Mission to Protect

by Terri Reed

  “Something must have happened between then and today,” the doctor suggested. “Something that made Dakota want to lash out?”

  But what? Westley hadn’t seen her uncle again until a little while ago. Could it be that Dakota had sensed the other man’s fear and reacted? No, Dakota wouldn’t have shown such extreme hostility because of the other man’s fear.

  It was a puzzle that Westley intended to unravel because he couldn’t have an undisciplined dog in the program. He would have to do some research and see if there was something in Dakota’s background before he came to Canyon that might explain his behavior.

  With Dakota by his side, they left the vet clinic and headed along the now darkened street toward the training center. When they reached the edge of the parking lot, Westley stopped short. A thought rammed into him with the force of a missile.

  What if Dakota had reacted so violently because he recognized the scent of the man who’d shot him?

  The realization made Westley stumble, and nearly go to his knees.

  Felicity!

  He had to get to her. To warn her. To protect her. From her uncle.

  At a run, he led Dakota to one of the training-center vehicles. He had keys to all the SUVs on his keychain. Quickly, he and Dakota jumped inside. He fumbled to find the right key and stuck it into the ignition.

  Headlights cut across the parking lot as one of the maintenance trucks pulled in and came to an abrupt halt. The driver’s door flew open, and Staff Sergeant Patrick Dooley hopped out, a gun in his hand.

  Dakota let out a snarl.

  “Quiet,” Westley admonished, not wanting to alert the other man to their presence. Breath lodged in his throat, he watched Patrick motion with the gun and Felicity climbed out of the vehicle.

  Westley’s heart stuttered to a crawl. Patrick was forcing Felicity to turn over the tablet. But what would Patrick do when he realized she didn’t have the combination to the safe?

  Holding his breath, Westley waited until Felicity and her uncle disappeared into the training center before he and Dakota jumped out of the SUV and raced to the door.

  There was no time to call for backup. Westley had to get inside before Patrick did something drastic.

  Swallowing back the fear of losing Felicity, Westley felt determination burn through his gut. He would do anything to save the woman he loved.

  THIRTEEN

  With the barrel of the gun pressing hard against her ribs, Felicity led the way through the training center toward the back office. The muted sound of dogs barking from the kennel filled the hallway.

  Glancing at her uncle, she noticed the beads of sweat on his brow and the tightness around his mouth. He was nervous. After hearing of his horrific ordeal when he’d been attacked by a vicious dog, she wanted to feel sorry for him, but any sort of tender emotions toward her uncle were gone.

  He’d basically admitted to killing her father, who’d supposedly been his best friend, and trying to kill her, his own niece.

  Her mother was going to be devastated.

  Felicity’s heart hurt for her mom.

  As they passed the break room, Lila Fields stepped out, nearly ramming into them.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” the rookie trainer said, almost dropping the plate in her hand along with a buttered bagel.

  “No problem.” Felicity tried to keep her voice neutral and not let the panic show.

  Lila’s curious gaze landed on Patrick. “Hello.”

  Felicity gritted her teeth. The last thing she needed was Lila asking questions or becoming suspicious that something was wrong. She didn’t want anybody else’s life in danger. She needed Lila to go about her business so that Uncle Patrick wouldn’t feel the need to harm the woman.

  Hoping to keep her voice free of the fear making her heart boom in her ears and her fingertips tingle, she said, “Lila, this is my Uncle Patrick. We’re looking for Westley. Is he in his office?”

  “No, I believe he took Dakota to the vet.”

  Felicity’s stomach sank. She wasn’t sure what to do now. When Uncle Patrick realized she didn’t know how to get into the safe, he would go ballistic. She had to figure out a way to overpower him. A dismal prospect. He outweighed her by half, at least.

  “We’ll wait for him, then,” Uncle Patrick said. “In his office.”

  He gave Felicity a nudge with the barrel of the gun, effectively keeping the weapon out of sight, and kept his fingers tightly around her biceps.

  Leaving Lila with a nod, they continued down the hall. Once inside the office, Patrick gave her a little shove, forcing her to the middle of the room, while he shut the door.

