by April Hunt
The real question he should be asking was whether Lyn’s father was involved. Seemed likely. Maybe that was the lead Cruz needed to follow. He headed for his office.
“Fooey!” Not a quiet correction this time. Rojas was yards away and straining to hold an eighty-five-pound GSD on a leash.
Growling low and throwing all of his weight against Rojas, something had set the dog off. Cruz followed the dog’s line of sight to the front gate and saw a sleek Belgian Malinois running at top speed up the driveway.
What the…?
“Atlas! Hier!” Cruz called, reaching for a leash—any leash—off the wall.
Atlas didn’t need to change course. He was already headed directly for Cruz. Then a lean figure cleared the tree line in obvious pursuit, weapon up and aimed at Atlas.
Chapter Twenty-One
Cruz yanked out his smartphone and activated voice recognition.
“Incoming. Single gunman. Opening fire on Atlas.”
The text went to Forte and Rojas as a pre-set group.
Something was wrong. Very wrong. If Atlas was here, where the hell was Lyn? And what could happen to make Atlas leave her? Cruz could imagine several scenarios, none of them good.
Cruz bent to retrieve his gun from the hidden holster at his ankle. Staying close to the main house for cover, he moved to meet up with Atlas.
The intruder opened fire on Atlas as the dog approached, but the man had taken the shot on the move. Dumbass. It went wide, kicking up dirt to one side of the dog’s path. Not a surprise.
Thank God the only people at the kennels currently were Cruz, Forte, and Rojas. Gunfire wasn’t new to them. But shit, Rojas and Forte would be irritated as hell if any of them caught a bullet. Cruz was already pissed. Worse, any of the dogs on the property were at risk.
Gunshot or no, Atlas wasn’t deterred or distracted. True to his training, he headed straight for his objective: Cruz.
Another shot fired. Cruz cursed and took aim. He didn’t want to put a bullet in a person if he didn’t have to, even if he was on Hope’s Crossing Kennels property, but the asshole was shooting at his dog.
Suddenly he heard the sound of other dogs barking on approach and he grinned. Atlas reached him as three German shepherds streaked past them toward the intruder. Rojas must have set them loose. Perfect distraction and with three of them, the gunman wasn’t likely to have time to single out a target and hit any one of them.
Handy to have rescued Schutzhund-trained guard dogs on hand. Socialization was not a primary concern at the moment. They had the experience and training to do exactly what was needed—intimidate the hell out of the intruder and potentially neutralize the threat.
The man stopped in his tracks and even from this distance, Cruz could see him go pale at the sight. Hell, Cruz wouldn’t be thrilled in the face of the oncoming canines either. He’d be looking for a tree or wall to climb. Fences weren’t a safe bet because most German shepherds and Belgian Malinois could climb those even without specialized training.
Backpedaling, the man tripped and fell on his ass, his baseball cap falling off to expose more of his face. And he looked incredibly familiar.
Cruz put a leash on Atlas as Rojas and Forte arrived, armed and looking grim. The three men advanced on the man cowering in the center of three GSDs. Now that they had him at bay, if he so much as moved, they’d be on him ripping and tearing. Two of them were holding position—barking and snarling—making one hell of a racket. The third and largest was bristling and baring his teeth, but he was silent.
Dangerous, that one. He was the likeliest to break and attack the man physically.
Rojas must’ve shared the assessment, striding around to leash the biggest dog first. Forte took a position between the other two and leashed them.
“I wouldn’t relax if I were you.” Cruz figured it was only fair to warn the man. “There’s enough slack in all these leashes to let these dogs ruin your day.”
Possibly his life. It all depended on how far things went. The three GSDs were trained to rip and tear, possibly break bone. Atlas was trained to go for a kill bite.
