Breaking Out (Military Romantic Suspense) (SEAL Team Heartbreakers Book 6)

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Breaking Out (Military Romantic Suspense) (SEAL Team Heartbreakers Book 6) Page 20

by Teresa Reasor


  “Not weird, Kathleen. Just cautious,” Kenton said.

  She tried not to tear up, but her eyes stung. “I’ll try to get beyond it, okay?”

  When the Jack and Kenton got to their feet, Kathleen rose to give each one a hug and thank them before they wandered back to their desks.

  “Thanks for doing this, Tyler. It was the right thing to do, and I feel better because of the discussion.”

  “I’m glad. You’re a damn fine architect, Kathleen. I don’t want to lose you from my team. It would be Wiley’s loss, and ours.”

  “Thanks for saying so.”

  He started to mosey back to his part of the pod, but stopped and turned back to face her. “It took a great deal of courage for you to walk back through the doors of this building and return to work after such an experience. Not many people would have been up for it.”

  “The Irish are a pigheaded, stubborn people. My family in particular. I don’t want to quit. Something just won’t let me.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. Take it easy for a little while. The meeting won’t be until five. You have plenty of time to prepare for it.”

  She nodded. What had happened to the bold woman who’d traveled across the country to live in a new city and launch a new career?

  She’d gone into hiding. She depended on Cal and Zach to give her support, but Cal was gone, and Zach had his own life to live, and would soon be overseas somewhere fighting the good fight.

  He and Cal had been through worse things and functioned. She could do this.

  *

  Piper invested every ounce of her attention on the dog on the operating table. Her veterinary training had taught her to focus on the problem before her and block out everything else. And she’d been able to do it thus far, despite the constant feelings of dread plaguing her.

  The dog’s name came to her after a momentary lapse. “You’re going to be just fine, Rowdy,” she spoke out loud, even though the animal was unconscious. She’d seen the Scottish terrier for his annual shots just recently, and he’d been Mr. Personality Plus, with a great deal of energy and a sweet disposition.

  Piper used the clamp to grip the needle and carefully guided the sutures through the inside of the Scottish terrier’s eyelid and sealed the eye shut. A sense of regret struck her, but there was nothing she could do. The injury to the eyeball was catastrophic, and she couldn’t save it.

  After performing surgery for two years, there was little that made her queasy, but this procedure had given her more than a few moments of queasiness. She left a small opening at the inner corner of the eye to allow it to drain, and ran her fingertips carefully over the field to make sure the fluid could escape. Pinkish red fluid seeped from the opening, and she blotted it away with a square of sterile gauze.

  “Poor fellow,” Kathy, her assistant murmured. “I remember him being in for a recent visit. He was a real sweetie. I hope he’ll adjust to this okay.”

  “Animals seem to adapt more easily to situations like this than humans. It will take some time, but he’s young and healthy. He should do fine.” Dropping the used instruments into a basin, she reached for her stethoscope and listened to the terrier’s heartbeat and respiration.

  “The owner was freaked out. I mean to walk out and see a stick poking out of your dog’s eye.” Sandy shuddered.

  “Hits you right in the pit of the stomach to imagine it. His owner was lucky to find him right away. He could have done more damage trying to get it out.” She clipped the end of the last suture and dropped the curved needle and scissors she’d been using in a basin to be washed and sterilized later. She tugged down her mask and rotated her shoulders.

  Fifteen minutes later Rowdy was already breathing on his own and she removed the tube. “I’ll go call the owner and let her know how he’s doing, and I’ll need you to monitor him closely for the next couple of hours, just in case.”

  Kathy nodded. “Will do.”

  Piper removed her mask and gloves and placed them in a biohazard container. The gown went into the laundry bin.

  “You’re very good at what you do, Dr. Bertinelli. And you do it with compassion. I’ve worked with several vets in the past who were only in it for the money. I can tell you’re not.”