  “Where’s the tablet?”

  “It’s in the safe.” She visually swept the room, searching for something to disarm him with, or to knock him out.

  Anger for all he’d done—a hit-and-run, killing her father, trying to kill her—burned like a torch inside of her. But there was nothing within reach to use as a weapon. Frustration beat against her temple. Her fingers curled at her side.

  Waving the gun, Patrick said, “Where’s the safe?”

  Felicity swallowed back the anxiety dampening her anger. “In the desk cabinet to the right.”

  Uncle Patrick moved to inspect the cabinet. Taking advantage of his distraction, she edged toward the door, hoping to make an escape. If she could get to the kennels, she could let the dogs loose. Uncle Patrick might run away.

  Or shoot one of the canines.

  On second thought, she couldn’t put the animals at risk, either.

  “Take one more step and you’ll regret it,” Uncle Patrick said, aiming the weapon at her head. “Open the safe.”

  “I don’t have the combination.” Holding up her hands, she spoke calmly, much more calmly than she felt. “Only Westley does.”

  She wasn’t sure if that was true. She supposed Caleb Streeter had access, but she wouldn’t volunteer that information. Who knew what Uncle Patrick would do.

  Uncle Patrick plopped down into one of the two side chairs and put his feet up on the desk. “Then we’ll wait for Master Sergeant James.”

  Apprehension bubbled up in her chest. She wished there was a way to warn Westley. She hated the thought of him walking in blind to the situation.

  She remained standing where she was between Uncle Patrick and the door, hoping that when Westley came in she could provide a shield. She could only pray that Lila would see Westley before he headed to the office and tell him they were waiting.

  At least that would give him a heads-up. But it wouldn’t tell him to be cautious. He had no idea her uncle was the one behind her father’s murder and the attempts on her life.

  She hoped Westley would cooperate with her uncle because she couldn’t stand it if anything happened to him.

  Deep inside she had to admit her concern for Westley’s welfare not only stemmed from the fact that they were friends and worked closely together, but also because her feelings for him had morphed into something that left her breathless.

  She loved Westley.

  If the circumstances weren’t so dire and precarious, she’d sink to the floor with the knowledge that she’d fallen in love with the one man she shouldn’t. Not if she hoped to return to the training center under his command.

  It was a problem she had no idea how to resolve. She prayed there would be time to figure it out.

  * * *

  Westley kept Dakota at his side as they eased into the back entrance of the training center. The overhead light revealed the hallway was empty. Knowing Felicity’s uncle would go nowhere near the dogs, Westley figured they had headed to the office. He needed to get there before anything happened to Felicity. With caution tightening his shoulder muscles, he and Dakota hustled to the office. The door was closed.

  Dakota sniffed the edge of the door. The hair on his back raised,
alerting to the fact that the dog smelled the enemy. Westley gave Dakota the hand signal used by soldiers for combat silence and then motioned for the dog to take up a position on his belly to the side of the door out of the line of sight.

  Feeling the need to ask God for help, Westley sent up a quick prayer. Hope that the Lord above would hear his plea bolstered his resolve. He dug his phone from his pocket and put it on silent, then dialed Captain Blackwood’s cell.

  Leaving the line open, he tucked the cell into his breast pocket and reached for the door handle. On a deep breath, he swung the door open, careful to keep to the side in case Patrick had a twitchy trigger finger.

  Felicity stood in the middle of the room, her surprised gaze meeting his. She mouthed, He’s got a gun.

  Giving her a nod, Westley decided to play ignorant. “What’s going on?”

  “Come in, Master Sergeant,” Patrick drawled from the chair facing the desk. “Put your hands in the air.”

  Complying, Westley walked through the door and moved to stand next to Felicity. “What’s with the gun, Staff Sergeant Dooley?”

  Patrick’s feet hit the floor. “I want the tablet.”

  “Okay. I’ll give it to you.” Obviously the man wasn’t thinking clearly. There was no way he’d walk out of here unscathed. They were in a public place. One yell and reinforcements would come. But Westley had questions, and the best way to learn the answers was to appease him. “Tell me why you’ve been trying to kill your niece.”

