Primal Force (K-9 Rescue #3)

Sam leaped out of the car, head low. “Sam, heel.” Her gaze still on Becker, she moved to Law and bounced up on his chest to check him out.

Law looked down. “Good girl. Down. Heel. Now I’m going to attach her leash, Becker. Don’t get squirrelly on me while I reach in my pocket.”

“Use one hand. And move slowly so I can see everything.” Becker watched Law attach Sam’s leash. “Now move away the hell from the cruiser. Three easy side steps. That’s right. Take off your rig. Use only your left hand. No, fuck. You’re left-handed, aren’t you? Right hand. That’s right. Now extend the belt out the full length of your arm. Drop it and take three steps forward. Two more. Nice and easy.”

Becker moved in behind Law, careful to maintain his distance. “Now head for the house. I’m only going to warn you once. Make a move of any kind and I’ll shoot you and your dog.”

The rain was already changing to ice. Law could feel it freezing on his face and on the ground. It caused his prosthetic foot to slide ever so slightly on the gravel as he resumed the walk toward his cabin. He had to concentrate not to slip. Becker wouldn’t get far if this kept up. Winter in the Ozarks could be as dangerous and sudden as anywhere in the Lower Forty-Eight. Mountain roads and ice did not mix well. Add in the winds that whipped through the narrow hollows at fifty-plus miles an hour and the roads became deadly.

They reached the porch, Law six feet ahead. He thought about pushing through the door and taking his chances that he’d make it to the hearth and the loaded pistol he kept in the stack of firewood before Becker got to him. Lousy odds.

Once inside, Becker lowered his gun. But he didn’t holster it. “Now, this is better. Been freezing my nuts off waiting for you.”

Law turned around slowly. “What’s this about?”

“I need to get out of Arkansas.”

“I can’t help you.”

“Oh, I think you can. And you will want to when you hear what I’ve got to say. Now get down on your knees.”

“I can’t do that. Prosthesis.”

“I saw that video of you chasing the robber. You two were rolling around on the ground like a couple of puppies. You’ll find a way.” He raised his weapon. “Now. If you touch the knife strapped to your leg I will shoot you.”

“In the back? That’s a damn cowardly thing to do.”

“I’ll shoot your dog.”

Law stiffened. Not Sam’s fault she didn’t have a killer instinct. “Let me sit in a chair.”

“Okay. But slow. I swear, one move and I’ll plug that curly bag of bones and tag you, too.”

Law made his way to the kitchen table, hands still behind his head. He could judge by Becker’s footsteps that he was staying far enough away to have a clear shot if he moved to attack. But Becker sounded exhausted. He’d probably spent hours in the cold and dark. That would make him distractible, but also unpredictable. He wasn’t about to underestimate a longtime trooper like Becker.

When Law had seated himself, Becker moved in behind him and placed the barrel of his gun against the nape of his neck. “I’m just going to cuff you so we can talk without a problem. I’m trying to do the right thing here.” He cuffed Law, hands behind his back, with flex cuffs.

When he was done, he moved back in front of Law and said, “I’ve had nothing to do with the drug trade. I’m a cop. Traffickers are the scum of the earth. Those other officers they arrested this morning have no honor.”

“It’s me you’re talking to, Becker. I know you’re on the take with Tice. I know someone sent you to the Springdale office to spy on me. And I know you broke in here looking for something. Was it evidence I was collecting on Tice? You were helping him cover up drug dealings.”

“No. It wasn’t like that. I had information the Tices were willing to pay me to keep quiet about. Nothing to do with drugs but good enough to ruin a political career.” Becker grinned, looking a little more relaxed. “That’s what I want to talk to you about. It’ll cost you your truck, some cash, and a twenty-four-hour head start to get my information. Then I’ll give you enough to ruin Tice.”

“No.”

Becker smirked. “You think you’re too good to do a deal?”

“What deal? I let you get away and you promise to phone me from Brazil and tell me about the Tices? A six-year-old could see the problem with that bargain.”

Becker nodded. “What if I could guarantee that Luke Tice will end up in jail?”

“The feds are taking care of that as we speak.”

Becker shook his head. “That’ll never stick on Luke. His dad, maybe. But he can buy enough lawyers to keep this mess tied up in court for the next ten years. Luke is slick as shit. He’ll rally sympathy. Might even win the election because his poor daddy’s been indicted. You’ve seen stranger things happen.”

Law didn’t argue. “Why do you care?”

“I hate to see a bad man get away.”