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it was definitely nicked and swollen, and according to them, there aren’t any other dogs on the farms nearest them. It doesn’t mean a dog from somewhere else in Cedar Glen didn’t have a go at Mookie, but as tight as this community is, I have to doubt the pet owner wouldn’t offer their apologies to the Browns. Also, Max made it clear to me when I first arrived here in Cedar Glen, there were no hunts out of respect for Hector and his love of bunnies. So I have to wonder if it’s a shifter doing this, seeing as Max would see their heads roll. The fear of punishment should be pretty clear.”
    Viv stroked Leviticus’s head, soothing him to keep him still as Jagger examined him; the lights inside the van shining down on the patient’s small body were harsh and bright. Hector was adorable, and as nuts about all creatures great and small as Viv was.
    In fact, she planned to get to know Hector better because he was such a gentle, if not quirky soul.
    “JC told me the same. I don’t know Hector very well, but if he inspired a no-hunt policy—for werewolves, no less—he’s a pretty serious animal lover. So who do you think is doing this? Who’s left?”
    Because again, she couldn’t stop thinking that was some damn ugly bite on the Schnauzer’s backside. It spanned his skin, the flesh torn and jagged. Did werewolves have jaws this big?
    Jesus. What kind of town had she moved to?
    Jagger filled a syringe with anesthesia and paused. “I can’t determine what it is because his flesh is too torn up. But twice in one day is too much of a coincidence. I think I need to bring Max in and we’ll put our heads together. Something’s just not sitting right with me. For now, can you just hold him still while I make this as painless as possible?”
    Without a word, Viv leaned down and looked into the Schnauzer’s dark eyes, melting at how complacent and gentle he was, lying so helpless. “Who’s a good boy, Leviticus?” she whispered into his ear, keeping her voice low and even. “Lie still now, buddy. It’ll only pinch for a second.”
    Jagger inserted the needle with but a small flinch from Leviticus, who’d curled his muzzle into her hand, moaning out a soft whimper.
    Viv hadn’t even realized she’d set about grabbing the necessities to clean the dog’s wounds until she’d lined them up on the small countertop to Jagger’s left, when they’d first entered the van and as he’d settled Leviticus on the examining table.
    After cleaning the wound while Viv stroked Leviticus’s ears and rubbed her nose against his, Jagger threaded a needle, smiling at her.
    “You know your way around a place like this, huh?” He hitched his jaw at the antiseptic and cotton swabs.
    Viv smiled back when the Schnauzer finally closed his eyes and relaxed with a soft sigh. “I do. I’ve spent many, many nights in emergency care with one stray or abused-slash-abandoned animal or another.”
    And she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed this very thing until tonight. The months since that bastard had run off with her family’s money had been spent trying to figure out how to survive, how to help her parents cope with losing everything they’d worked so hard for.
    She hadn’t been involved in much rescue since that all began. But tonight reminded her of what she loved most was the connection she felt with any creature in need of a home, medical attention, love. That familiar twist of compassion in her heart left her feeling involved, as though she was making a small difference.
    “So you rescued strays, you said. Tell me about that,” Jagger said with obvious interest, his hands gentle as he stitched up Leviticus.
    She shrugged with a smile. “I’ve always been an animal lover. Even before I knew I was of the feline persuasion myself. I can’t stand when any animal is dumped or alone, hungry, abused. It literally tears my heart up into little pieces. So, as a former rich girl who couldn’t seem to settle on a