Unleashed (A Sydney Rye Novel, # 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

long.”
    “I didn’t think so.” I spotted two women on a bench on the other side of the run watching us. “You see, usually, when a dog you’re responsible for is being a bully…” She raised her eyebrows at me, and I realized I was being lectured. “…You should intervene.” I sat in silence, looking at her as she looked at me.
    “OK,” I finally said. I looked over to where Snowball and the poodle were playing happily. “Not now?” I asked.
    “No not now, now is too late. I’m talking about what they did to that puppy.”
    “So this is for my future reference.”
    She smiled, pleased with my grasp of the situation. “Exactly.”
    “Okay.”
    “I’m Marcia.” She held her hand out. I put mine in it. We shook. Her hand was rough and her grip strong.
    “Joy.”
    “Nice to meet you, Joy.”
    “You’re a dog-walker.” I wanted to see if her trick of stating facts worked both ways.
    “Sure am.” She didn’t seem to notice. “And that’s Elaine and Fiona.” She motioned toward the bench down the yard. They waved. I waved back.
    “You're all dog-walkers.”
    “That's right.”
    “You like it?” I asked.
    She smiled. “Love it. I’ve been doing this for most my life.”
    “You know I didn’t even realize it was a profession until recently.” Marcia looked dumbfounded. “You know, I’d just never thought about it,” I said, trying to make up for my obvious blunder. That made two in about as many minutes. Snowball jumped up onto the bench next to me, panting. I used it as an excuse to leave. “It was nice meeting you,” I told Marcia as I stood.
    “See you around,” she said.
    My next charge, Snaffles, a Jack Russell terrier owned by Mr. and Mrs. Saperstein, ran up and down the length of the kitchen, which was blocked off from the rest of the apartment by a child safety gate. He inhaled the three-fourths-of-a-cup of kibble I measured into his bowl and then continued his bounding and running while I tried to get the leash on him. Once the leash was attached, he stopped running and concentrated on killing it. Snaffles shook the leash with the gusto a wolf might use when taking out a bunny.
    On the street he pissed on the trees, the parking meters, the trash bags, and when he ran out of pee, he kept raising his leg nonetheless. It took us the full 45 minutes just to get around the block. I returned him to his kitchen at two exactly, and, as I left, I heard the clicking of his claws while he raced back and forth and back and forth.
    I left the Sapersteins’ building and walked two doors down to walk the Maxims’ golden retriever who, according to my notes, was named Toby. I nodded at the doorman. He was wearing a hunter-green jacket with puffed riding jodhpurs and knee-high boots. At the front desk, I was directed to a bank of elevators. A key from my envelope allowed me to push the button for the penthouse. When the golden doors of the elevator opened, I was standing in an ornate foyer. An elaborate flower arrangement stood on a pier table next to a large, imposing, dark, wooden door.
    His whole body wagging, Toby welcomed me into the house. A wall of windows, with a view of the glittering river below and Queens in the distance, flooded the two-story room with light. It reflected off the polished wood floor and bathed three teal couches—one of which had the imprint of Toby’s body in it—in bright, white sunlight. To the left, a spiral staircase curled up through the ceiling. Toby waited patiently, apparently used to the awe that the room inspired.
    I found the kitchen when I walked through a door on the right side of the living room. The kitchen had floor-to-ceiling windows with the same view as the living room. Inside the enormous Subzero refrigerator, I found a Tupperware container labeled “Toby’s lunch.”
    After he’d finished his mix of specialty frozen meats topped with several different powdered supplements, Toby pulled me through the lobby and out onto the street. He