Schnickelfritz in Love

  Schnickelfritz in Love

  By Deirdre O’Dare

  Published by JMS Books LLC

  Visit jms-books.com for more information.

  Copyright 2019 Deirdre O’Dare

  ISBN 9781646560332

  Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com

  Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

  All rights reserved.

  WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted.

  No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission from the publisher, with the exception of excerpts used for the purposes of review.

  This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It may contain sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which might be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Published in the United States of America.

  NOTE: This book was previously published by Amber Quill Press.

  * * * *

  This one is for Nancy and “Pinto” with a nod to the great breed rescue groups who work selflessly to save lost and abandoned dogs and find for them loving forever homes. A million dogs and their happy new families thank you but it can never be enough! Brightest blessings on all of you and your charges.

  Again special thanks to my wonderful editor E.J., also an animal lover and surely the world’s most eagle eyed and patient of editors! A furry halo for you, my friend! Smiles, hugs and heartfelt mil gracias as well.

  * * * *

  Schnickelfritz in Love

  By Deirdre O’Dare

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 1

  Las Cruces, New Mexico

  August 12, 4:30 P.M.

  Jake Rasmussen stuck his key into the lock and gave it a twist. The battered door swung inward, releasing a welcome blast of cool air and a rocket-propelled bundle of fuzzy energy. Snick—formally known as Schnickelfritz Schnauzerstein—damn near ran up one side of his master and down the other.

  “Awright, ya little shitbird. You’re glad to see me. That’s cool. I’m glad to see you too, but you’ve got too fuckin’ much enthusiasm. Gimme a minute, will ya? After I have a beer, we’ll go to the dog park. Promise.”

  The Miniature Schnauzer wove between Jake’s legs and twisted in dizzy circles around him as he made his way across the stamp-sized living room of his apartment to the kitchen alcove, jerked open the fridge door, and pulled out a brown bottle. That first cold swig was pure heaven after long hours at work in the Las Cruces August steam. The monsoon season was in full swing and a dry heat it was not. A passing shower had just made the air feel more like a sauna.

  Jake set the beer on the dinette table and dug a rumpled bandana from a pocket of his jeans to wipe the runnels of sweat off his face. Something about coming in to a cooler place and taking a few cold swallows really got it running. With a little luck, he could postpone Snick’s afternoon expedition for half an hour or so. Not that it would be much cooler, but every little bit helped.

  He ambled back to the living room and flopped into the comfort of his worn recliner. “Can we watch the five-o’clock news first, buddy?”

  The dog seemed to consider this for a moment, then hopped up to perch on Jake’s knees. The man reached for the remote, then remembered he’d left his beer in the kitchen.

  Aw, shit. Well, it won’t get too warm for a few minutes. I ought to teach this mutt to fetch. Ha, first I’d have to be smarter than the dog. For the half-Greek son of a Swedish sailor, who barely got through high school, that might not be possible. Jake punctuated the thought with a wry chuckle. If Snick was an example, Schnauzers were damn smart dogs.

  Snick was charcoal gray, and the bristly hair around his face gave him an old-man look that his bright eyes and abundant energy belied. Jake had just happened to see the notice from the local animal shelter—too many dogs meant some of them would have to go soon, either by adoption or by being put to sleep. Although he’d loved dogs as a kid, his mom had refused to allow one, citing the family’s frequent moves. His construction work still kept him moving often, yet he thought he could fit a smaller dog into his life. After all, he’d always gotten along with his friend’s dogs, often even better than they did.

  Snick, the shelter people told him, had been a puppy mill stud for the first few years of his life. Taken in a raid along with a bunch of others, he was just a tad past the cute puppy stage that appealed to many seeking a pet. He was also a bit cantankerous at times, but had improved with some socializing by the shelter staff in the weeks he’d been housed there. Despite the dog’s shortcomings, Jake took to the feisty little guy at once and brought him home the next day. Actually, they were a pretty good match—two loners with some bad baggage from the past and a well-hidden need to have someone to care for. They’d been together over a year now. So far it worked.

  At five-thirty Jake left the comfort of his recliner with some reluctance, snapped the leash onto Snick’s collar, and headed down the street two blocks to the nearest park, a dog-friendly one with a fenced area where canine citizens could frolic off leash safe from traffic, while other park visitors were safe from them.

  Before they got there, Snick was all but walking on air. He knew this drill well. Freedom! Frolic! Fun! Things to sniff and a hundred spots to pee on, maybe some other dogs he could growl at or wrestle with. The place was sheer paradise from a dog’s point of view.

  Once inside the gate, Jake removed the leash. Not a second later, Snick took off at a dead run, so fast he was just a gray blur. Jake shook his head as he wandered to a shaded bench to sit down. If only I had a tenth of that damn dog’s energy…This new job promised to be a real challenge. Normally he liked challenges, but sometimes they mushroomed to gigantic proportions, and this looked like it’d be one of them, especially since it was his first as team leader for the electricians.

