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Delaney quickly assessed the situation. The odds of taking both brothers were about fifty-fifty, without a weapon. The rifle wouldn’t just be for show—Dude had probably been hunting all his life. He’d know how to use the weapon and wouldn’t hesitate. Delaney was on his property. Yes, they’d broken into her shop and stolen her dog, but she should’ve called the police. Instead, she’d high-tailed it out here on adrenaline and anger—leaving her Glock at home because anger and guns don’t mix—and now she had no recourse but to back out and regroup.
“This isn’t over,” she said.
Back behind the wheel of her truck, Delaney watched the Dudes finally close the front door. Once they disappeared she sat there, tears in her eyes, unsure what to do. She knew they had Wyatt. She couldn’t leave him. But she couldn’t get him out, either.
Without thinking, Delaney drew out her phone and texted Boom the Worley address, along with the words,They got Wyatt. After she’d done it, she realized her folly. Her uncles had been gone awhile and they were on their bikes. By the time they saw the text, it could be hours from now.
Delaney dropped her phone to her lap and her face to her palms. She cried quietly for a few seconds then raised her head and sniffed deeply.
Right before she started her engine, she heard it.
Coming faintly on the breeze, through the open window of her truck.
Wyatt’s howl.
It was a lonely, sad, pleading cry.
He was somewhere nearby. Locked up. Desperate to get out.
Without another thought, Delaney lifted her phone again, hit Recents and clicked Sean’s name. She linked the Worley address to the message, then just beneath it she typed three words.
I need you.
Sean stood inside the storage unit, dim light from the overhead bulb shining down on him as he stood amid a sea of boxes, one of Kim’s Hummel figurines gripped in each hand. There had been many times over the course of his life that he’d asked himself the question,What the hell are you doing?And this was definitely one of them.
His answer to that question was lacking. Rather than watch some television, have a couple of beers, or even turn in early, Sean had made the decision to drive out to the storage unit in the middle of the night and throw out Kim’s things once and for all. He’d told himself he was doing this to make sure that there was space in the unit to store the Willie G, which he planned to go pick up from Delaney tomorrow, in whatever stage of repair the bike existed. He’d give her some money, thank her for her time and haul that stupid bike back here, where it belonged.
The truth was, though, Sean already had plenty of space in the unit for the Willie G. So why was he standing here, angrily tearing through Kim’s old crap?
His phone vibrated in his pocket. Sean set one of the rosy-cheeked figures down and drew the phone out. When he saw a message from Delaney, his heart felt like it might explode from his chest. He opened the text, ready for anything.
He dropped the remaining Hummel to the ground, listening to it shatter as he rushed out of the storage unit, not even bothering to lock it behind him.
Delaney didn’t get very far down the Dudes’ gravel road. She drove just until she was out of sight, then parked and headed through the trees, back toward the farmhouse. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do, but she knew she couldn’t leave Wyatt here. What if Sean was asleep and didn’t see her text until morning? The Dudes didn’t want Wyatt. They just didn’t want Delaney to have him. They’d already hurt him by stealing him. There was nothing to stop them from hurting him more.
Delaney wound through the woods until she reached the back of the house, hoping to hear Wyatt howl again. A porch light offered enough illumination for her to see but was far enough away she was hidden in shadows. She stood there, next to an old shed, wondering what she was going to do next, when a whimpering sound came from close by. Delaney froze.
The whimpering sound came again.
Delaney rushed to the shed and grappled with the double doors, which had been chained and locked. “Wyatt?”
A scrambling sound came from behind the door. The whimpering turned to quick, sharp barks.
“Wyatt! I’m here.” Delaney sank down and peered through a gap in the warped doors. A white muzzle poked through. “Wyatt!”
The pittie’s barks turned to excited yelps. He licked at the hand Delaney offered.
“Don’t worry, boy. I’m going to get you out.” Delaney rose, brushing the tears from her cheeks as she scanned the shed. There was an old dirty window to the left of the door. “You two aren’t the only ones who can throw rocks at things,” Delaney growled as she spied a pile of bricks not far from the shed. She hefted one and tossed it at the window, which shattered easily.
Knowing she probably didn’t have much time, Delaney stripped off her shirt and punched through the rest of the glass and rotted wood, then climbed through the window in nothing but her bra, her shirt slung over any remaining shards. Wyatt rushed into her arms as she squatted. His fur was lathered up, like a horse that had been ridden too hard. His tongue was hot with fear and agitation as he lapped at her face. “C’mon, boy. We have to go.”
Delaney deadlifted him up to the window and pushed him through. She had just crawled out after him when shouts came from the direction of the house. Two figures were headed her way, one large and one small, both moving quickly.
Wyatt lifted his nose to the air, then darted for the woods.
Delaney turned to go after him, but the Dudes surrounded her. Apparently not thinking her a threat, they hadn’t brought their rifle. Dick lunged for her, but Delaney blocked his arm and swept his feet. Dick went down on his back so hard he made a noise like the wind went out of him. Dude grabbed her from behind, his monstrous arms wrapping around her and lifting her off the ground. Dick had just risen to his feet, his face in a snarl, when the sound of a siren wailed in the distance.
The Dudes’ heads whipped in the direction of the sound, which was soon followed by blue and red flashing lights that spread out over the grounds.
