Escape in Passion: Book 2

“Officer, oh, officer. I need your help.”

Turning his attention to the high pitched voice, Vic saw the elderly woman running towards him. Instinct kicked in; he prepared himself for the worst. “Is there a problem, Mrs. Dunbar?”

“Yes, yes, oh, dear, dear me.”

“Just relax, Mrs. Dunbar. Take a deep breath and tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s Mr. Jingles, oh, Lord, he’s stuck under the tree.”

“Did you call for help?” Vic asked, rushing along with the woman as she led him to her house.

“I was just about to go into the house and call, but then I saw you. Thank God. You have to help him.”

“Okay, just relax. Was he conscious when you left him?”

“Oh yes, and yelling his head off.”

“Okay, that’s good. What part of him is under the tree?” Vic pulled out his radio and was about to call in for backup when she spoke.

“His tail.”

He paused not just in step, but thought as well. “Come again?”

“His tail. I heard him crying, so I went out to see where he’d gotten to, and I found him stuck under the tree.”

“His tail?”

“Yes,” she said with exasperation, leading him to the back of the house. “See.”

One look and Vic wanted to curse out loud. “That’s a cat.” And like she’d said, it was screaming its head off.

“It’s Mr. Jingles. I don’t know how he got himself stuck to the base of the tree. You have to help him, please, officer.”

Letting out a deep breath, Vic walked up to the tree. Yep, she was right, the cat was stuck and apparently not just his tail, but it looked like his butt as well. Vic couldn’t help but laugh.

“This is no laughing matter, officer.”

He didn’t bother to correct her in regards to his rank but did stop laughing. Or at least he did his best not to laugh. “Okay, let’s see what I can do.” Biting his tongue, Vic knelt down to the cat, who looked like he was ready to shred anything that came near him. Thank God for the regulation work gloves Vic wore. He pushed some snow away from the cat to get a better look. “Well, looks like I solved this one quickly.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Looks like Mr. Tinkles—”

“Jingles,” she corrected.

“Jingles, sorry, has gotten his butt stuck on his own urine.” Vic looked down at the panicked cat. “Don’t you know that when it’s this cold out, you shouldn’t put your butt down when you’re taking a leak?” he chastised the cat while he hissed and swiped his front paws at Vic.

“Can you help him?”

“I think I can. What I need you to do is go inside, run some hot water into a bucket and bring it out to me.” The instant she hurried to the house, Vic let the laughter roll. How could he not find humor in the situation when the damn cat’s ass was frozen to the snow because of his own piss? “See, that’s where dogs are smarter. They lift their legs to pee and, therefore, prevent having their balls and ass stick to the snow.”

“Here we go.”

Biting his lip, Vic took the bucket of hot water from Mrs. Dunbar and knelt back down to the cat. “Now, be a good kitty and don’t claw my eyes out when I free you.”

“Don’t hurt my baby,” Mrs. Dunbar pleaded.

Nodding to her, Vic just hoped he wasn’t the one that got hurt. “Here we go.” Tilting the bucket, Vic began to pour the water beside the cat, in hopes it would melt the snow and release Mr. Jingles. The cat hissed, began to claw wildly, kicking up snow in his fight to free himself.

“Mr. Jingles!” Mrs. Dunbar cried out.

Because he worried the cat would rip its balls off, Vic placed one hand on top of his back while he poured the rest of the water. It wasn’t easy holding Mr. Jingles down; the cat was large, fat but strong, and put up a good struggle. The water melted the snow which released him from the spot he was frozen to, and Vic managed to scoop up the cat with both hands before it managed to run away. “Hold up there, big guy. Let’s check you out.”

“Is he alright?”

The cat fought like it was being murdered and managed to dig his claws right through the thick leather gloves Vic wore. He cursed under his breath, shifting the wiggling cat to check out his backside.

That had been a major mistake.

Mr. Jingles wiggled, Vic lost his grip and the cat lunged at him, clinging to his jacket. And if that wasn’t bad enough, Mr. Jingles took one carefully aimed swipe at Vic’s face and scratched him right across his left cheek.

“Son of a bitch!” He dropped Mr. Jingles, and the cat instantly ran for the house.

“Mr. Jingles,” Mrs. Dunbar cried, racing to the house.

“You’re welcome,” Vic called out, dabbing at the fire on his cheek. “Brutal bastard,” he muttered under his breath, trudging his way through the alley and away from Satan’s spawn. Damn cat.

With his gloved hand, Vic covered the wound as he marched his way home. Do someone a favor and look what you end up with. What had his life come to? He’d resorted to freeing cats frozen to the snow because the feline was too stupid to take a piss inside when it was cold. Six months ago he’d been investigating major crimes, and now he was freeing stupid cats from the snow.

Lord, what had he been thinking?

“Well, hello, handsome.”

Glancing over, Vic smiled at the beautiful blonde with big, blue eyes and replied in a sexy growl, “Well, hello yourself.”

Finally, things were looking up.