  * * * *

  Boz Corwin actually got home early for a change. Despite his involvement with the seemingly endless drug and gang investigations, the day had been relatively slow for the Las Cruces Police Department. As soon as he reached his little adobe house on the edge of the gallery district, he dumped his shoulder holster and Kevlar vest, snapped a lead on Athena and headed for the dog park. Even though the park was about five blocks from his home, the walk was a welcome bit of quiet, fresh air, and his first chance to put the worrisome and wearying details of the day into perspective.

  Thank God for Athena. She gave him a reason to get out, as well as a precious dose of sanity and unwavering loyalty to balance the seamy side of life in which he had his nose rubbed every day. Working vice had not been an uplifting experience. Working drugs and gangs was even more depressing. Athena gave him something totally outside that dismal world.

  The retired greyhound had the patience of a saint, at least with him. Even if he came in late and grumpy, she was unfailingly glad to see him, tolerated his growls and curses, and waited with something like stoic calm until he was ready to take her out. Normally he didn’t keep her waiting too long. She never made a mess in the house, however late he might be, and she’d never been destructive or rowdy. She was an absolute lady, something refreshingly dist
ant from the females he normally encountered.

  The dog park seemed quiet. Boz noted a big man dozing on a bench and a woman with two small kids and a puppy at the far end of the park. The rest of the grassy area was empty. He shut the gate behind him and then released Athena’s leash. She cocked her head to look up at him as if for permission before she started away, moving with the grace of a gazelle. He knew she could run like the wind. Maybe later he’d throw her ball a few times and let her run, but for now, she was content to sniff, squat, and explore in a lazy way.

  There was some rudimentary agility equipment set up at one side of the park. He knew a group practiced there on weekends and had even watched a few times, amazed at the nimble Aussies, the clownish terriers, and diverse other dogs as they went through their paces. Athena watched, never showing any desire to join in the fun. He knew her racing days had put a lot of stress on her lean body. So far she wasn’t showing any signs of arthritis or trauma, so he didn’t want to push her. Besides, he didn’t have the time for a lot of training.

  Today, for some reason, she did wander over to that area, though, and moved quietly among the poles, ramps, and teeter-totter, sniffing curiously. All at once, a gray streak flashed past him heading toward the much taller, leaner dog. The little dog, a funny-looking guy with a square, bristly face, ran in circles around her, barking urgently.

  He reared up on his hind legs to sniff her butt. For once, she did not sit down or spin away. Athena usually played the professional virgin and got indignant about any liberties taken. Her behavior was unusual enough to make Boz watch.

  The next thing he knew, the damned little mutt had her backed up to one of the ramps, scrambled up it, and was in the process of trying to hump the taller female. Amazingly, Athena looked to be cooperating!

  What the fuck?

  Athena was spayed. He’d had that done the first week he got her, so what was with this perverted little scrap of dogdom? He wasn’t even sure what kind of dog it was. He never paid much attention to little mutts anyway, simply categorizing them as either barking rats or barking dust mops, depending on their overall appearance. This guy wasn’t quite either one, but he sure was a randy little bugger.

  Boz looked around for the owner. Obviously not the woman with the kids and the spaniel puppy, at least he didn’t think so. She was studiously ignoring the whole thing and trying to divert her two children’s attention. Must be the big guy. He seemed to be awake now and was watching, shaking his head a bit.

  “Get your fornicating dog off of mine,” Boz yelled. “She’s spayed, but that’s not the point. This is a public park, and owners are supposed to keep their dogs under control. That mutt of yours is about as out of control as he can be.”

  The big man stood and started, not toward the dogs but in Boz’s direction. “Cool your jets, dude. Your dog’s not exactly struggling to get away. She could grab mine and throw him across the park if she didn’t want to play. Let them have their fun. Mine’s fixed too, by the way, so he’s shooting blanks.”

  Boz saw the other man topped him by a good four inches and probably more than fifty pounds, all of it muscle. Even though he had plenty of training in self-defense and martial arts for his work, it would be pretty stupid to pick a fight with a bruiser like the mutt’s master. Boz’s mom hadn’t raised any dumb kids.

  He had to admit the sight of the little gray dog clinging to Athena’s lean hips and humping away was pretty damn funny. The act was not going to produce any mismatched pups, so what was the harm in it? Athena could certainly move if she didn’t want the attention, even if it left the gray mutt hanging upside down by his willy.

  As the owner drew near, Boz turned to take a better look at him. The sight was enough to stop Boz in his tracks. This big man was one good-looking son of a gun. The faded T-shirt he wore hugged a muscled torso worthy of a Mr. USA competition. Thick wavy hair the color of dark chocolate surrounded a rugged face, burned brown from what had surely been long hours in the western sun. Brilliant blue eyes contrasted with his ruddy skin. The effect was mesmerizing. When he quit scowling and grinned, Boz had to grin back.

  The big man stuck out a massive, work-hardened hand. “I’m Jake. The dog’s name is Schnickelfritz, but I call him Snick. Since our canine kids seem to be hitting it off so well, guess we should get acquainted.”

