A second shot went off as Purdy screamed. Oleg had made his bite. Kye didn’t have to worry about him letting go. The Czech wolfdog was trained to hold until further notice. By the sounds of savage snarling, he was good for the duration.
“Fuck this.” By the sounds of it, the man who hadn’t made it onto the road began to climb back down. But he must have lost his footing. Kye heard a cry and then the man was cursing and thrashing as he backslid down the slope.
Kye jerked open the truck door and turned on the brights and then laid on the horn. Now the FBI would be a good idea. Along with whatever was arriving as a caravan below with sirens and lights going.
*
Kye leaned against the intruder’s truck, the area around it lit up like a movie stage set with law enforcement lighting, as he waited his turn to be looked after. Local, state, and federal agencies were now all involved. Purdy’s partner had been picked up by the sheriff’s deputies and taken into custody. But FBI agent Jackson was giving the sheriff an earful about jurisdiction.
Purdy was dead. Oleg had caught him high on the shoulder at the neck, fangs sinking in and tearing the jugular. Kye knew that hadn’t been intentional but the canine was trying to take down a danger to someone he thought he should protect. Only later had he learned Yard had been on the road several yards behind the dog.
His heart knocked against his ribs as he realized she might have been shot instead.
He glanced at her. Her face pale and tight in the glare of the lights as she hugged herself and hovered over the EMTs working on Gunnar. It seems his abductors had drugged him with an injection to make him unconscious so that carrying him would be simpler. But he’d lost additional blood in the rough treatment and the EMTs were talking in low tones about the wet sounds on one side of his chest. A possible broken rib puncturing a lung.
He wanted to go and put his arms around Yardley and tell her everything was going to be okay. The worst was over. It would be better in the morning, and better still the day after. But something held him back. And it was more than the way she gazed at Gunnar, bending down to grasp his hand when an EMT moved aside.
He had yet to tell her that he was pretty sure not all the blood on Purdy was his own. The man had fired two shots at close range. The likelihood that Oleg had taken one of them was high. That could explain why the K-9 had run away as soon as Yard had called him off. Instead of returning to her side as he’d been taught, he’d run back into the dark from which he’d come like a feral creature.
Kye was only waiting for a chance to slip away and look for him.
That chance seemed to arrive when the first of three ambulances appeared on the utility road. One for Purdy’s body. One for the FBI agent who, unbeknownst to them, had been monitoring the house for Agent Jackson. He’d been shot attempting to stop Purdy’s partner from breaking into Yard’s house. He’d lost a lot of blood but he’d been able to call for help.
The first wagon was for Gunnar, who would be transported to a nearby hospital. However, Agent Jackson had already made it clear that Gunnar was under his protection as a federal witness and he would be transported to D.C. as soon as he was stable enough.
As they loaded Gunnar into the ambulance, Yardley suddenly seemed to remember Kye was alive. She came toward him slowly, looking like a kid in his coat. It swallowed her figure and hung over her fingertips. She looked so young and vulnerable. He wanted to wrap her up in his arms and carry her away to where it was warm and quiet and very safe.
But he wouldn’t. She was going with Gunnar.
She walked right up to him, so close he began to straighten from his slouch, and then she was plowing into him, her face going against his neck and burrowing there.
His arms came up about her. His SAR parka kept him from feeling any part of the woman beneath. It was enough she was leaning fully into him, her chill cheek on his even colder chest. Someone had tossed him a blanket that he’d put around his shoulders. But from the moment Yardley touched him, he burst into a blazing inferno inside.
Those around them seemed to understand it was a moment more private than most, and discreetly turned their backs and went on with their work.
Finally she lifted her head, but only so that her lips were turned up to his ear. “I thought, when I heard the shots, that you were dead. And David…” She seemed to run out of breath.
“I know.” He pressed her tighter to his body. “Didn’t I promise you I’d take care of you? And him.”
“But I didn’t want you to die doing it.” She lifted a hand and pounded her fist against his chest. “You idiot! You left me.” She was so weak the pounding was more like pats.
He lifted her chin and smiled at her. “You can beat me up later. I promise. I won’t hit back.” Beyond her shoulder he saw the EMT signal that the wagon was ready to roll. “You need to go with David. I’ll catch up when I can.”