Beneath This Mask (Beneath, #1)(14)

I was distracted, thinking about everything Yve had read to me earlier. And then I turned my head and watched the whole scene unfold in slow motion: the carriage turning the corner, Huck tugging the leash from my negligent grip and darting into the street after it, the street sweeper careening down the narrow road.

I screamed as the truck clipped Huck’s torso and rear legs, sending him spinning toward the sidewalk on the other side of the street. I dropped my bike and ran into the road, barely missing getting hit myself. His broken body was sprawled in the gutter, his chest heaving, and a pool of blood was forming and running into the street. I dropped to my knees beside him and held back my vomit as I saw one of his rear leg bones protruding from beneath the skin and a gash along his side. I flipped the fur back over the wound, not able to stomach looking inside him. The truck hadn’t stopped, nor had the car behind it. The carriage was gone. The streets of the Quarter were rarely empty, but of course now … when I desperately needed someone, it was deserted. Tears streamed down my face, and I fumbled with my bag, where it still hung across my body. I pulled out my phone and pressed buttons. I had four numbers. One of them had to answer. It rang. Once. Twice. And then someone picked up.

“Charlie?”

It was not a voice I’d expected to hear. But I didn’t f*cking care. “Charlie? I can hear you breathing.”

“I need you. Now. Please. Help me.” The words were disjointed syllables strangled by my sobs.

I could almost feel a change in Simon’s demeanor through the phone.

“Where are you? What happened? I’m getting in my car. Tell me where I’m going.”

I looked up. “Corner of Toulouse and Dauphine. Huck got hit by a car. I need…” My words broke off when Huck’s eyes blinked open at his name. “Please. Hurry.”

“I’m on my way. I’m not far. I’ll be there in five minutes. Just breathe, Charlie.”

Huck yelped, and I dropped the phone back into my bag.

I stroked Huck’s head and spoke to him in low, soothing tones. He tried to move his back legs and yelped again, and his panting breaths sped up. I tried to hold him steady. His big brown eyes stared into mine. “It’s going to be okay, baby. I promise. You’re going to be fine. I swear.”

Simon lied. He was there in less than five minutes, but it still seemed like an eternity. My face was buried in Huck’s neck, trying to keep him still, listening to his pained whimpers. I heard the roar of an engine before a vehicle jerked to a stop on the street next to me. The door flew open, but I didn’t look up. I kept my eyes locked on Huck’s. A hand on my shoulder snapped me out of my stupor.

“Charlie, step back for a second.” Simon was holding a gray cargo blanket. “We need to get the blanket under him to lift him into the back. We’re going to do it together, okay?”

I moved toward Huck’s head and Simon lay the blanket down. “Fuck,” he breathed. “Need to wrap up his wounds before we can move him.” Simon was all business, ripping off his suit coat and wrapping it around Huck. His dress shirt and tie became a tourniquet around Huck’s hindquarters. “Never done a field dressing on a dog, but this is the best I can do.” He worked the blanket under Huck’s body, trying to jostle him as little as possible. Huck whimpered and tried to move. “Hold still, buddy.”

Simon stood and spun to hit a button in the car. The tailgate of his BMW X5 rose. Wearing only a white T-shirt and suit pants, Simon crouched next to me. He nodded toward Huck’s head. “You get his head. It’s going to be a tight fit, but the back seat is down. As soon as we’ve got him in, climb over the seat and try to keep him calm. I’ll get us there as fast as I can without bouncing him around too much. Got it?” When I didn’t reply, he grabbed my shoulder and shook me. “Charlie, you with me?”

“Yeah.” I nodded.

“Okay. Let’s do this.”

We awkwardly maneuvered Huck into the SUV, and my heart clenched at every whimper and whine. Once he was settled, I scrambled onto the back of the seat so I could sit next to him. Simon put the car in drive and activated his Bluetooth system. I only half listened to his call, but it seemed he was relaying Huck’s condition to someone. He made another call, but I was deaf to everything but Huck’s whimpers. Long minutes later we pulled up to a large white and tan building, and three women and a man in scrubs scurried out, carrying a doggy stretcher. Simon popped the tailgate, and the man started calling out orders to the others. A strong arm wrapped around my middle as I tried to follow them as they maneuvered Huck out of the car.


“Come on, let’s go,” he said, pulling me back and out the side door.

When we entered the building, my eyes darted around, but Huck was already gone. I tugged at Simon’s arm, which was still wrapped around my waist, holding me upright.

“Where is he? Where did they take him?”

A woman at the reception desk responded. “They’ve taken him back to surgery. He’s in good hands, ma’am.” She slid a clipboard across the counter. “I’ll need you to fill out some forms for him and,” she hesitated, “I’ll need a credit card.”

I bit my lip. “I don’t have a credit card.” I looked down at the forms. Shit. It was like going to the f*cking emergency room. Something I’d been happy to avoid for a year because I worked too damn hard to stay off the radar.