Out of Control Read Online Free PDF Page A

to use what weapons were available to him. Now there was a concept she could relate to.
    She peeled off her clammy workout gear as she trailed into the kitchen after Mikey, and ran a basin full of water with a capful of laundry soap. Mikey climbed into his basket, did his compulsive three and a half turns, and flopped down with a dejected sigh.
    She let out a dejected sigh herself as she dunked her spandex into the suds. A quickie shower in her mildewy bathroom was next, after which some sloppy sweatpants, her big Superman T-shirt, and she felt almost human. She rummaged for her comb in the basket on her dresser. Her fingers closed around the heavy gold snake pendant.
    She pulled the thing out and tried to stare down the sense of dread it gave her. She wished the thief had taken this instead of her laptop. It was worth more money, and she would have been grateful to be rid of it. She should pawn the nasty thing. The money would be tainted, but she’d get over it. Vet bills had to be paid somehow.
    She knew why she hung onto it, though she didn’t like to admit it. The pendant was the only key she had to the nightmare puzzle her life had become. It was like a magical talisman. If she got rid of it, she might be trapped in this lonesome gray nowhere forever. No way out.
    Whoops, don’t go there. She couldn’t let herself think that way, even briefly. The only way to keep her sanity was to stay focused on the present moment. Breathing in, breathing out, and grateful to be alive.
    She headed into the kitchen and hunkered down next to Mikey’s basket, fully prepared to grovel. He’d curled up into a ball, graying muzzle buried between his paws. Eyes tight shut. No wags, no licks, no yips, no friendly interaction of any kind. It was the doggie deep freeze.
    â€œHey. Mikey. Don’t you want some dinner?” she asked.
    Mikey was far above such obvious bribery. He didn’t twitch so much as a whisker. Margot got up and rummaged through the cupboard for the dog treats. She waved one in front of his nose.
    He opened one slitted eye and gave her his patented “as if ” look.
    â€œThis isn’t fair,” she told him. “I’m leaving you at that kennel to protect you from Snakey, you ungrateful little snot. I can’t afford it, either. I’m still in hock to the vet for your last fight. That dog was ten times your size, but did you think about that before you got mouthy?”
    Mikey indicated with a snuffling grunt that dogs will be dogs, and she could stick her budget problems where the sun didn’t shine.
    â€œBesides, you owe me,” she reminded him. “You’d be roadkill if it weren’t for me, fur-face.”
    No go. Mikey wasn’t coming down off his high horse tonight.
    Margot sagged down next to his basket and concentrated on petting him the way he liked best, a gentle stroke from brow to nape with an extra against-the-grain rub around the ears on the upswing. He allowed her touch, but refused to respond to it. She ran her fingers through his silky hair, careful to avoid the shaved spots around his stitches. A relic from his run-in with a bad-ass stray in the park.
    Mikey was a scrappy little guy. She admired that about him, even when it cost her money. He didn’t know when to shut his big mouth. A lot like yours truly, so it’s not like she could point fingers.
    She was whipped, but she really should work on her web design business, or plod away at her private amateur murder investigation.
    The thought zipped through her mind before she remembered that she no longer had her laptop. The rat bastard thief had it now.
    Gah. She was squeezed dry tonight anyhow. Nothing left but pulp. Up before dawn to get Mikey to the pet hotel before her waitressing shift, then she schlepped downtown to do a lunchtime body sculpting class and aerobics class at a health club that catered to corporate types, and then the evening classes at Women’s Wellness.