  “Thanks, Kathy. And no, I’m not in it for the money.” She smiled. “Not entirely. I have to have a little to pay my rent and eat. But the reason I became a vet was because I love animals. They’re the only creatures on the earth who aren’t self-centered, and who are capable of unconditional love. God put them here under our dominion to care for and respect. So many people don’t understand or believe that, otherwise we wouldn’t have so many abused and neglected pets come in to be treated or rescued from cruel, thoughtless owners.”

  She looked away. “I used to volunteer at some of the shelters. I hated to see them put healthy animals down because they couldn’t find them a home, or they didn’t have room for them, or because they didn’t have the veterinary services or the money for medications to treat the sick ones.

  “I dream about being able to open a free clinic the shelters could turn to for medical services, so none of the animals would have to be put down. But it would require constant funding, and the shelters would need more, too. And the likelihood of that is, I won’t say impossible, but it would be close.”

  “I understand.”

  She knew the woman truly did understand, because she’d worked with her in the surgery since they first opened. She was an excellent vet tech, an expert anesthesiologist, and conscientious and caring with the animals they treated. “Call me if you need me.”

  “I will.”

  Piper peeled the paper booties off her feet, dropped them in the waste bin, and left the surgery. She checked on the other surgical patients, then spent some time in her office updating the charts of the three dogs she’d operated on this morning. After calling each owner and notified them of their progress, she double-checked the notations for medications for each animal, including antibiotics and anti-inflammatory pain medications for the Scottish terrier, and went back into the recovery area to hang each chart on the board there.

  She checked the terrier again and found him groggy, but already waking. The swelling around his eye socket was noticeable but not extreme. It was a miracle the stick hadn’t penetrated farther. She gave him a gentle rub and closed the kennel door.

  She hung her stethoscope around her neck and walked down the hall to the front desk.

  Sherry looked up from printing out a receipt for a client. “I have a note for you, Dr. Bertinelli.” She extended the receipt and a bag of medication to the customer and waited for the man to leave. She picked up an envelope from beside her computer and extended it to Piper. Sherry lowered her voice. “It was mixed in with the mail delivered today, but doesn’t have a stamp or return address.”

  Piper reluctantly reached for the envelope. “Thanks, Sherry. It’s probably just a note from a client.” She turned aside to tear open the envelope and pulled out a piece of paper. In bold, black words it read, Have you told your boyfriend about your past? The message drove the breath from her lungs and turned her stomach inside out.

  She crumpled the note and envelope into a ball and darted into the bathroom off the reception area. Tears blurred her vision while sickness burned its way up her throat.

  He knew she was back. He knew where she was. And he was coming after her again. She realized she was murmuring oh God, oh God, oh God and forced herself to stop. The crumpled note she still gripped made her feel sick every time she looked at it. But she couldn’t throw it away. It was proof he was planning to harass her again.

  She slipped out of the bathroom and stumbled down the hall to her office, closed herself in and locked the door. Every muscle in her body jerked she sank to the floor behind her desk and curled into the corner. She had to think. She had to plan what she could do.

  As soon as the trauma eased, the need to see Zach, to hear his voice, took over. Every moment she’d spent wi
th him the last two days played through her mind. They hadn’t been out of each other’s sight from Saturday afternoon till this morning. They cooked together, walked the beach, showered together, bathed and cared for the dogs, and made love. The way he made love to her that morning played through her mind.

  She gripped the corner of her desk, dragged herself to her feet, and fell into her desk chair. She checked the time. She only had thirty minutes until she could leave. She called the front desk.

  “Sherry, I need you to page Dr. Dorsey and ask him to cover for me for the next half hour. I’m not feeling very well.”

  “I saw you dodge into the restroom up here. Are you okay? Do you need a ride home? Tony’s here and can drive you.”

  “No, I’ll be okay. I just need to go home and lie down.”

  “I’ll buzz Dr. Dorsey right now.”

  Two minutes later, Sherry buzzed her back on her phone. “He says he’ll check in on your surgical patients and for you to go on home.”

  “Thank you. I’ll let you know about my evening shift in plenty of time.”

