A deadly kind of calm fell over Forte as he gave Haydn the order to proceed, then followed with his firearm ready. Adrenaline flowed through him, and long years of training and combat experience kicked in. He extended his senses to catch any hint of danger. It was about more than sight. Scent, sound, vibrations coming from the floor up through the soles of his feet, and more could tell him what he needed to make sure they all survived. Gently, he guided Sophie into the “safe” corner. There was definitely something wrong, and he wouldn’t leave her vulnerable in the entryway.
Sophie’s new cat came out from under the breakfast table. It was fluffed back up to twice its size, walking on stiff legs with its fur standing on end like it was hooked up permanently to a Van de Graaff generator. It stared at Forte, then Haydn, for a second before rushing directly past them to climb up Sophie’s jeans.
Haydn took a few steps forward and froze, his stance rigid and his head up. His weight was balanced forward evenly on both his good leg and the prosthetic. His ears had swiveled forward to catch every sound, and his attention was on the bedroom.
There was someone in the apartment.
Whoever it was remained out of sight. For the moment.
Walking into an ambush situation was never advisable. But Forte needed to determine whether it was one or more, then flush the bastard—or bastards—out.
If it’d been Sophie coming home by herself, they’d have been ready to catch her in the parking lot if she’d backed out of the apartment and run. Or they’d planned to be certain they caught her in here, before she had a chance to get away.
The thought of her coming home alone to this made his gut twist and burn. How dare they violate her home?
Forte considered his options. Sending Haydn in ahead was safer, but Haydn was still learning to use his prosthetic. None of his physical therapy had included any of the standard bite work or attack exercises. Haydn had no way of knowing yet how his lack of a left forepaw was going to change the way he could move in those instances. If they were armed, and Forte assumed they were, they’d shoot Haydn in a moment of lost momentum.
Could he risk his partner’s life that way?
It was a reality of working dogs.
But Forte wouldn’t send a soldier unprepared, and he wouldn’t send in Haydn, either.
“Bewaken.” He indicated Sophie with his left hand, fully extended, and issued the command so softly it was practically subvocal. But Haydn would hear him and guard Sophie while he advanced.
Keeping his firearm up, Forte established his cone of fire and advanced on the bedroom door. He walked heel-toe to keep the barrel level and kept his movement smooth, even, and as quiet as possible. Anyone hiding would strain to assess his position by sound at the least. His approach took him in an arching path to give him as much sight into the room as possible.
Suddenly, gunfire rang out in the silence. One shot.
Forte dove for the nearest cover at the corner of Sophie’s couch. “Sophie, get down! Call nine-one-one!”
A figure dressed in dark clothes darted from one side of Sophie’s room to her window. The man turned and took another shot, forcing Forte back to cover, and then he was out.
Forte almost lunged but checked his forward motion. He risked a glance back to make sure Sophie was okay. She was crouching exactly where he’d left her, and Haydn was still on guard. Then he approached the door at an angle to see as much of the room as possible. There could be a second person waiting in the room.
He entered cautiously and cleared Sophie’s bedroom first, wincing at the way her belongings had been tossed. The floor was covered in her clothes and stuff from her dresser.
By the time he got to the window, there was no sign of her intruder. He’d figured he’d be too late, but it would’ve been potentially deadly if he’d gone straight after the man. Too many times, a fellow soldier or dog had gotten overexcited in the chase and gone into a room after a target before clearing the room. When a second or third hostile proved to be in the room, waiting, the result had been tragic.
And if Forte were taken down, who would protect Sophie?
Speaking of Sophie, he could hear her on the phone, giving her name and address. The police would be on-site soon.
Forte picked his way carefully through Sophie’s bedroom, back to the door. Sophie had shrunken as far as she could into the corner, her face pale and eyes wide. She had her phone clutched in her hand like a lifeline but otherwise looked to be keeping her shit together. He gave her a nod and the tension eased through her shoulders.
It was the best he could do in the moment.
Haydn watched him, intense and ready to respond. Forte left him where he was for the time being and instead looked at the cat.
The thing was curled up on Sophie’s shoulder, sleek and normal looking. No puffed fur.
Wasn’t that interesting?
Cat and dog notwithstanding, Forte took the time to clear the bathroom and the rest of the apartment for nasty surprises before returning to the front door to stand with Sophie. She’d calmed and regained some normal tone in her complexion, standing just inside the door enough so she wasn’t exposed to any additional threats coming up from outside. But her eyes were still wild and her knuckles were showing white as she continued to grip her phone.
“Whoever it was is gone now. The apartment is clear.” He watched her carefully to be sure she heard him.