Speaking of Atlas, now that the intruder was essentially neutralized, Cruz turned his attention to the big dog. Panting heavily, Atlas must have run a decent distance at high speed. If he’d known his way, he might’ve gone as fast as he could. No telling where he’d been freed and how familiar he’d been with the area. Lyn and Cruz had taken Atlas for long walks as far as five to eight miles away in both directions along the main road next to the kennel. So chances were, Atlas had been close to home when he’d gotten loose.
Taking a knee, Cruz ran his hands over Atlas checking for injuries. No blood, no bullet holes or grazes.
“Any damage?” Forte made the question curt, expressionless. No need to give the prisoner any impressions to go on.
Cruz shook his head. “No. He’s run hard though. He’ll need to be cooled down.”
Not an immediate need but soon. There was a higher priority and Atlas would agree.
Forte nodded sharply, then focused on the intruder. “You want to tell me why you are on my land, opening fire on a dog under our care?”
“Dog’s not yours.” The other man’s answer was sullen, belligerent.
“And you would know, wouldn’t you?” Cruz jerked his chin at the man. “This is the guy who was following our lady friends in New Hope.”
The man knew Lyn’s name for sure but he might not know Sophie’s. No need to give him information.
Still, at the mention of Sophie, Forte’s grim expression darkened and chilled. Not a good combination for the intruder. “I think we’re going to have a little chat while we wait for the police to arrive then.”
“Get up.” Rojas barked out the words.
“Fuck that. Damned dogs will eat me.” The intruder grimaced, but didn’t move a muscle. He was staring at Atlas.
Seemed the man had seen what a working dog could do. Maybe he’d witnessed what Atlas specifically could do.
“Stay where you are and we’ll let them loose.” Forte sounded almost cheerful and let up on the leashes of the two smaller GSDs just enough to let them loom closer. “Do as we say, you have a better chance of walking away with your skin intact.”
The man swore and scrambled to his feet, holding out his hands palms open. His gun lay forgotten a few feet away where Rojas had discreetly shoved it with a foot.
“Not fond of dogs?” Forte didn’t even bother sounding nice about the question. “Maybe you should get to know these a little better since you tried to shoot one of them.”
* * *
“Sit the fuck down and don’t make a sound or I’ll gag you ’til you choke.” Zuccolin’s mood had only gotten worse during the drive.
They’d broken speed limits getting here but seemed like everyone did on the main highway. Their car had only gone with the flow of traffic and there’d been no lucky police stop to give her the chance to scream for help.
Lyn stumbled to the chair and sat. When the other man grabbed her arm, she jerked free and pain blinded her again as Zuccolin struck her across the face.
“Don’t hit her again.” The voice echoed inside her skull as she blinked to clear her vision.
“Sir, she’s caused a shit-ton of trouble.” Zuccolin’s tone had changed abruptly. Being around a commanding officer would do that to a man.
“She was not your objective. Her presence is going to be a serious issue and you will answer for this problem.” The tone was flat, cold, and horrifyingly familiar. “Do not ever hit her again, for any reason. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir.” Zuccolin stepped away as the other man finished duct-taping her elbows to the arms of the chair. Her wrists were still bound.
But she wasn’t gagged yet and she craned her neck to get a look at the officer. “Captain Jones.”
Her stepfather sighed and stepped farther into her peripheral vision. “Insisting you use family titles at this moment would be useless. You should not be here at all.”
She knew that tone. Her stepfather was in a cold, quiet rage. The kind that snuck up on the cause and exploded in ways a person never forgot. What made it scarier was not knowing when he’d actually snap and lash out.
Had he thought she wouldn’t get tangled up in this mess? “You backed me. Made sure I got on this project.”
“You were to do what you do best: rehabilitate the dog. Get close. Report back to me.” Her stepfather clasped his hands behind his back and shook his head. “If you stumbled across the video, I took steps to ensure you didn’t have time to understand what it was you had. I could assure my business partner that you didn’t know enough to be a danger to our business interests. If you’d have followed your instructions you’d have moved forward in your career none the wiser of this situation and the better for it.”
