Page 27 of Frost and Venom

Without warning, two very large dogs rushed around the corner of the barn and charged toward them, barking and growling.

Instinctively, Harlow angled her body protectively as she did her best to step in front of Wilder. She tried to make the movement subtle, but his voice, low and commanding, stopped her instantly.

“Don’t,” he ordered. “If they come at me, I’ll let you handle it, but if they go for you, I’ll be handling it.”

She knew that was all the warning she was going to get. Wilder wouldn’t hesitate to shoot either or both dogs if they attacked her. “Miley, Jett,” she called, holding out her palm toward the two charging females. “Leave it.” She gave the command firmly.

The dogs abruptly halted their charge, although they continued to pace in a wide circle around Harlow and Wilder, barking in a fierce, threatening manner. Harlow felt the tremendous training Helen had given the dogs was a tribute to her.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Miley,” she said, keeping her voice low but very firm, as Helen had taught her. Miley and Harlow went way back. She had helped to socialize her as a puppy, going over to the farm several times a week to spend time with the little fluff ball. Later, when Helen was having the older female, Jett, train her, she would come back into the house with Harlow and Helen for more socialization. Harlow had been a big part of her life from the beginning.

Jett was devoted to Helen, but not to the same degree as the oldest female, Gwen, or the male, Sid. Helen had named her dogs after singers. The male was Sid Vicious, and of the four dogs, he was the sweetest and seemingly the least wary, although he was large, muscular and had taken down a rather large bear as well as a mountain lion. The fact that both the dogs were nowhere in sight gave Harlow a little hope that they’d hung back to stay close to Helen. If she had been injured, the two dogs would definitely stay with her to protect her. That might even explain the carnage on the farm.

Looking much more closely at Miley and Jett, she could see streaks of red marring both coats. Her heart sank. That was blood and much more than she’d ever seen on them. They wore spiked collars that would protect their necks against any adversaries, and usually, because they worked together, the dogs were rarely even wounded, let alone torn up the way Miley and Jett appeared to be.

“Miley, where’s Helen? Find Helen,” she commanded. What if the blood turning the white fur rust was Helen’s?

Miley’s pacing circle brought the dog very close to Harlow—too close for Wilder’s comfort. He tracked the animal with his gun, but Harlow wanted the dog to get her scent. To recognize her. Miley trusted her, and if something had sent her into a panic, she would seek out Harlow to find a solution. She stayed still, allowing the agitated dog to come close to her while her partner, Jett, hung back to protect her.

Miley’s entire demeanor changed when she caught Harlow’s scent and recognized her. As she came in close, Harlow closed the gap between her and Wilder, deliberately rubbing her palm up and down his arm. “He’s a friend,” she emphasized repeatedly.

Wilder didn’t make the mistake of extending his hand for Miley to smell. He stood close to Harlow, allowing her to introduce the dog to him the way Helen had introduced her. The circumstances weren’t ideal. Miley and Jett were clearly agitated, but Harlow and Wilder remained very calm, Harlow giving off the air of authority and willingness to aid the dogs.

As Miley came close, Harlow’s breath caught in her throat. The dog had serious injuries. She had open wounds infested with flies. In places, the muscle was hanging out of the deep lacerations.

“Miley,” Harlow whispered. “You must be in so much pain. We have to call the vet and get help for these dogs. I can’t see how bad the wounds on Jett are, but I’m betting she’s just as torn up. The fact that Sid or Gwen, their leader, isn’t here is really concerning.”

“One step at a time,” Wilder cautioned. He indicated Miley with a chin jerk. “She’s trying to tell you something.”

Miley darted close and then whirled around to run a few feet toward the outer barn and then ran back to her, only to repeat the pattern, as if to say, Follow me.

“Good girl, Miley,” Harlow praised. “Find Helen.”

The dog whirled around and ran toward the large barn in the distance. Jett followed Miley. Harlow sprinted after the two dogs, Wilder keeping pace. She realized he shouldn’t be running when she glanced at his face, and his coloring was off.

“Wilder, wait here,” she hissed. “I can’t have you going down in the middle of all of this.” That wasn’t what she wanted to say. If anything happened to Wilder in the middle of the crisis with Helen and her animals, Harlow realized she would choose to help Wilder every time.

It was only when he indicated for her to keep moving that she realized she had slowed down considerably in order to stop him. Yanking out her phone as she jogged after the dogs, she tried to call Rainier to update him on the situation. She didn’t want him coming in blind. There were no bars. No way to reach him.

She swore under her breath as Sid came to his feet, roaring. Nearly two hundred pounds of sheer muscle charged, but Miley and Jett intervened, barking ferociously, clearly telling the male that they’d found help.

Both Harlow and Wilder skidded to a halt, staring beyond the male to the body he was guarding on the ground. Helen lay in the dirt, and evidence showed she’d tried crawling toward her house. Curled beside her was Gwen. They knew the dog was alive because she’d lifted her head, but she was in bad shape. From the angle Harlow had, she couldn’t see the lacerations the other dogs had on them. But Gwen wasn’t torn up the way the rest of the pack was. Something else had hurt her. Most likely the same something that had gotten to Helen.

Wilder put a restraining hand on her arm, curling his fingers loosely around her forearm. “She’s gone, honey. There isn’t anything you can do for her. We need to preserve the scene as best we can. I’ll use the satphone to call the vet and give Rainier the heads-up. He needs to know what he’s walking into.”

“I’m a nurse,” she reminded. “And she’s my friend. I need to know what happened here. The dogs kept the predators off of her. It might be possible to tell what killed her. This isn’t the first time I’ve needed to get law enforcement involved.”

She raised her voice to talk to the dogs as she walked slowly forward. Sid was the guardian she was most concerned with. Gwen was down and obviously in pain, as well as very ill. Sid was not only protective of his human, but also of his pack members. She kept talking to him, aware Wilder had accepted her decision but angled away from her in order to keep the male Pyrenean Mastiff in his sights.

Harlow kept her approach cautious, moving in a direct line to Gwen. The dog was still alive, and it might be possible to save it. Since the dog was curled up protectively next to Helen, Harlow could observe her friend, and the struggles the ground around her revealed about the hard way that she’d died.

Chapter Seven

Harlow looked around the table at her circle of friends. Her heart was heavy, and she knew it showed on her face. The Sunrise Café was a safe place. A place of healing and comfort. Stella, Shabina, Zahra and Vienna sat at the familiar, only secluded table in the back. Raine was the only one from their circle missing—unless you counted Sam.

She didn’t want to see Sam and face his disappointment over the fact that she hadn’t shown him the very thick file on the death threats she’d received over the years. Especially the latest ones. She felt guilty about not sharing with him first. She should have. She wasn’t trying to be stubborn. She feared Rainier thought that of her; maybe all his security men thought it. She was accustomed to threats and to keeping secrets. Her family had been all about secrets.

“Helen must have been in terrible pain for hours before she died,” she whispered to the others. They’d all known Helen, just as she had. They might not have been her neighbors, but Helen loved the Sierra just as they did. It was difficult to lose another friend.