Handle With Care Read Free

by the time he caught up with them. Major had the scruffy teenager on the ground, fifty pounds of drooling, growling dog keeping the boy in place.
    “Back down, Major.” The dog lay down but kept his eyes trained on the young man. What? Seventeen, with a scruff. Hard times, maybe.
    “Let me go,” he said, his eyes shadowed.
    “You’re not going anywhere,” he told the kid, patting Major on the head. “Good job.” He turned his attention back to the thief. “Give me the lady’s purse.”
    “Make me.” The kid stood up, and brushed himself off. “Keep that dog off me, or I’ll sue.”
    “You’re a thief,” he replied. “How can you sue?”
    Kid shrugged, still acting tough. “Why not? It’s America.”
    Shane rocked back on his heels and crossed his arms. “So you think you can take a woman’s purse? Not following the logic.”
    The teenager grimaced. “Fine. Take the old lady’s bag.” He tossed it in Shane’s direction. “I’m outta here.”
    “Afraid not. The woman has a cop with her, and they’re right behind you.”
    The teenager’s eyes flashed with fear, but he turned his head and laughed. “See if they can catch me.”
    Shane knew he was about to bolt and get away. A part of him recognized the pain in the teenager, but another part wanted justice for the innocent woman. He stuck out his mechanical hand and made contact with the young man’s chest. “Not so fast. This is a bionic weapon, and I’m special ops,” he lied. “You don’t want to mess with it or me.”
    The boy glanced down, and his youthful pink cheeks lost color. His cocky attitude slipped some too. “You can’t … didn’t do anything.”
    “Yes, you did,” the lady said, having arrived with her armed escort.
    Major had the purse between his teeth, and wagged his tail. The woman bent down to retrieve it, but the pup thought it was a game and tugged.
    “Drop it, Major.” Shane picked up the bag, handing it to the lady. His eyes met the teenager’s. “An apology is in order.”
    The law officer stepped between them. “I’ve got this.” His eyes scanned Shane, head to toe, pausing at the hand, with a nod of respect. “Thank you, sir.”
    Pale as milk, the teen blurted, “I needed the money.” He glanced at the lady. “Sorry.” He looked it too. At being caught perhaps?
    “You’re under arrest,” the officer said and put the young man’s hands behind his back to handcuff him.
    “What did you need the money for?” Shane asked, searching the boy’s face.
    He shrugged. “Haven’t eaten today.”
    “When was the last time you did eat?”
    “A couple of days ago.”
    The officer looked at the woman, clutching the bag tightly in her hands. “You want to press charges, ma’am?”
    She looked at Shane and back at the youth, her prim mouth pursed in thought. “I have a grandson your age. Ran away from home. Are you a runaway?”
    “No, ma’am.”
    “I’ll need to call his parents,” the patrolman interrupted. “What’s your name and number?”
    “Won’t do no good,” the teen said belligerently. “I haven’t seen my family in weeks. Dad threw me out. He won’t want to see me now, anymore than he did then.”
    The lady looked at Shane, who shrugged. What happened next wasn’t up to him. As he looked closer at the thin adolescent, he saw a kid warring within himself over good and evil. Not committed to crime. Yet.
    The officer cleared his throat. “Well, if you haven’t got a place to sleep, I’ll have to take you into protective services. How old are you?”
    “I’m seventeen. I can fend for myself.”
    “You wouldn’t be lying about your age, now would you?” he questioned. “Let me see some I.D.”
    “I left my wallet at my friend’s house.” He lifted his chin, defensive. “I’ve been takin’ care of myself. Dad’s messed up all the time; callin’ him won’t do no good. Mom left last year.”
    “I won’t press charges,” the woman decided, looking at the bewildered