Yardley looked up with a smile. “No more threats against him?”
Taggart frowned, his face resembling a bulldog’s. “I’d like to see someone say he’s vicious after looking at those photos of what he suffered.”
Yardley thought the same thing. But people were strange. The fact that Oleg’s attack had resulted in a death shocked everyone, including her. But the circumstances had been extreme. He was operating in near-blackout conditions, and he taken a bullet before his takedown bite. It was pure bad luck that his teeth had severed an artery. He hadn’t been trained to kill. But he was doing his job of providing protection.
Still, all dog bites had to be reported. It had taken lots of testimony by friends and experts to convince a judge that Oleg wasn’t dangerous in ordinary circumstances. That he didn’t really know what he’d done, other than his job to protect his handler by biting the bad guy. Yardley had had to sign papers promising that Oleg would never work as a law enforcement K-9 before the judge would agree to consider allowing him to leave the shelter where he’d been placed while awaiting judgment.
“Too bad he can’t now do his job. He’s more than capable.”
“Thanks to you.” Yardley stood up and, not allowing herself to censor her actions, threw her arms about the big man and hugged him tight. “Thank you.”
He turned bright red and grinned like a schoolboy. “My pleasure, boss.”
It didn’t matter that he couldn’t work K-9 law enforcement. He wasn’t going to be a ghost op K-9 private security dog, either.
Yardley had seen to that. She had told his owners that Oleg was no longer fit for the service they had in mind. It wasn’t a lie. She hadn’t liked what they had in mind. They’d been much too eager to hear the details of Oleg’s deadly takedown. Wanted to know if a dog could train for that particular bite. She wanted nothing to do with them. In fact, she mentioned that if the news got leaked they were training murder dogs, they’d be out of business. Then she bought him from his handlers, paying top price for a dog that would never work a day in the career he’d been trained for. But there were other jobs he’d be equally good at.
Yardley reached for a tennis ball and held it up before Oleg. Then he noticed the pair of four-month-olds fighting to claim both balls. He glanced back at Yardley. And then at the pair. She knew what he wanted. She unleashed him.
He came in fast on the pair of puppies, hitting them low and knocking their legs out from under them. They went tumbling across the grass like a pair of bowling pins after an Oleg ball strike. They rolled and were up instantly, barking and chasing their tormentor. Oleg easily outran them, only to circle back and grab one of the tennis balls. The other ball forgotten, they chased him until their tongues hung like bright-pink flags from their open jaws, and they collapsed in the grass. Only then did she lob the third ball their way. Oleg, of course, beat the youngsters to the new ball, claiming it. They, in turn, went to find the abandoned balls. After a moment, three happy dogs lay in the grass chomping on their favorite toys.
Two hours later she was sitting behind the wheel of her Jeep headed for D.C. Georgiana had asked her, as a favor, to attend some sort of reception with her since Brad was, once more, out of town. Yardley had a feeling there was more to it than that but she wasn’t in a position to pry since she’d been closed up tighter than a clam in ice water about her love life.
Or rather lack of it.
Frowning, she pushed the button on her dash display and made a call.
“Agent Jackson speaking.”
“Hello. Yardley Summers here.”
“Ms. Summers.” Jackson’s voice had taken on a warm tone she had never heard before. “I’ve been expecting your call.”
Yardley glanced at the speaker. “Why?”
“Always to the point. I’ve been in touch with a former colleague. He left a message for you, in case you called.”
Her stomach jumped. She and David hadn’t been in touch since the week she’d spent by his side under guard in the hospital in D.C. “What does it say?”
“Two words. Bonnie Raitt.”
Yardley smiled. “Got it.”
“Any return message?”
“No.”
“In that case, I’ve been advised to tell you he’s taking a sea voyage. Signed up for a cruise. Medical ship. Contained environment. Very secure. Limited access. Pretty good job for a doc on a mission. I’m told fresh sea air can do wonders for the soul.”
“I’ve heard that, too. Thank you.”
“So this is good-bye, Ms. Summers. Try to have a less eventful life. At least until after I retire. My wife would appreciate it, too.”