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Authors: Kallie Lane

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BOOK: Deadly Abandon
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He recognized her from the photo in the hallway. She was the blond; the redhead and brunette had book-ended her in the snapshot.

Sully frowned. “The water is filthy, hasn’t been shocked with chemicals for days. She wouldn’t go in there without a fight.”

“I know, and it all slides downhill from there,” his detective grumbled. “The first responders were a couple of patrol yahoos who decided this was an accidental drowning. To make matters worse, they invited their buddies from the precinct over to view the scene and confirm their “accident” theory—never called it in downtown. We would never have known about it, except Sergeant Millette was in the area and had his scanner turned on. Your first day off in over a month and the shit hits the fan.”

“Sounds like the MBPD didn’t want Homicide taking the lead on their home turf.” Sully rolled his shoulders to ease the kinks out of his neck. “The first bozos on the scene will be on bike patrol by the time I’m—” A barrage of snarls and barks erupted from the house. “What the hell?”

“Uh, I was just getting to that. It’s the victim’s dog. He passed out for a while but I guess he’s back in fighting form again. We found him locked in the laundry room and had to leave him there. The mutt is insane, Loot.” Clemente hauled out his weapon and checked the load, seemed nervous as hell. “We’re waiting on Animal Control to come and put him down.”

“No way. Call them off, Sal.” Sully retraced his steps to the kitchen and the adjacent laundry room. Easing the door open, he moved inside. The small space contained a washer, dryer, and a shelf for cleaning supplies.

A massive Rottweiler crouched in a far corner. The dog rose on its haunches, crawling toward him with gums and jowls dripping blood…his own. Jagged slivers of wood jutted from his muzzle and between his teeth. With his front paws also impaled with splinters, the animal couldn’t stand.

Judging by the gouges in the hardwood floor and at the base of the door, the dog had tried to break out of the room for several hours, if not days.

The Rottweiler snarled, struggling to close the distance between them. He could imagine how the animal felt being locked up without food or water and injuring himself. Not to mention the fact his human was dead. He crouched in what he hoped was a non-threatening stance. “It’s okay, boy. We’re here to help you.”

Like that piece of news made a difference. The dog kept on coming, growling deep, its flews curled back to display a lethal set of choppers. Catching Sully off guard with a powerful lunge, the Rottie attacked. It clamped down on his left forearm and released it with an ear-splitting howl.

“Son of a…!” Sully flew back against the doorframe while the dog retreated to the corner, clawing at its face and whining like a banshee. “Serves you right. I’m guessing you drove splinters through the roof of your mouth with that stunt. Snagged me with a couple of them too, along with your teeth. Hurts like a bitch.”

“Out of my way, Loot.” Clemente drew his weapon and inched in front of him. “I’ll put the beast out of its misery pretty damn quick.”

“Back off, Sal.” Sully dug in his back pocket and pulled out a bandanna, wrapped and knotted it over his wound. The coppery tang of blood filled his nostrils. “I need him alive.”

“Lieutenant—”

“I mean it. Besides, it’s only a scratch.”

“What? You have a death wish or something?” Clemente blew out a breath and shoved his gun back in its holster. “Fine, it’s your call. Got any ideas on how we’ll get the mutt to play nice with us?”

“Just one. The veterinarian’s phone number is on his tags. I’ll read it to you…if dog breath here lets me get close enough to see the number. You can make the call and get someone over here to tranquilize him so we can examine him for trace evidence.”

Sully eyed the Rottie who eyed him back, liquid brown eyes sharp with intelligence. Would they go another round before he got a take on the vet’s contact information? He advanced slowly.

“You got it, big guy, I’m heading your way. I need to see those dog tags of yours.” The dog watched and waited, whining as if to say “enough was enough.” “I feel the same way, so let’s just get along. Deal?”

Sully reached him, praised him, and massaged his neck while he memorized the phone number.

****

Breeana McGill cursed herself for not changing out of her workout gear before racing to the address dispatch gave her answering service. Only emergency situations warranted a police call. It had to be bad. She could handle it better, keep her feelings in check, if she could hide behind professional detachment which wasn’t going to happen in this outfit.

Luckily, she kept a medical bag stocked in the car. No, the situation had nothing to do with luck. More like a full-blown nightmare. She’d recognized the address—
Rainey’s
address—the implications of why she’d been called to tranquilize Bruiser turning her blood to ice.

