Rescue Me Read Free

problem down, and so far no one else in sight. Still, his muscles stayed tensed, ready.
    AJ scanned the dirty kitchen full of a grocery list he knew by heart—everything needed to cook crystal meth. Ephedrine, butane, brake fluid, drain cleaner and more lined the counters along with other ingredients. Dishes were stacked in the sink with food caked on them from meals eaten here in spite of the dangerous fumes.
    His mind churned with memories of another bust, another time, of finding a child hiding beneath a bed with a sippy cup full of drain cleaner.
    Bile roiled in his gut.
    He stuffed down the image before the past sucked him under. He needed to focus on the present. To give one hundred percent to a job that should have been nothing more complicated than doling out speeding tickets and catching underage drinkers.
    â€œWyatt,” he called, “appears all clear inside. Dogs are contained in crates.” His nose twitched under the shield of his collar. “Since it’s a meth house, we’ll need masks and latex gloves.”
    â€œShiiiiit.” His cousin whistled, then let out an “ooof.”
    â€œYou okay?” AJ started toward the back door.
    â€œJust securing the lady in the cruiser. You deal with the inside. I’ve got this.” Wyatt’s voice grew fainter as he walked farther away. “Don’t even try it again with the knee, ma’am.”
    AJ forced his hand to relax on the grip of his weapon and turned back toward the living room. Now they just had to deal with the animals. Tragic, yes, but not as dangerous as a bunch of meth dealers. Mary Hannah and her friends at the local Second Chance Ranch Rescue could step in now and do their thing.
    A mewling drifted from the far bedroom—half human–, half animal–sounding, stopping him in his tracks. His grip tightened on his weapon again. His thoughts firmly planted on that other bust, the child under the bed in agony from a sip of drain cleaner.
    AJ followed the noise into the smaller of the two bedrooms. One step at a time, he inched closer to a rocking chair with a ratty afghan draped over the seat, preventing him from getting a clear view. Crouching, he lifted the trailing corner, slowly. A low growl gave him only an instant’s warning that the mewling cry hadn’t been human.
    And that his first search hadn’t uncovered all the animals.
    A big brown dog shot out, toppling the rocker onto AJ. The beast darted past until the tether bolted to the floor went taut quivering with tension. The dog—a boxer—cowered only inches from the door.
    Blocking the exit.
    Crap. There was no way out except past the growling canine. His winter police-issue jacket wouldn’t last long if that animal decided to take a serious bite out of him. The dog snarled louder, teeth bared as it flattened to the floor, pulling at the restraint that wouldn’t survive another serious lunge.
    Even a regular Joe with no animal rescue experience could tell the boxer was clearly freaked out and terrified, ears back, eyes wide, drool dripping from its mouth. He’d learned on past assignments that a scared dog could be every bit as dangerous as an aggressive one.
    Much like people.
    He wasn’t the type to cry uncle, but animal rescue folks used tools for this job for a good reason.
    â€œUm, hello,” he called lowly. “Can someone bring a catchpole before Cujo in here turns me into a Milk-Bone?”
    Hopefully someone outside heard him. The team of four consisted of two employees from county Animal Control and two from the Second Chance Ranch Rescue.
    â€œShhh, shhh, shhh.” He made what he hoped were soothing noises. “I’m not here to hurt you, puppy. Be good and there are people here who will get you a bed and food. I’ll personally make sure you get a grade-A hamburger if you keep your teeth to yourself.”
    A one in four chance Mary Hannah would show up. She was thin, short and