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Dale released her to examine the guard. He handed the man’s gun to Heather, then mercilessly rolled the man over, ignoring the complaining, to take his wallet. “What a dumbass,” he muttered handing over the wallet too. “He’s carrying valid identification. Even a credit card.”
“Guess no one was expecting us after all,” she said with pride.
Dale gave her a hard look. “You raced over here because…”
“The shelter dogs were chipped the day before the break in. I stole a scanner and I hoped—”
“To connect the crimes,” he finished for her.
She nodded.
The guard swore.
“It’s a new policy,” Heather said with a dark happiness. “No surprise you didn’t know.” she turned back to Dale. “And being new, they will be easy to feel under the skin.”
“Where did these dogs come from?” Dale demanded.
“It’s not my job to know.”
Heather checked over the guard’s gun and pulled back the slide. “Can I shoot him?”
“No.”
“But his wounds aren’t lethal and the dogs…”
Dale shook his head slowly, understanding just how she felt.
“Fine.”
“Go on and check for the microchips. I’ll call for help.”
“I thought—” Dale cut her off with a sharp glare. “All right, I’m checking.”
Heather gave the guard a wide berth as she moved to the remains of the losing dogs. It broke her heart, but she choked back the tears and emotions. Aching for the wasted lives wouldn’t restore the dogs or change anything and she didn’t want to give Lester’s man the satisfaction of seeing how much this upset her.
Since her dad’s death, she’d smiled her way through everything life tossed at her. When she was alone she’d give herself time to process it all. She risked a quick peek at Dale. He kept his gun leveled on the guard while he worked his cell phone.
***
Stalling, wishing he didn’t have to bring anyone else into his problems, Dale watched Heather work through the discarded dogs. She touched each one gently, as if it were still alive. Her compassion moved him, touching his soul in places he thought were long dead. He felt terrible on her behalf. Dog fights were horrible and, this being his first, the shock lingered.
She looked so young and out of place as she used her fingers to search for newly inserted microchip tags.
His gaze dropped to the wounded guard, who was looking far too closely at Heather’s back side. “I can fix your vision problem,” Dale said, the threat clear.
The guard ignored him.
Dale stepped forward and pressed the silencer of his pistol into the man’s temple. “Give me one more reason.”
“Go ahead. If you can handle the heat.”
The twisted smile on the man’s face told the story. No one in Lester’s crew believed in any consequences beyond Lester himself. Dale wondered how to twist that around to his advantage.
“The chips match up,” Heather said, her voice tight.
He knew what she left unsaid. She recognized the animals on a personal level, the chip was simply objective confirmation. His anger burned fast and hot, sizzling through him, along with a need to avenge the grief and sorrow Lester and his crew had heaped upon her.
“Now can I kill him?”
