Larger Than Life by Alison Kent (read the beginning after the end novel .txt) 📕

shaved around the stitches. "Ouch. That must've really hurt, huh?" When his tongue came out and he licked at her face, she laughed. But then she started to cry. She sat down on the concrete pad beside him, wrapped her arms around him, and sobbed into his stinky fur.

She hated being pathetic, but that's how she felt. Like no one was on her side. Like she was stuck in some bad movie or nightmare and any door she opened to find her way out would lead her in a big fat circle right back into the same room. She was never going to get out. Or else she was going to get killed for something she hadn't even done.

That night last week when Jase had said he had something important to tell her, she thought it would be about taking her away—not about running away. And she sure didn't think it would be about him stealing money from people who would kill him if they found out. Now she couldn't help but wonder how many of the bad guys knew she'd been with him that night.

"So tell me, dog. What am I going to do with my life?" She pulled away to look him in the face. He cocked his head to one side. His ears flopped forward. His big brown eyes stared into hers. "You really do need a bath, you know," she said, and he licked her again.

"Okay, okay. You win. We'll just sit here a few more minutes first. See if we can figure out the secrets of the universe. And a good name for you." When he laid his head in her lap, she stroked his back, her heart swelling with the way he wanted to stay close. Like he really needed her. "Something like Freckles. Or Buster."

She wondered if she could keep him if no one showed up, or if his owner never was found. Having an animal of her own, one who loved her, one she could talk to, would make being on her own a lot easier. Two against the world and all that. A girl and her dog. The thought made her smile.

At least until she looked up and into Candy's scowling face. "I don't see any water being used back here."

Liberty sighed, slid out from under Buster, and stood to dust off the seat of the blue jeans they'd found for her to wear. "I'm doing it, okay? I was just making sure he knew I wasn't going to hurt him or anything."

She grabbed the end of the hose, the bottle of shampoo, and turned on the water, drowning out whatever else Candy had to say. Now that she had Buster on her side, Liberty wasn't going to let anyone else get to her.

No matter how much she wished she could go back in time and choose someone besides Jase to help her find a better life.

Mick slept away the biggest part of the day in the clinic, unsure when he finally woke how much time had passed since his rescue. He wasn't even sure how long he'd lain out on the side of the road before Neva had stopped and hauled him into her truck. A day, he thought, at the most.

One thing he did know was that he needed to fetch FM from wherever the vet was keeping him and get the data from the flash cards in the dog's collar to SG-5's ops center ASAP. The longer it took him to feed his intel back to the Smithson Group, the more money Spectra would launder. And the harder it would become to tie the crime syndicate to any of the funds.

He also knew that for the next few days he'd feel like he'd been beaten to bloody hell. His shoulder and his bum were the worst. The dislocation and reduction left him aching and sore, but he hadn't lost any feeling or the use of his arm. No nerve damage. No broken bones. Amazing, when he should be pushing up daisies considering the ass-over-tits ride that had gotten him here.

Here, looking up into the bright lights of the small room into which Dr. Hill had moved him once Neva had left. The doc hadn't seemed too thrilled to finish up with FM and return to find Neva, along with most of Mick's clothing, gone. Mick hadn't said a word. He'd enjoyed watching the physician stew about the woman he wanted who obviously didn't want him. It upped Mick's intrigue factor about Neva Case.

He levered himself up onto his good elbow then swung his legs over the table's side, hissing as he put more weight on his bruised backside. The sheet covering him settled around his waist. Water, food, clothes, and a plan. He'd take them in whatever order he could get them. Though, he decided wryly as the sheet slid lower in his lap, he'd do good to start with pants.

He'd just fastened the sheet toga style—not particularly easy with one arm in a sling—when a knock sounded on the door. "Yeah, I'm up. Come in."

Dr. Hill pushed open the door and did just that, Mick's boots in hand along with socks, boxers, jeans, and a white T-shirt. He dropped the load into the room's one-piece black plastic chair, signaling for Mick to hop back onto the very same table from which he'd just managed to make his way down.

"Let's check your vitals again before you go." The doc readied his stethoscope, reached for the blood pressure cuff on the wall at the head of the table. "The clothes might be a tight fit, but they should do you until you can change them out for your own."

"I appreciate it, mate." Mick tried not to cringe and bawl like a baby when he settled down to sit, or when the tape of the bandages pulled hair in all the wrong places. "I'll get them back to you soon as I can."

The doctor didn't respond until he'd finished