“Well, good to know your reasoning was logical.” Lyn let the derision creep up in her voice, not caring about antagonizing the person currently keeping her safe. She was tired of letting him hold her well-being over her head. “And here I was worried I might owe you when really, I was doing you a favor. I was spying for you.”
“Yes.” He didn’t even have the grace to express guilt over it.
But for her, it washed over her and drowned her. She provided her clients with status reports as a standard practice. Fine. And providing them to her stepfather had been an irritation because he’d turned them from a professional courtesy into a way for him to control her. But somewhere in there, she should have recognized when they hadn’t felt right anymore. When she’d started avoiding telling David about them. That was when she’d stopped being naïve and started betraying him.
“What are you going to do with me now?” She wiggled in the chair and raised an eyebrow at him. There was a certain level of ridiculous to her current position but she also wasn’t delusional. He wasn’t going to let her go. Not now.
Silence.
“Sergeant Zuccolin.”
The sergeant snapped to attention. “Yes, sir.”
“Where is the animal?”
Well, at least she wasn’t in the current spotlight. She listened as Zuccolin gave a halting report of what had transpired from his arrival at Hope’s Crossing Kennels to the warehouse. And she was going to hell in a hand basket because she took some pleasure out of listening to the bitterness in Zuccolin’s words as he had to describe how an itty bitty lady civilian let loose their target.
“I see.” If anything, her stepfather’s tone became more monotone. He was not pleased.
“Sir, Evans set out to intercept. He’ll bring back the dog.” Zuccolin definitely had lost his confidence.
“Evans is as likely to kill the animal as anything else.” Her stepfather began pacing. “This has escalated into a complete clusterfuck and I’m holding you directly responsible.”
Apparently, Zuccolin had some experience with her stepfather’s arctic anger, too, because the man had gone pale.
It took a minute for Lyn to realize she was the one laughing. Okay, maybe she was going into shock or sliding into hysteria. Neither was good because she needed to use her brain. She focused on her stepfather. “Whatever this is, did you actually expect it to stay all neat and tidy the way you planned it?”
His jaw tightened as he studied her. “If it had been my plan in the first place, it would have been executed efficiently and without complications. Unfortunately, I joined this particular project in later stages, once the dog was already back on domestic soil.”
Well, it was good to know her stepfather hadn’t been a part of David’s friend’s death. A tiny relief in the midst of this insanity. She wasn’t even sure why, but she was glad.
“But you’re not on the right side of lawful, either, are you?” Maybe she was hoping.
Her stepfather only held her gaze, a sadness in his eyes she’d never seen before.
Nope. He wasn’t going to suddenly neutralize these two men and rescue her. He really was a part of all this.
“I don’t even want to know why.” And her voice sounded empty in her own ears.
“I’d have been disappointed if you approved.” Her stepfather walked toward her. When he moved to touch her face, she turned away but he grabbed her chin. “Even if we get ice on this, it’s going to be bad.”
“Why bother?” She was tempted to ask if he was going to kill her but she really didn’t want to die, and why tempt fate. She’d learned a long time ago not to ask her stepfather questions if she didn’t want to know the answers. And she was pretty sure she didn’t want to know yet.
He huffed this time. “You are never going to grow out of this pig-headed stubbornness. It’s not a phase. It’s a character trait.”
“I prefer to consider it perseverance. Maybe tenacity.” Talking seemed to be a good idea. Keep everyone talking.
Give David as much time as possible to come find her.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Cruz stood with his back to the wall in the room they used for on-site veterinary needs, Atlas sitting at his side. The old dog was seeing the inside of this room more often than most of their canines did. All things considered, though, Atlas was in good shape and practically trembling to go into action.
So was Cruz, but they needed to know where they were going and what they were getting into first.
“How do you want to handle this?” Forte leaned against the examination table, currently not in use. Might be before all this was over but thankfully, it wasn’t yet. If that ex-SEAL had stopped to take a steadier shot, Atlas might’ve been hit.