Her stomach dry-heaved. Sweat broke out and chilled her skin. She knew something horrible had happened without being told. Something she couldn’t face again. Not now. Not ever.

Please, let it be a cruel joke. Not a repeat of Miranda.

Police cars lined the curb in front of the house. Breeana pulled into a bordering alley, grabbed her medical bag, hauled herself out of the SUV, and slipped through the side door of the garage with her key. Stopping in the mudroom to calm herself, she heard voices coming from the front of the house. The sounds of a vacuum scraping floors and bumping into walls filled her with dread. She focused on moving down the short hallway to the kitchen, blocking everything else out.

Don’t think about what’s happening here. Focus on what I can do. For Bruiser.

She rounded the corner and smacked into two-hundred-plus pounds of raw power. He was a tall man—maybe six three or four—wide-shouldered, narrow-hipped, easy on the eyes and impossible to ignore. His frame lean and hard, he wore thigh-gloving jeans and a T-shirt tattooed across a rock-solid chest.

A black bandanna wrapped around an arm.
Fashion statement or injury?
Before she had time to decide, he snaked a hand out to restrain her.

“Stand still,” he said, when she struggled in his grasp. Voice deep, the rich baritone rumbled through the room with quiet authority. “Who are you? How did you get in here?”

His grip eased a fraction. She drew in a breath as the heat of his strong fingers loosened around her bicep. Then she shifted back a few paces to look him in the eye. He was a man used to being obeyed. Squaring her shoulders and gritting her teeth, she flipped him a
get real
glower. She also ordered her legs to stop shaking.

“I’m Dr. Breeana McGill, the veterinarian. I was called here for a police emergency, to treat an injured dog.”

His gaze missed nothing as it raked her over, apparently trying to decide if she was legit. She knew how she must look in her frou-frou gym gear, wanted to sink through the floor, and disappear from view.

A birthday gift from her son, she hadn’t had the heart not to wear it for her workouts, not after he’d tried so hard to pick out the outfit. So what if it was a little too girly-girl for her taste? Cody had made the effort, and she didn’t appreciate the cop’s reaction.

If it wasn’t for Bruiser and the gnawing, sick feeling about Rainey in the pit of her stomach, she would slap the smirk off his face right now and run hell-bent for freedom.

“You’re the vet? Really?” He cocked an eyebrow, pressing his lips together as if stifling a laugh. “Get some booties on your feet before you destroy more evidence.”

“What? I don’t care about you and your booties. I have a sick animal to deal with. Step aside.”

A full-blown smile edged his lips as he grabbed a pair of blue shoe coverings from a box on the kitchen table and waited for her to slip them over her Nikes. Only then did he reach behind her and touch the handle on the laundry room door.

“Cookie, this I gotta see.”

That stopped her in her tracks. Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment, she forgot the terror churning her insides about Rainey. “Cookie? Do I look like some fluffy confection to you, as in all sugar and spice with nothing between my ears?”

He leaned toward her, his minty breath closing the distance. “You really need to ask me that question? With the glitter stripes on your shorts and the matching, miniscule halter top you’re wearing? Workout fashionistas have nothing on you, waltzing in here all sweated up and smelling like coconut-lime spritzer.”

The corners of his mouth curved after giving her what could only be termed as a full body scan. “Now, let’s be real clear about this. The dog isn’t a Pekinese named Cutsie-Poo with silk ribbons in its hair. He’s a bone-crushing brute in a great deal of pain. So, if you’re not up to the task, tell me now. I’ll call in someone else and you can be on your pop-star way.”

Arrogant ass.
She wanted to throttle him, but thought better of it. She needed to focus on what was important. On Bruiser. “I know the dog, and my qualifications have nothing to do with how I’m dressed. Quit wasting time.”

She pushed by him into the room and stared, goose bumps erupting across her skin. Bruiser lay on his side and whimpered. His muzzle and front paws were swollen to twice their normal size, imbedded with jagged splinters and covered in congealed blood. Her heart sank. It was worse than she had imagined. All kinds of questions echoed in her mind.

Shoving those aside for the moment, she knelt to stroke the dog’s massive head, soothing him with the sound of her familiar voice. “Easy, boy. I’m here.”