  Boz accepted the handshake and introduced himself. “Boz Corwin. Athena’s my fur-girl’s name. She’s purebred greyhound, raced in her youth they told me. Best lady a man could have around. What kind of dog is your bud there?”

  “Snick’s a Miniature Schnauzer. The shelter people said he’d been a stud in a puppy mill. They neutered him before I took him. Looks like he hasn’t forgotten what it’s all about, though. If I’d seen what he was trying to do, I’d have called him back, but I guess I dozed off. Nobody around and I didn’t figure he’d get into too much trouble. My bad.”

  Jake’s little boy grin was so appealing it ought to be illegal. Boz mentally shook himself and tried to back off from the surge of attraction that swept over him.

  Shit, five minutes ago I was pissed and now…Man, no fuckin’ way. Big, sweaty laboring-type guys aren’t my thing. This bruiser would probably deck me if I made a pass at him anyway. Just ‘cause our dogs are getting it on doesn’t mean we should.

  Chapter 2

  From then on, although it wasn’t quite every day, they began to meet at the dog park frequently. Jake told himself he didn’t look forward to seeing Athena and Boz, but he knew that wasn’t quite honest. Snick sure did, and, to be truthful, Jake wasn’t much more reluctant.

  Athena really was a sweet dog. She stood three times as tall as Snick, sleek and classy as an exotic sports car. Shy, though, and slow to take up with people. She stuck to Boz like Super Glue most of the time, but seemed to take a shine first to Snick and then to Jake. She came bounding to greet them now with her slender tail fanning eagerly. Talk about the odd couple, though. Fuzzy, belligerent, little Snick was the tramp to her lady, for sure.

  He learned Boz and Athena lived about five blocks in the opposite direction from the apartment he shared with Snick. While the dogs sniffed around and played doggie games, Jake and Boz had begun to talk. They both liked ethnic food, whether Mexican, Italian, Chinese, or Middle Eastern, and patronized some of the same little restaurants hidden in odd corners throughout Old Town. They both read a lot when they had time—thrillers mostly or true war and crime stories. They both had a penchant for the eighties music they’d grown up with, even while admitting a lot of it was not exactly classic. Finding subjects to talk about never seemed hard, although they tended to avoid personal matters.

  Jake wasn’t even sure yet what Boz did for a living. The smaller man was close-mouthed about his work, making a vague comment about security when Jake mentioned he was in the construction business. Jake had shrugged it off as not important anyway. Hell, he wasn’t planning on having a relationship with the man, was he?

  The sudden realization the idea had indeed crossed his mind threw him for a loop. He’d always been into casual easy come and easy go kinds of hook-ups. He wanted nothing he could not walk away from without looking back when a job ended, and it was time to hit the road again. He’d learned that trick in the navy, and so far, it had served him well.

  Something about Boz just didn’t seem to lend itself to such a casual connection, so he hadn’t even hinted at anything more than their current casual friendship. The smaller man displayed an intensity that seemed to indicate a dead-serious approach to life, even though he affected a flippant, satirical manner.

  Suddenly, it was September. The steamy afternoons of the summer rainy season turned drier, while the early morning air held a hint of fall. This far south, winter did not amount to much, but the change of seasons was still a factor, a welcome one for most of the residents. Fall was a good time for construction work—few worries about material or incomplete work getting wet and none about frost or blizzards. With luck, the company would have the
new medical complex completed by the end of the year.

  Jake’s team was responsible for the complete electrical system, powerful and secure enough to ensure critical diagnostic and surgical equipment functioned without a hitch and life-support was absolutely guaranteed for those patients who required it. He took the responsibility seriously and kept a close eye on every wire run and every connection made. Everything had built-in backup provisions, and they’d wire in a massive generator to pick up in a nanosecond during any failures of the regular power grid. Thus, he was personally disturbed when newly installed wires began to turn up missing and critical components his men swore had been placed disappeared.

  Management was furious, of course, because these losses cost them twice, in labor to redo work and in replacing expensive materiel. Jake took the situation to heart as if it reflected on his supervision. He began to watch his men even more closely to be sure none of them were pulling out stuff to sell, maybe to go to Mexico or to wildcat construction projects run by unlicensed contractors working under the radar.

  With the current economic problems, the sale of copper from wire and state-of-the-art electronic components could bring in supplemental income for many. He knew a thriving black market existed. Frustrated with his inability to find out what was happening, Jake knew some relief when he learned the company had hired added security people and called on local law enforcement as well. He’d heard hints the thefts could be tied to local drug and gang activity since the facility was near the edge of a district where rival gangs held sway.

  One morning, the superintendent called Jake aside as soon as he came on shift. Jake would join a meeting with the LCPD detective in charge at eight o’clock. Jake waited at the modular office where the super hung out, impatient at the delay in the day’s work. His assistant would get things going, but he wanted to be there himself.

  He did a double take when he saw the now-familiar figure striding toward him, even if the greyhound was not at the man’s side. Boz? What the hell is he doing here?