Heat coursed through Cruz’s veins, pushing at his already frayed control. Thinking on the possibilities didn’t help his temper. Wherever Lyn was, she probably wasn’t out of reach yet but every minute could be taking her farther away.
“We can’t take much time before we really do notify the local authorities.” Rojas threw in his two cents from his seat on the one stool in the room. “We need to stay clean from a lawful point of view if we want to look at this guy through bars and us on the right side of ’em.”
“We need to know where Lyn is, what kind of head count we’re dealing with at the location, anything useful for safe extraction, and anything additional the shithead knows about Calhoun.” Cruz paused. “In that order. Lyn takes priority.”
They all nodded in agreement.
“Every minute counts for Lyn.” Cruz wasn’t just pointing out the obvious in a kidnapping situation. Every second ticking by wound him up tighter and tighter with the need to go out and do something to help her, to get her back. Atlas was no different, taking in all the actions around him, watching with an air of impatience. Cruz got the impression the big dog was evaluating how every action was taken. Right now, they were moving too slowly.
But they needed to approach with a strategy in mind; otherwise they could do more harm than good to Lyn and to themselves and the people who’d miss them. Like Boom and Sophie.
“Question goes back to you.” Forte faced Cruz.
Cruz thought hard. Lyn was his and Forte would take his lead on this. What he was about to do was for Lyn and she wouldn’t thank him, or forgive him, for becoming a monster to save her from monsters. If he could find a better way, one that would leave their consciences clean—or at least not scar them any more than they already were—it’d be best to try.
“We mess with his head first.” Cruz put some force behind his words, as if sounding confident about it would make it the right choice. Sometimes it did. “He’s not the brightest light bulb out there for sure. Say the right thing and he’ll sing.”
“You sure?” Forte’s gaze had gone cold, flat. “Mind games are the way you want to go?”
Uglier, more direct options hung in the air between them.
“We’ll get the most accurate information out of him this way, not just what he thinks we want to hear.” Truth. Plus there was the question of Cruz’s temper. This course of action gave Cruz the best control over the situation. “We try to soften him up any an
d I might be tempted to go too far.”
His anger simmered right now, coiled and waiting, familiar. The stranger he’d locked away within himself had been coming closer to the surface of his mind through this whole ordeal. Compartmentalization bullshit. The driving need to go find Lyn was all that saved the man they had in custody from being beaten to within an inch of his life, or worse. Cruz had done it before and even if he already hated himself for it back then, he would do it now if it weren’t for Lyn. Everything he was doing and how he was going to do it was because he had her in his life now.
Because without her, there wasn’t a good enough reason to keep trying to be someone other than the stranger he used to be.
“Beckhorn found the man’s service record and sent it over.” Cruz owed Beckhorn big for the favor, too. It’d be worth it. “There’s a few things in there to leverage.”
“That was fast. Beckhorn hasn’t lost his touch.” Rojas snagged the printout off the examination folder. His eyebrows raised after only a few seconds of skimming. “Yeah, this asshole is easy.”
“This isn’t just about Lyn.” Forte crossed his arms. “The shithead tailed Sophie, too. And we have Boom to worry about. Whatever we do to get the info we need, this guy goes away where he can’t hurt any of them anymore. That means we call the police. We can’t delay any longer without opening ourselves up to scrutiny and giving this guy loopholes when he has his day in court. If you think you can do this, do it now while I put in the call. We’ll be on a countdown.”
Last time they’d had to call in the police, it’d taken half an hour or so to respond. Not a lot of time.
Cruz blew out a breath. “It’ll be enough. Any more than that and you two will have to stop me from getting physical anyway.”
To say he had a short fuse was probably a message from Captain Obvious.
Forte straightened and headed for the door leading to the main house. “Let’s get to it then.”
* * *
Cruz strolled into the kennel where they’d tied up their man with Atlas on a short leash at his side. The streaming video from cameras on this side of the run would show a cut-off time coinciding with shots fired. Completely believable to say a stray bullet had taken out the security feed.