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“Screw you, bitch. It shoulda been you.”
“What?” Dale’s temper was fraying with every implied threat against Heather and he found himself fighting the urge to plow a fist through the man’s face. He struggled to maintain some shred of professionalism. “You’re sitting here among a pile of dogs stolen from a county shelter where a man was murdered, presumably trying to fend off the attack.”
“Bullshit. You can’t fool me. Watson is one of us. Always has been. No one wanted him dead.”
“That’s not true,” Heather insisted. “It’s not,” she said, her eyes pleading. “He wasn’t one of them.”
“Stupid, soft girl. So what if we took away a few lousy dogs? The world’s got too many as it is. Call it a public service.”
“You God-forsaken—” Heather reached for the shovel and hefted the business end to her shoulder.
“Go ahead, bitch. Swing away. It shoulda been you pinned in that dog kennel.” He spat at her. “Begging.” The guard raised his chin, giving Heather a clear target.
Everything in Dale went utterly still. “Say again?”
The guard was too focused on Heather to notice the lethal edge in Dale’s voice. “Take your shot while you have the chance. Lester always delivers on his promises.” The bastard had the audacity to lick his lips, his eyes traveling up and down the length of Heather.
“Get up,” Dale said. “You can tell your story to the deputy sheriff and see what that gets you.”
The guard would be lucky if that story didn’t get him lost in the system.
Suddenly confident, the guard shoved himself to his feet, using the closest tree for balance. “Which way?”
Heather murmured something about Darwin, but Dale let it go, pointing toward the main access road Lester’s crew had used to reach the dogfighting site.
Grunting with pain, the wounded guard shuffled away from Dale, Heather, and the remains of the losing dogs.
“Stop,” Dale said quietly. “Freeze.” He turned to Heather. “Did you hear me give those orders?”
She nodded.
“Good.”
“This way,” Dale called out.
The guard ignored him, ambling along in an awkward manner that reminded Dale of his first weeks of physical therapy after his injury. The unwelcome connection irritated him, but before he could do anything about it, Heather went on the attack. She dropped her back pack and trotted forward, swinging the shovel hard into the limping man’s back.
The guard crumpled, wheezing from the blow. “What the f—”
“Wrong way,” Heather said. Standing over him, her eyes were lit with a dangerous satisfaction. “Still no fatal wounds.” She planted the shovel into the dirt and dusted off her palms.
Dale stood there, mute and gawking at the beautiful sight of Heather full of pride under a shaft of moonlight.
“Dale?”
He shook it off. “Nice job.” He stepped up, offering her a couple of the zip ties. “Let’s make it easy for Ross and your brother, since they’re doing us a favor.”
The guard started protesting his innocence again but Dale didn’t want to hear it. Shrugging out of his jacket, he pulled off his T-shirt and cut off the bottom to use as a gag. They marched the suspect in relative silence to the point where Ross would find him. When the guard was secured, Dale led Heather back from the road, close enough to keep watch and not be seen.
“I heard you ask Ross to pick up J.C. on the way back and keep this whole mess quiet. Why?”
Dale sighed. There wasn’t much reason to hide any details now. She’d heard the terrible things the guard had said about her. “Jurisdiction first of all—and Ross can keep this out of the official record for a few hours. If Lester hears we have one of his men, there’s no telling what he’ll do.”
“That’s what I thought you’d say.”
He didn’t like the worry hovering at the edge of her voice. “Look at me,” he said quietly. He waited until she lifted her face, met his gaze. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
“I b-believe you.” She clamped her lips together and sat back on her heels. “I want… I mean, I don’t want this to spill over. For anyone else to get hurt,” she finished on a raw whisper.