  “Okay, Dr. Bertinelli. Feel better.”

  Piper thanked her, opened her desk drawer, and got her purse. She crammed the note into her bag and got her keys.

  She scanned the parking lot from the corner of the building. Was he here watching for her? The cars in the lot all looked empty. She hurried to her car and got in.

  She had to tell Zach.

  Her hands felt slick with sweat on the steering wheel as she wove through noon traffic toward his apartment, but she had calmed somewhat by the time she pulled into his driveway.

  She caught the sound of Zach’s laughter, and instead of going to the front door she walked around to the back patio. The smell of grilled meat drifted to her on the ocean breeze. Using a long pair of tongs Zach flipped chicken breasts cooking on the grill. Gracie had a squeak toy in her mouth, Trouble’s favorite. She rolled on her back while squeezing the toy, making it chatter like a chipmunk.

  Zach looked up from the grill and smiled. “Hey, you’re a little early.” He shut the top of the grill and limped toward her. Seeing her expression, he slowed. “What is it?”

  She withdrew the crumpled envelope and paper from her bag and handed it to him. “This was left with Sherry, our receptionist, today. I saw him on Saturday at the grocery store, but…I was praying he hadn’t seen me. Praying he’d leave me alone.”

  He smoothed the paper and read the words. His dark auburn brows locked in a V.

  The dogs leaped to their feet, and Trouble let out a deep base bark.

  Two men appeared from the driveway, both dressed in suits.

  Piper caught her breath when recognition struck like a hammer blow.

  No! The one-word denial caught in her throat even as fear wreaked havoc with every nerve and cell. She had hoped never to see him again in this lifetime. He sauntered across the yard to the concrete patio with the same confident swagger she remembered. Every muscle in her body locked and there was a metallic taste in her mouth. She realized she’d bitten the inside of her cheek.

  Chapter 23

  ‡

  Zach looked over his shoulder. He didn’t recognize either man. Seeing the telltale bulge of a sidearm at the first man’s waist Zach, took a protective step between Piper and the two strangers.

  “Ensign O’Connor?” the first man asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m Detective Marcus Sherman.” He flashed his badge. “And this is Detective Sam Lester. We’ve been calling. We wanted to go over the report you filed with the patrol officers the other day.”

  “I left my cell phone in the house.” Zach glanced in Piper’s direction, and then did a double-take. He’d once seen the face of a guy who’d stepped on an IED seconds before it had gone off. The man’s expression of abject fear and shock had stuck in his mind for months. Every time he closed his eyes it had come back to him. The similarity to expression on Piper’s face set off a flood of adrenaline, and every protective instinct raged to life in him.

  “Hello, Dr. Bertinelli,” Detective Sherman said with a nod.

  She nodded, but her eyes were riveted on the man standing next to him.

  Zach slipped an arm around Piper’s waist and drew her against his body. She was stiff and her eyes focused, unblinking and dark. “Excuse us for a moment.” He guided her away from the men and turned to block her view of the Detective Lester. “What is it, Piper?”

  It was a moment before she could speak. “He’s the man who left the note.” Her voice wobbled. “The robbery at the restaurant… The man who killed my father was someone the man I was dating owed money to. He was there to shoot me because he thought I had the money. Detective Lester accused me of being responsible, hounded me for months….”. She shook her head. “He nearly destroyed me…my family.” Her eyes pleaded with him as she met his gaze. “I had to file a harassment suit to get him to leave me alone.”

  He’d been curious enough to go online and look up the shooting, but none of this was in the newspaper account. Shock ricocheted through him and brought his protective instincts to bear. He’d never seen anyone so pale who was still standing. He wanted to comfort her, take her into the apartment and urge her to lie down, but the detectives were waiting and watching. “I think the dogs need to go in. Can you take them in for me? I’ll get rid of these guys, and then we’ll talk.”

  It took a moment for her to respond. She nodded. She gripped Trouble’s collar, urged him into the apartment. “Come, Gracie.”

