Lock&Load (PASS Series Book 3) by Freya Barker

Author:Freya Barker [Barker, Freya]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781988733586
Published: 2021-01-24T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Hillary

“Come on Phil, you’re gonna make me late.”

I swear the dog has sniffed every single blade of grass since we left the apartment ten minutes ago.

I was already running late after waking up about half an hour after I should’ve. I’m blaming Radar, not that I’ve seen him—he never made it home—but his bed is comfortable and smells of him, so when the alarm on my phone rang this morning, I turned it off just so I could linger a little longer. I promptly fell back asleep.

Then I discovered I forgot my shampoo and relaxing conditioner when I packed a quick overnight bag before my shift yesterday afternoon. Apparently real guys use some three-in-one crap that comes in a convenient single bottle, but does nothing for my hair, which is air-drying into frizzy little curls. But at least I smell good, just like Radar.

“Come on, girl. Wanna go home? I’ll give you a treat. You wanna treat?”

Apparently, the promise of food works and Phil picks up the pace, or as much as she’s able to on those short legs.

Unfortunately, we bump into Earl who’s hanging off the side of one of the dumpsters, pouring out what looks like a gallon of bleach.

“Morning!”

I open my mouth to respond when the smell hits me and I slap a hand over my face.

“My God, what is that?”

“Ah, yes. I’m afraid that’s from the other day. Roadkill? Gettin’ a little ripe,” he explains.

Not sure the bleach is doing much other than turning it into a cocktail of noxious fumes that stubbornly clings to the inside of my nose as I give him a wave and hurry past.

Inside I give Phil her promised treat, grab my purse and rush back out, locking the door behind me.

When I run into the shelter almost ten minutes late, a gray-bearded homeless man is sitting in the lobby. Probably waiting for me.

Technically I offer some basic medical care for our residents, but word gets out and these days I’m not surprised to see a random homeless person walk in with some kind of medical problem. The policy is not to turn anyone away, but there’s only so much I’m able to do.

“I’m sorry, I’m running a little late,” I apologize. “I’ll be with you in a few minutes.”

He doesn’t say anything, just looks at me from age-drooped eyes and grunts. I give him a quick smile I know won’t be returned, as I start walking and promptly bump into Brad.

He grabs onto my upper arms to steady me and I sharply suck air through my teeth. Shit, I’d almost forgotten about the deep bruises Jeff left on my arm, which reminds me; I should have a word with Rosie.

“Tell me you have some coffee.”

“Are you hurt?” Brad ignores my question when he catches me rubbing a hand over my sore arm.

“Bumped it. Coffee?”

He cocks a thumb in the direction of the cafeteria. “Banana nut muffins too.”

“You’re a lifesaver.” I smile at him brightly and dart around him to get myself some much-needed sustenance.

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