Read The Midnight Dog of the Repo Man for Free Online

up a lot in a couple of weeks.”
    â€œYou threw me in!”
    â€œIs that your interpretation?”
    He began struggling toward shore, his sodden clothes weighing him down. He was back to being difficult to understand, though I thought I caught the words “police” and “lawyer” as he thrashed.
    I looked at Jake, who was sitting down and regarding me with what I thought were sad, pleading eyes. I opened my mouth to tell him he couldn’t live with me—I’d have to take him to the pound, maybe, or some rescue organization. But the words couldn’t come out, not in the face of those sorrowful brown eyes.
    I was Ruddy McCann, repo man. I was broke, lived alone, and didn’t have any hobbies beyond breaking up bar fights. It was hardly the kind of situation to bring a dog into.
    But what kind of existence did the dog have now? Jake was watching me, his fate in my hands. I realized then that my black mood had vanished—tossing Montgomery into the drink seemed to have put everything back into balance. Maybe having a Jake in my life would make things a little better for me, a little easier. And maybe if he did that for me, I could return the favor, give him a better life, too.
    Montgomery was finally in water shallow enough to allow him to stand. He wasn’t looking at me as he waded ashore, water streaming onto the grass. His expensive clothes hung in wet wads and his hair was plastered to his head. It was a good look for him.
    I reached in my pocket for the keys to the Cadillac.
    â€œLet’s go, Jake,” I said to the dog, who brightened at his name. We walked back to the parking lot and my new companion had a jaunty skip in his step—my drenching Montgomery had lifted Jake’s mood, too. But he pulled up short as we approached the Cadillac, its trunk still yawning open.
    â€œNo, it’s okay, boy,” I said. I slammed the trunk, but he still seemed unmollified, sitting down and regarding me with a glum expression. I opened the driver’s side door. “Come on, Jake. You ride up here with me.”
    Jake’s look was full of wonder. I stood waiting. He glanced between me and the interior of the car, then seemed to reach a decision. He trotted over and joyously leaped inside.
    I slid in. “Move over, little guy,” I told him. He obligingly settled into the passenger seat, sitting so that he could look out the windshield and help me drive.
    â€œYou’re a front-seat dog now, Jake. Drool all you want,” I advised. I patted the check in my pocket before starting the car and heading toward home with my new dog.

READ ON FOR A PREVIEW OF
    The Midnight Plan of the Repo Man
    W. Bruce Cameron
    Available in hardcover and e-book in Fall 2014 from Tom Doherty Associates
    A FORGE BOOK

    Copyright © 2014 by W. Bruce Cameron
    Â 
chapter

ONE
    C OMPUTERS and insurance companies call me Ruddick McCann—to everyone else I’m just Ruddy. I work for a collateral recovery agency run by a guy named Milton Kramer. When people can’t make their car payments, I help them get back on their feet.
    I’m a Repo Man. Get it? “Back on their feet.” That was repo humor, there.
    I’ve been relieving people of the burdens of automobile ownership for more than six years and I still don’t understand why it is necessary. If you can’t afford to make your car payments, why not just drive it back to the dealership and hand over the keys, instead of making Ruddy McCann come after you?
    Today I was looking for a twenty-five-year-old man named, of all things, Albert Einstein. Albert Einstein Croft was his full name, though I suspected everyone called him Einstein— how could you resist? He worked on the assembly line at a place called PlasMerc manufacturing—something told me he wasn’t exactly living up to his parents’ expectations as far as his intelligence.
    The PlasMerc factory had only been open a few years and