"Catch and release, my ass!" Grunting, I shoved the stray facedown over the trunk of Marc's car, snatching back my free hand just in time to avoid his teeth as they snapped together. The bastard was half again my size, and thrashing like a…well, like a scared cat, determined to shred anything he could get his hands on—including me.
Several feet behind me, Marc watched, no doubt mentally noting every aspect of my performance so he could recreate it later for my father. So far, I hadn't given him much good to report.
Beating prowlers senseless to teach them a lesson was one thing; I'd easily mastered most of the common scare tactics. But this whole chase them down and haul them out approach? That was bullshit. Complete and total idiocy. What was my father thinking?
The only stroke of luck I'd had all evening was that the stray had fled to a deserted make out spot on the outskirts of Dumas, Arkansas. If he'd headed toward the town lights instead of away from them, I'd never ...
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