  Zach paused a moment to gain control of the emotions crashing through him. This was what she was going to tell him. But there was more, he was certain of it. He had only known Piper a few days, but her self-description earlier in the week—“neurotic, worrywart, am I doing the right thing” said it all. She could no more bring harm to her family or anyone else than she would him. They were the words of a woman profoundly fearful of doing the wrong thing.

  And this detective had something to do with her constant vigilance, and possibly her half-fearful, self-contained attitude.

  He turned back to the two detectives to find Gracie standing at attention, her gaze focused on the two men, her nose working. She had taken up a defensive position between the officers and him.

  “Se désister, Gracie.” He gave the order for her to stand down. “Don’t move, guys. She knows you’re armed.” He opened the sliding glass door, led her in, and closed the door. The Malinois stood at attention on three legs, her eyes bright and her attention still directed at the two detectives.

  He turned back to the two men.

  “Isn’t it dangerous for you to have a dog like that?” Lester, the heavier of the two, mopped his round face and tucked the handkerchief into his pocket. He stood five nine or ten, but appeared shorter because of his short neck and barrel chest. The sleeves of his jacket strained against the muscles beneath, and there was an aggressive cast to his expression.

  Detective Sherman was taller and leaner, but in as good shape as Lester, though he appeared to be at least a decade older. His hair was iron gray, though his brows were dark. He projected calm and reason, where Lester had a pugnacious quality. They’d probably be the perfect duo to do the good cop, bad cop thing.

  “Not if you’re not armed or packing explosives. She’s trained to attack on command. She was on alert and waiting for my word.” Zach glanced at the grill. “Take a seat.” He nodded toward the table. “Just give me a moment to take up the chicken I have on the grill.”

  He tucked the note Piper had handed him under the plate of meat, then covered the plate with a strip of paper towels and turned off the grill.

  “What can I do for you, Detectives?”

  Sherman spoke first. “I want to follow up on your earlier statement and see if you remember anything else.”

  “I pretty much covered everything that happened from the time I left the hospital emergency room to when I arrived at the vet’s office with Gracie. Gracie’s blood would have
still been on the street where everything took place. I told the officers where to look.”

  “Do you have experience, caring for a dog like that?” Lester asked.

  “I have experience with dogs and with military working dogs, since we work with both the handlers and the dogs during missions. And Master Chief Flynn, her owner, has confidence I can handle her until he gets out of the hospital. She very well trained.”

  “Did Dr. Bertinelli do her surgery?” Lester asked.

  “Yes, she did. Any other vet would have probably amputated the leg, but she went the extra mile, and thus far Gracie’s doing well. We’re both keeping a close eye on her.”

  “How long have you and she been dating?” he asked.

  Detective Sherman frowned and shot a look in his partner’s direction.

  Zach braced his elbows on the top of the table. “My personal life has no bearing on Master Chief Flynn’s case or the robberies, Detective.”

  Sherman cut in hastily. “Will you go over everything that happened one more time for us?”

  Zach started with the trip to the emergency room, what time he left the hospital, and how he’d come to miss the man running but hit Gracie. He described her injury, his battlefield care of her injury, and the rush to the vet.

  “Were you aware at the time that the vet’s office had been broken into the same morning?” Sherman asked.

  “No. And Piper didn’t say anything about it until the next day, when we went to visit Master Chief Flynn.”

  Lester scowled. “How was it you put the attack and the burglaries together, Ensign?”

  “Piper mentioned the guys who’d broken in stole meds, but also took other supplies and accessed their computer files. I saw an article in the paper about local veterinary offices being burglarized and asked the master chief what vet normally cared for Gracie. It was one of those mentioned in the article. It didn’t take any major leaps in logic to figure out that the master chief’s attack might be connected to the vet robberies. They could have accessed his address at his vet’s office, learned he had a military-trained Malinois, and decided they could get big bucks by selling her. They’re looking for large breeds. Maybe building a dog-fighting ring, running puppy mills, selling them to laboratories, or all three.”

 

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