his hands and kept going. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement and whirled in that direction.
Billy lifted his hands in surrender. “You get him, man. I know better.”
“You need help?” Joaquin appeared at his side.
“I need a leg,” Owen snapped, and the kid winced. “Sorry. No, I—”
Snarling erupted from the rear of the clinic, followed by thuds, shouts, and curses.
Owen swallowed his pride. “I’ll take that help now.”
He set his hand on Joaquin’s shoulder and, using the kid like a crutch, moved a lot more quickly, though no more gracefully, to the back of the building.
Reggie had a man’s pants leg in his mouth, and he was shaking it so hard he nearly pulled the guy off his feet.
“Aus!”
Reggie immediately let go, but he continued to stand so close, the fellow backed up until he hit the wall.
“You know him?” Owen asked.
“Not from here,” Joaquin said.
When Reggie went razorback it meant “insurgent.” This guy did not look like Al Qaeda. Didn’t mean he wasn’t. Still, Owen doubted they’d started slinking around this far north. Nevertheless, there was something about him that had set off the dog.
Was it the perfect blond hair and the well-trimmed goatee? Nah. What about the pretentious black silk shirt and slacks, or the once shiny, now dusty and slobbered-on black shoes? Doubtful. Could be the silver ring on his thumb. It certainly annoyed Owen.
“Reggie, hier.”
The dog appeared incredulous. But he came as he’d been told, though he paused and snatched something off the ground.
At first Owen thought Reggie had torn free a good chunk of the guy’s well-pressed black pants. But when he took the item from the dog’s mouth, the material was different. Heavier. Knit. With holes big enough to stick his fingers through.
A ski mask.
Owen crossed the distance, grabbed the man by his smooth silk shirt, and smacked him against the wall.
“Dude.” Joaquin sounded both shocked and impressed.
“Who are you?” Owen demanded.
“Jjj— Rrr— Ga—”
“I didn’t get that.” Owen tightened his grip. The jerk’s mouth moved, but nothing came out. He liked him better that way.
“You wanna let him go?” Becca stood in the doorway. He’d never seen her in scrubs before. He kind of liked them.
“No.”
“Do it anyway.”
He considered saying “Hell, no,” but decided she’d understand when he didn’t do it. “I hear you’re searching for someone wearing a ski mask.”
“He isn’t.”
Owen lifted his other hand, which still held the mask.
“That isn’t his.”
“I disagree.” He loosened his grip just a little. “How about you?”
“Gar-shrul. Shll.”
“See?”
Becca made a sound that was part snort, part laugh, and part cough. He wasn’t sure what that meant. He was a little busy to ask. His leg had started to shake. Sweat ran down his forehead. His fingers ached. He’d known he was out of shape, but this was ridiculous.
“Owen,” Becca said softly.
Owen sighed and let the man go.
Chapter 12
“Thanks for coming,” I said.
“Why wouldn’t I?” Owen flexed his fingers as if he wanted to grab someone again, or maybe punch them.
“I was talking to him.” I pointed at the man Owen had been holding a few inches off the ground. As soon as Owen had released him, he’d slid downward, gasping.
“What happened?” Owen’s gaze was on my hand, which was still encased in plastic. CSI hadn’t yet arrived, though everyone else in town had. “Who is this guy?”
I stepped outside. I had to shoulder Owen out of the way to do it. He was behaving like a dog over a bone. Reggie wasn’t much better, though he had the excuse that he was a dog. At least he stayed back far enough that I didn’t have to push him out of the way. I wasn’t sure I’d have had the guts to do it. Reggie appeared more annoyed than Owen, or maybe it was just the black cloth strands that hung out of his mouth.
“Jeremy?”
I went to my knees, yanking up his pants leg to see if Reggie had removed more than thread. MWDs were trained to bite, but on command. However, there wasn’t a mark on him.
Jeremy rubbed his throat, eyes closed, face paler than I’d ever seen it. As he was pretty pale to begin with, that was saying something. At this point, his blond goatee had more color.
I touched his arm, got a shock of static electricity, and pulled back, the plastic bag on my hand rattling with the sudden movement.
Jeremy’s eyes snapped open. He’d felt it too. It was early for static electricity, though maybe the stupid-ass plastic on my