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by K. A. Laity

"You should have been nicer to me," Carlotta said as she stood over me with the tire iron.

"I see that now." I tried to get up, but my leg kept making that terrible crunching sound. Nonetheless I persisted. "It's not too late. I could mend my ways."

A feeble attempt that; one she wasn't buying.

Carlotta smirked. "I'm taking the cash. I'm going to Tenerife." She paused and then smiled. Something in its cold glow should have warned me. "I'm taking Malcolm, too."

That hurt more than the puncture in my lung.

"He won't go. He'd never trust you."

Carlotta laughed and tossed the iron into the trunk with me. The tip caught my broken wrist and it shrieked with pain, which only made her laugh harder. She leaned in and said with obvious relish, "He'll come wagging his tail behind him."

"Don't do it," I hissed, but she closed the lid on my protests. I heard the engine start, then the car jerked into motion. I wished the pain would bring me swift oblivion. It was just too much. I could forgive her betrayal, but my dog?

That broke my heart.