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He could shoot the tire, but even with the silencer, at this range it was likely the shot would be heard. Worse, he knew he couldn’t take the shot and run fast enough to evade the guards who would surely pursue him.
But he had to do something. They wouldn’t get a second chance. After another look down the road and no sign of the guard, Dale made his decision. He waited for the next swell of cheering and then clipped the guard’s thigh with the first shot and flattened the right rear tire with the next one.
He hoped it was enough to get those people out of the back seat. Scrambling deeper into the trees, he paused to watch the reactions before he headed back to Heather’s position.
Chapter 12
Heather rolled to her back as the last vehicle left the scene. The camera still gripped in her hands, she couldn’t stop the tremors shaking her body. Adrenaline was a powerful substance. She tried to think of other things, happy things, but nothing banished the flickering images of all those faces excited by the barbaric fights.
She’d known it would be horrible. It couldn’t possibly have been otherwise. While she’d zoomed in on those human faces, the sounds from the dogs had told the story of the action in the fight ring. All the growling, crying, and shrieks of pain were terrible, but the abrupt, final silences tore at her heart.
Dale had been right to deny her request for a gun tonight. She would’ve happily put a bullet in every one of those terrible people.
Five main fights. Well, four and three quarters really. The last fight had been broken up by some drama near the sedan. Drama no doubt created by Dale.
Two men had emerged from the back of the car just long enough to switch to another vehicle. She’d taken pictures, but couldn’t be sure if she had what they needed for the case. She was only sure neither man had been Lester.
That sour awareness had been momentarily pre-empted by survival while the spectators fled and the fight crew rushed around, dismantling everything.
She had no idea how much time had passed until she was alone again. Hearing the snap of a twig, she went on full alert, braced to defend herself and the evidence on her camera.
“Stand down.”
Dale. Thank God. She shifted and leaves crunched and rustled beneath her. The sound was too loud in her ears and she cringed, waiting for Dale’s scolding, or worse, the discovery by Lester’s men.
“Knowing where they fight is the least of it,” he said, joining her in their hiding place. “We’re alone. Come here.”
She rolled toward him, needing the touchstone of his warm body and strong embrace. His arms banded around her, drawing her into the solid wall of his chest. The tremors grew worse. “Sorry.” After all her posturing about being a capable adult, the sudden weakness embarrassed her.
“Don’t be,” he murmured at her ear. “You were amazing.”
She didn’t feel amazing. In fact, she hadn’t felt this broken since her father’s death. “I’ll be okay in a minute.” Maybe. “It was a waste,” she said through chattering teeth. “I don’t think Lester was here.”
“Not a waste. We’re one step closer. We can follow the money through the others we identify from your pictures.”
His voice surrounded her, gentle and soothing. She wanted to believe him, but she’d seen the stacks of cash as people placed bets and claimed winnings. “Can’t track cash.” Squeezing her eyes shut didn’t help. The images were worse behind her eyelids. “I feel dirty.”
“That’s normal. It’ll fade.”
Heather squirmed away from him before she embarrassed herself by burrowing closer. “Soon?” She scrubbed at her face. “Please tell me it fades soon.”
He nodded. “Just as soon as you start putting the evidence to work.”
“All right.” She jumped to her feet. A second wind, born of desperation, surged through her. “Let’s go do that. Now.” She dusted bits of damp leaves and twigs from her pants.
She heard him working to stand with his stiff leg and immediately discarded the notion of offering assistance. He wouldn’t appreciate it and she wasn’t about to bruise his pride. Not after his unexpected kindness when she’d been about to lose it. “Will they suspect us?”
“Probably,” he replied. “The list of people who know about Lester’s dogfights is ridiculously short. The list of people who want to stop him is even shorter.”
“Why is that?” The lack of official support bothered her and he had yet to explain it. “Why doesn’t anyone else give a damn?”
“Because it’s lucrative,” he replied, taking a hesitant step in the direction of their car.
“Don’t dodge the question, Special Agent Nichols.”
“I didn’t.” He motioned for her to walk with him. “We need to start working on those photos.”
“Dodging,” she repeated, refusing to move. He glared at her, but that wasn’t new. “I’m not stupid.”
