Upholding the Paw Read Online Free

they were walking. If they didn’t step on a dog’s tail, they stepped in its poop. Really, humans could be so stupid sometimes. You wouldn’t catch a dog doing something so dumb. But, then again, the species Canis familiaris was superior in so many ways to mere Homo sapiens . The poor things sported only patchy hair, requiring them to augment with clothing. Their teeth were incapable of ripping through thick meat, requiring them to use forks and knives. Their vision and hearing were vastly subpar, too. Brigit pitied the lowly creatures.
    Her partner Megan reached down and gave her a scratch on that sweet spot on the back of her neck. “Good girl.”
    Brigit risked a quick tail thump of appreciation and took the liver treat Megan held clenched between her index finger and thumb. My kingdom for an opposable thumb. It was the only thing about humans the dog envied.

Chapter Six
    Like Candy from a Baby
    The Switchman
    Hot damn , this feels good!
    All his life he’d done the right things. He’d told the truth. Worked hard. Ate his vegetables—even those disgusting, squishy, boiled Brussel sprouts his mother had foisted on him.
    And where had being a good person gotten him?
    Nowhere.
    But he’d changed all that today. In just a matter of minutes he’d gone from nowhere to on his way . Hell, he’d never even held a gun before today. What a rush! He’d felt powerful. In control. But most of all, he felt vindicated .
    Smokestack might have cajoled him into the bank heist, but he’d been right. Only a wimp would accept being tossed out on his ass without fighting back.
    Nice guys finish last.
    No more Mr. Nice Guy.
    The Switchman sat back in his seat on the front row of the bus and slapped his knee. “Who knew robbing a bank and hijacking a bus would be so easy?”
    Smokestack, who sat directly across the aisle, sniggered. “Told ya.”
    Smokestack had also claimed that ninety percent of crimes went unsolved. The Switchman figured his partner had pulled that number either out of the air or out of his ass. He hadn’t called the guy on it, though. It didn’t matter what the odds were of getting caught. Once he’d decided to go through with this plan of retribution, there was no way he’d turn back. He’d laid out a whole new course for himself and he couldn’t wait to see where it would take him.

Chapter Seven
    The Buck Might Stop Here but the Bus Doesn’t
    Megan
    The bus driver squinted, as if doing so would somehow help him better see the mental vision of the bus-jackers in his mind. “All three wore sunglasses and hats with ear flaps. The taller white guy wore a plaid flannel one with button-down flaps. The black man wore a tan one with fleece on the edges. The shorter white guy wore a knit one with those yarn braids hanging down the sides. His hat was green with big eyes on top.”
    â€œUna rana,” clarified a Latina woman who stood at the front of the crowd that had gathered around me.
    â€œA frog?” I’d learned some basic Spanish, and obtained my Spanish surname, from my father. From my red-haired Irish American mother, I’d inherited a tendency to freckle and that quick temper I mentioned.
    â€œSí,” the woman replied.
    I jotted some notes on my pad and looked up again. “What about the rest of their clothes?”
    The people exchanged uncertain glances.
    â€œLoose windbreakers, I think,” said the bus driver.
    â€œNo,” insisted a blonde woman with a chubby-cheeked toddler on her hip. “They were wearing oversize sweatshirts.”
    â€œNo no no.” A gray-haired man raised a palm. “I’m sure they were in sports jerseys.”
    â€œWhich teams?”
    The man who’d been so sure only a second ago now seemed uncertain, offering only a shrug in response.
    I sighed inwardly. “Can we at least agree on a color?”
    No consensus there, either. The responses