I paced to keep my head from exploding. “Baby, this is not good. According to my dad, Jackson Abernathy, the mayor, was dishonorably discharged from the Army.”
If I’d been paying attention, I would have noticed the change in Baby’s demeanor. He stood up. His ears went up. His body was tense. He growled and then charged around the corner.
“Baby, come,” I screamed.
But he wasn’t listening. Baby stood in attack mode. Every muscle in his body was flexed and ready to pounce. He bared his teeth and drool dripped from the sides of his mouth.
In the kitchen, Jackson Abernathy was backed up to the counter with a knife in his hand. “Call off your attack dog. If he so much as scratches me, I’ll have him put down.”
“That won’t be necessary.” I grabbed Baby’s collar. “Baby, stop.” I said it with more confidence than I felt.
Like the well-behaved dog that he was, Baby stopped barking. However, he was tense. I could feel the tension. His hair stood up, and he stared at the mayor as though one false move and he’d take a bite out of him. Every fiber of his being longed to lunge.
Abernathy pointed his knife in Baby’s direction. “Take him out. I don’t trust him.”
“Fine.” I took Baby outside and put him in the Range Rover. I made sure the windows were down for ventilation but not enough to allow him to escape. You’d think someone who raises English mastiffs would know how to handle them. I reentered the building.
In the kitchen, Jackson Abernathy stood with his back to me.
“Baby won’t bother you. He’s locked up.”
Jackson Abernathy turned around slowly. He still had the knife in his hand, but this time, it was pointed at me. “Good. We wouldn’t want that mutt getting in the way, now would we?”
