There’s movement in the bushes behind us, and Lachlan twists around to look. I look around, expecting to see some drunk person emerge. But the bushes just shake and suddenly two dogs pop out.
Both of them look skinny and mangy. One looks like a pit bull, which I admit makes me a bit scared, and the other is a scruffy mutt with long, matted hair. They look at us with frightened eyes and run off down the road and into the trees, the pit bull limping as he goes.
Lachlan looks back at me. “I have to go,” he says.
“Where?”
He nods to where the dogs had gone. “There. The one dog is hurt.” He pulls out of my grasp and starts jogging down the road.
I don’t know what to say. I watch him go and realize I have two choices—I can go back to the gang and finish the rest of the concert, even though it will probably be over by the time I get back.
Or I can go after Lachlan, who not only seems to be going through something at the moment, but just ran off after two stray dogs.
I take the more exciting option.
CHAPTER NINE
Kayla
I run after Lachlan, my boots slapping the concrete with each step. Thankfully he looks over his shoulder and spots me. He comes to a stop, frowning.
“I’m coming with you,” I tell him.
“Really?” he asks, studying me. “I’m going after them. Through there.” He points into the woods at the tall eucalyptus and pine that stick up like blackened spears into the city-lit sky.
“Then let’s go,” I tell him.
He rubs his lips together, still watching me close. Then he shrugs, his eyes lighting up. “All right.”
“All right.”
He turns and starts jogging into the woods of Golden Gate Park and I’m hot on his trail. I pull out my phone, and even though the battery is low, I turn on the flashlight so I don’t eat shit. I know it doesn’t really help Lachlan see, and from the way he’s thundering forward over leaves and brush, I don’t think he needs it. If he’s a true beast, he can see in the dark.
“I didn’t know you were such a dog lover,” I tell him, leaping over a fallen log. Then again, I don’t know a lot of things about him.
“It’s what I do,” he says over his shoulder.
“Like a hobby?” I ask, ducking under a branch.
“Like a job,” he answers.
I will my legs to lengthen their strides and try to keep up. “I thought you played rugby.”
“A man should always do more than one thing,” he says, and suddenly we’re bolting out of the bushes and onto one of the many paths that crisscross the park. He stops and looks around, eyes scanning the darkness. The only light comes from the faded night sky and my flashlight, and I try not to shine it in his face.
He exhales hard and looks at me. “I run an organization back in Edinburgh,” he explains. “I rescue dogs, pit bulls and other bully breeds, but I won’t turn down a stray, no matter the breed or the temperament.”
I’m completely taken aback by this information. “You run a charity?”
“Aye.” He nods, looking around him. “Been running it for a few years now, ever since I had the means and the money to do so.”
I can’t believe this. “Why didn’t you say anything in the interview? This totally ties into what Bram is doing.”
“Because that was about Bram. That was for his cause, not mine.” Suddenly he gestures for me to be quiet, to stay still. I hold my breath, frozen in place. There is a rustle in the distance, but I don’t dare lift my flashlight. Two pairs of eyes glint in the dark.
“Over there,” he whispers. “They aren’t going to be easy to catch. They’re scared.”
He slowly starts moving in their direction and I reluctantly follow.
“Aren’t they dangerous?”
“We’re the dangerous ones,” he says. “Until we prove to them otherwise.”
“And how do we do that?” I ask.
“With a fuckload of patience, love,” he says.
I grin. “Did I ever tell you that I love it when you call me that?” I tell him. I can’t help it. “Love. It’s so…endearing.”
He gives me a curious look. “Have I called you that before?”
I nod.