She turned with some surprise when the cop cleared his throat just behind her. His hands poised in the air on either side of her hips, he looked ready to toss her out of harm’s way the second there was any trouble.

Puh-leeze! Save me from macho men who think I’m the defenseless little woman.

“Pass me my medical kit. I’ll sedate him so I can transport him to the clinic. There’s a gurney in my SUV. I’ll need it and some men to carry him out of the house.”

He shook his head. “No way. The dog is evidence. You will tranquilize him so the criminalists can go over him here for trace. Then Animal Control will take him to their facility and you can leave.”

First the booties and now this. The man liked to have his way. Well, not today, not on her watch.

“I don’t think so.” Breeana jutted her chin out and gave him
the look,
hoping he would retreat a few steps. He didn’t. “Bruiser goes with me now. You can follow and take whatever evidence you need at my clinic. I only care about the welfare of the dog and he needs medical attention.”

“Maybe you didn’t hear me, Doc.” The cop blew out a breath and ran his fingers through sable dark hair, the resulting disarray standing up in short spikes. “Let`s not butt heads over this. Understand, it’s a homicide investigation. I won’t risk losing evidence if you drag the dog out of here. The dog stays. The decision is out of your control.”

Breeana ignored his words. Even so, a morbid chill prickled her nape.
Homicide… Don’t think about the word,
she told herself,
or you’ll only fall apart. Focus on Bruiser. Do what needs to be done.

She grabbed a syringe from her case and mechanically administered an anesthetic before Bruiser became more agitated, counting off the seconds until his tense muscles slowly relaxed beneath her touch. Once he slipped into unconsciousness on a noisy exhale, it was time to make her move. Taking a cleansing breath, she prepared to do battle with the cop barring the doorway.

“Perhaps I forgot to mention I have a Mallard Bay judge on speed dial? Yep, her aging Cocker Spaniel is one of my pampered pooches. Actually, I called her on my way over here this morning and got a court order in the works. Bruiser goes with me.”

She snapped her medical bag closed with finality and rose to her feet. “I’ll need the gurney now.”

He stared down at her and said nothing. His whiskey-colored gaze was unreadable and more than a little frightening. Still, she would move heaven and earth to save Bruiser from neglect and abuse, even if it meant facing off against a cop.

“Oh, don’t look so glum. Think of it as protective custody. I’m the most qualified person for the job and the judge agrees with me. I don’t give a damn what you say about it because it’s already a done deal. Call the judge if you don’t believe me.”

“I intend to. The Rottie doesn’t move from the room until I make the call. I won’t risk the chain of evidence because of your whim, cookie.”

Bruiser was wrapped in a blanket, loaded in a police-issue Tahoe, and headed for the veterinary clinic five minutes after the phone call to Judge Wells. Super cop drove and Breeana followed along behind him in her SUV, an inch off his bumper. The look on his face when he rolled to a stop at the back door of the clinic said it all. He was pissed off.

Well, tough sheep-dip.

Rainey’s cell phone had gone directly to voice mail when she’d called her again. Twice. Not an unusual occurrence, since Rainey hated her cell phone and rarely answered anyway. Still, what were the chances she was safe and unaware cops crawled through her house looking for clues to a crime? Not good.

Breeana shoved the phone in her purse and walked across the parking lot on shaky legs. The tubular steel handle chilled her palm as she swung the door open and entered the clinic. The cop followed behind her with the gurney rolling and then transferred the Rottweiler to the examination table when they reached her surgery.

“Cody?” She called to her son who was usually within hearing distance. “I need help in here.”

“Be there in a sec.” Clearing the doorway at a trot, Cody stopped dead in his tracks and gawked at the animal on the table. His fingers trailed a path along the dog’s sleek shoulder. “Jeez! What happened to Bruiser?”

“I don’t know yet, but I need you to assist me. It’s still early and Laura won’t be in for another hour.”

Breeana’s gaze cut from the clock on the wall to the police officer in the doorway while her son prepared a surgical tray with instruments, antiseptic, and gauze. Panic crawled up her spine. She shoved it back. Sticking her head in the sand obviously didn’t work for her. She had to know the truth. “How did the dog get hurt?”

BOOK: Deadly Abandon
2.36Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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