“Sorry, buddy. Not our fight.” He opened the door and waited for the dog to go in.
With all those guns around, he didn’t want Reggie loping off. No one in their right mind would confuse him with a duck. However, Owen knew better than most that the number of people in their right mind was fewer than anyone imagined. In certain light, with bad enough eyes, Reggie did look like a wolf.
Owen had enough problems without explaining to the military why their extremely expensive MWD—trained, Reggie was worth about fifty grand—had a bullet hole in him. Not to mention he’d have to take the dog to Becca for treatment, and he’d rather avoid seeing her. Especially since she’d said the same about him.
The cabin was small but new and very nice. According to the brochure, several of which lay on the barely nicked countertop, local craftsmen had fashioned all the faux rustic furniture and cabinets in both the kitchen and the bath. Local art hung on the walls. The quilt and the curtains had been purchased at the Three Harbors Arts and Crafts Fair.
“Now I just need to buy some local food and everything will match.”
A creak, then a groan drew Owen’s attention to the bed where Reggie already had his tail curled around his nose and his eyes closed. Owen could almost hear his thoughts.
If I can’t chase and catch whatever they’re shooting at, I might as well be asleep.
Owen had to agree. He unbuttoned his pants. Someone knocked on the door.
Reggie lifted his head; his ear twitched. While the majority of their time in the field required Reggie’s go-go-go personality, there were other instances when they had to be silent and still and wait for something to develop. Reggie didn’t like those times any more than Owen did. But he’d been trained, same as Owen, to respect them.
Owen closed all four fingers and his thumb into a fist—the hand signal for quiet—and the dog set his chin on his paws. Maybe if whoever was knocking heard nothing they would leave.
“Owen?”
Dammit. Owen knew that voice, and it wasn’t going anywhere.
* * *
I flailed around, smacked someone’s arms, grabbed onto them, and yanked. They didn’t move, so I dug in with my nails and scratched. Instead of relief, the pressure on my face increased. My lungs labored for air. Behind my closed eyelids black spots danced across a bloodred landscape.
At first I thought the growling and snarling was in my head, lack of oxygen bringing about bizarre hearing issues. Then I considered it might be death coming for me. Like those creepy black crawly things that had skulked through the movie Ghost and taken away the nasty people.
But they’d taken those people to hell and … come on! I was one of the good guys.
Wasn’t I?
Suddenly the pressure was gone, and I drew great gulps of lovely air into my screamingly tight lungs. The black spots cleared. I wasn’t alone in my apartment. Obviously.
However, I didn’t expect my wolf. She had a piece of brown cloth in her mouth that matched the shirt on the tall masked figure with the pillow still in one hand. Man? Woman? Couldn’t tell. Not only had the person covered his or her face, neck, and head, but he or she wore oversized clothing too bulky to define. I got the impression of either a very tall woman or a slim man.
The wolf yanked the pillow from the intruder’s gloved hand and tossed her head. The pillow thunked against the wall and hit the floor. The wolf’s lip lifted in a silent snarl. She stood between the stranger and the door.
Where was my phone? Nine-one-one was in order.
Suddenly the masked attacker grabbed my end table, sending a lamp crashing to the floor, and threw it at the wolf. She sidestepped, but it caught her on the hip, sent her skidding into the coat rack. Both the wolf and the rack smacked against the wall pretty hard. Sweatshirts, scarves, and coats rained down on the too still animal.
You’d think the guy/girl would have run. Instead, he/she picked up the pillow and headed in my direction once more. The eyes shining through the mask seemed crazed.
I couldn’t get up. The harder I tried, the dizzier I became. The longer I waited, the closer my attacker got.
I lifted my hands toward the descending pillow. I doubted I’d be able to prevent its smashing into my face again, but I had to try. The cool, crisp