ready to fight, but instead dropped to his knees.
Max!
He was alive. Injured and limping, with blood on his side, but very much alive.
A car appeared in the distance.
“Lie down, Max,” Justin said. Max lay down.
The sedan cruised along toward them, and Justin stepped into the middle of the road, waving his arms frantically over his head. The car came to a stop, and an old lady rolled down the passenger-side window. She looked like she could be someone’s grandma.
“Are you okay, son?” she asked worriedly.
“I’m fine, ma’am, but my dog is hurt. We need a ride,” Justin begged.
“Well, hop in,” she said, motioning for him to get inside.
Justin opened the back door for Max. They were both surprised to hear a burst of high-pitched barks and yips. Justin leaned in to see a small, fluffy white dog, bouncing around frantically on the backseat. The dog glared at Max. Max hesitated for a second, taking in the tiny terror. Justin looked over his shoulder to see if Stack or Tyler were coming. They weren’t. Yet. But they would pick up Justin’s trail soon enough.
“Let’s go, Max,” Justin urged. “Up.”
Max clambered into the backseat, and Justin sat in the front. The little dog continued its frenzied yapping. Max ignored it and stared out the window.
“Ma’am, may I borrow your phone?” Justin asked. It was the millionth time in his life that he wished he had a cell phone.
“Sure, honey.” She dug around for it in her purse.
Justin smiled at her and off they drove—away from the Rottweilers, away from Stack, and, most important, away from Tyler.
EIGHTEEN
CHUY’S EYES LOOKED AS IF THEY WERE GOING TO POP out of his head.
“Four hundred and fifty dollars?” he repeated, astonished.
“And forty-seven cents,” said the woman behind the counter at the emergency veterinarian’s office.
“For dog stitches?” Chuy asked. “I’d hate to hear what you charge for a human.”
“Chuy,” Carmen said from where she was kneeling next to Max, “the important thing is that Max is okay.”
Max’s head was framed by a wide plastic cone that had been attached to his neck. It was to keep him from licking at his wounds while they healed, but it made him look like an alien. Carmen ran her hand over Max’s head and gave him a gentle scratch behind the ears. “Right, Max?”
Justin nudged Chuy aside and arranged his facial features into what he hoped were a pathetic, helpless expression.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry. Can you give us a second?” he said to the receptionist.
The woman nodded.
Justin turned to Chuy. “How much did your mom give you?” he asked.
“‘Give me’?” Chuy said. “She didn’t give me jack. This is my life savings.”
“Your life savings is a hundred dollars?” Justin said before he could stop himself.
Chuy looked insulted. “You don’t want it, man, that’s cool with me.”
“No—no, that’s not what I meant,” Justin backpedaled. “Sorry. Yes, thank you, I’ll take it.”
Justin took the cash Chuy reluctantly handed over. He added it to the two hundred he had in his pocket from Emilio. He handed it to the woman, who just shook her head.
“I’m sorry. We can’t release Max without full payment. I’m going to have to call your parents.”
“Please, ma’am—don’t do that,” Justin pleaded. “I’m good for the rest, I promise. I’ll give you my phone number and home address so you can find me. I just need time to figure out what to tell my dad, that’s all.” He paused for effect and tried the sad face again. “Please?”
She pursed her lips and studied him for a moment. Finally, she nodded and took the money from his hand. “Okay.”
Justin exhaled a sigh of relief. “Thank you so much,” he said. Then, turning to Chuy and Carmen, he said under his breath, “What am I going to tell my dad?”
“If this has anything to do with Emilio,” Chuy cautioned as they headed for the parking lot, Max walking gingerly between them, “then nothing.”
“I can’t do that,” Justin replied.
Chuy stepped in front of him and stopped him in his tracks. “J., listen to me. That dude is crazy. Family doesn’t mean anything to him—and you’re not even family. Trust me.”
Justin didn’t say anything.
“Fine,” Chuy added. “But if you care about me and Carmen at all, leave us out of it.”
EXHAUSTED, JUSTIN AND MAX HEADED UP THE DRIVEWAY toward the backyard. Justin had never been so happy to be home. From the looks of it, Max felt the same way. The moment they stepped into the yard, though, Max started barking like crazy. Justin led him to his cage and nudged him inside.
“What’s up, pal?” Justin asked in surprise.
Max growled and yelped some more. Justin didn’t have any choice but to shut the cage door and lock it. “You just need some rest, Max. We both do,” he said.
Justin headed inside as Max continued making lots of noise. The barking was setting Justin on edge—although he was already pretty tense. Justin knew that he couldn’t let Tyler and Emilio go through with the sale of those guns without trying to stop it. But there was no doubt in his mind that Tyler and Stack—not to mention Emilio and those scary Spanish-speaking dudes—would hurt whoever tried to get in their way. As far as Justin could tell, he only had one thing going for him, at least for the moment: They didn’t know it had been him and Max in the woods.
It was a dangerous situation, and Justin wasn’t sure what to do. He should probably call the sheriff or something.
He stepped inside his house through the sliding back door. It was weirdly quiet. Normally his mom was home by now, cooking dinner, but she wasn’t in the kitchen. Nothing was on the stove.
“Mom?” he called out.
“In here, Justin,” his mom responded. Her voice sounded funny.
Justin stepped into the living room and found his mom perched on the couch, looking upset. Next to her, with a smug look on his face, sat Tyler. Fear shot through Justin’s body, and he looked away from Tyler. He wanted to turn around, grab Max, and bolt, but he couldn’t.
“What have you done, Justin?” Justin’s mom asked in a stern voice. He could tell she was torn between disappointment and worry.
“What have I done?” he asked, genuinely confused.
“Tyler told me what Max did to the deputy sheriff’s dog,” she replied.
Tyler tilted his head ever so slightly, his eyes locking on Justin, as he waited for him to reply. Justin could still hear Max barking in the yard—this was what his dog had been trying to warn him about.
“I don’t know what he’s talking about,” Justin said. It was the truth. His mind raced, trying to catch up with this information. He knew Tyler was trying to pull something, but he couldn’t figure out what any deputy sheriff had to do with it. Then Justin had the odd sensation that someone was watching him from behind. He turned slowly to see Stack—dressed in a tan sheriff’s uniform, a shiny metal badge pinned to his barrel chest, a service revolver hanging from a leather belt slung around his hips—lurking in the corner of his living room. The man’s head practically touched the ceiling, he was so tall and wide. Justin’s blood went cold, and his palms got clammy. Max was still yowling away outside.
Stack nodded at him. Justin noticed that one of his giant, meaty hands was wrapped in a bloody bandage. Justin couldn’t help but hope that Max had inflicted that wound, and that it was a particularly nasty one.
“Don’t lie to me, Justin.” His mom’s voice was quiet but steady. It was the way she sounded when she was really, really angry. “Don’t you dare lie.”
Stack stepped forward, his eyes fixed on Justin. His whole demeanor had changed from just a few hours earlier—he was in full sheriff mode now. So much for calling the authorities, Justin thought. Stack was the authorities.
“There I was, just having a few off-duty beers with my buddy Tyler,” Stack said, “when wham! one of my dogs gets pounced on by your dog.” He tipped his head menacingly toward Justin. “My poor Rottweiler didn’t know what hit him.” He held up his bandaged hand. “Your dog got me pretty good, too, when I tried to break it up.” Stack took another step toward Justin. Justin forced himself to stay put. “I had to put him down. My own dog.” Stack paused—he looked upset. Was it possible the monster actually had feelings? “What your animal did—that’s assault, son. The law says that your family is liable for whatever he does, but I’ll drop any charges if you just put him down now.”