  “It’s that serial killer’s fault,” Patrick said. “He targeted Felicity. I knew once that happened there would be extra scrutiny on her and eventually there’d be questions about Graham’s death. Agent Steffen was sniffing around, trying to reopen the investigation. I had to make sure there was nothing left of Graham’s investigation to point to me.”

  “Are you admitting to killing Agent Monroe?” Westley asked him.

  “I’m not admitting anything.”

  “But my father’s case notes will convict you of the hit-and-run,” Felicity said.

  “I told you that was an accident,” Patrick said.

  “And poisoning Felicity? Was that an accident?”

  “It would have worked if that dog hadn’t intervened,” Patrick groused. “Everyone would have thought that psycho had made good on his threat. And then I could have found the tablet.”

  Felicity took a step forward. “What did you do with my father’s laptop?”

  The older man snorted. “It’s at the bottom of the Gulf of Mexico.” Patrick waved his gun. “Now give me that tablet! Once I destroy the thing, there won’t be any evidence.”

  Afraid that Patrick’s agitated state would lead to him shooting Felicity, Westley tucked her behind him, where he could protect her. “Once we give you the evidence, then what? Are you going to kill us, too? Both of us?”

  A scowl wrinkled Patrick’s forehead. “I’ll have to, won’t I? Even if you couldn’t prove what happened was my fault, you’d make my life miserable. But I’ll make sure to blame it on the Red Rose Killer.”

  The man was definitely unhinged if he thought he’d get away with his scheme. Keeping a hand on Felicity and forcing her to move in tandem with him, Westley edged slowly around to the other side of the desk, leaving a clear path from the doorway to Patrick. “Boyd Sullivan is a convenient scapegoat.”

  “You won’t get away with it,” Felicity said. “Agent Steffen will discover your crimes.”

  “He hasn’t yet,” Patrick said. “Now, open the safe.”

  Knowing they had one shot at this, Westley tugged Felicity into a crouch in front of the safe. In a loud, clear voice, Westley yelled, “Get ’em!”

  Dakota sprang into action, charging into the room and going straight for Patrick’s leg. His powerful jaw latched on. Patrick let out a yowl of pain and terror. Westley jumped up and vaulted over the desk, grabbing the gun and wresting it away from the other man.

  Aiming the weapon at Patrick’s chest, Westley gave the commands, “Out! Heel!”

  The dog immediately let go and backed up to a sit beside Westley. But Dakota’s body was tense and poised, ready to attack if given the command.

  Patrick crumpled to a heap, his hands holding on to his leg. Felicity grabbed the desk lamp and lifted it high over her uncle’s head.

  “Felicity, no. It’s over,” Westley said, afraid she’d follow through on the intent in her eyes. He didn’t want her to have that regret. “I have him covered. He’s not going anywhere.”

  Slowly, her gaze cleared and she lowered the lamp, setting it carefully back on the desk. Stiffly, she moved to stand next to Dakota. She put a hand on his head. “Good dog.”

  The sound of pounding feet filled the room and a moment later several Security Forces officers stormed in with weapons drawn. Then Captain Blackwood stepped inside, followed by Ian.

  “It seems you have everything under control, Master Sergeant James,” the captain said. Holding up his phone, he added, “We heard everything.”

  Lowering the gun and handing it to Security Forces, Westley told Felicity, “I dialed the captain’s cell before I entered.”

  She blinked up at him with surprise lighting the depths of her eyes. “How did you know?”

  “I realized that Dakota was reacting to the scent of the man who’d shot him when he went into attack mode back at your uncle’s apartment,” he explained. “I should have figured that out right away. I’m so sorry you had to go through this.”

  “I didn’t see it at first, either,” she told him. “He’s family.” She watched as the Security Forces officers dragged her uncle from the room in handcuffs. Westley put his arm around her shoulders, offering her what comfort he could. It took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to gather her in his arms and hold her close and never let her go.

  “I thought I could trust him.” She shook her head, sadness pulling at the corners of her mouth. He wanted to kiss away her disappointment and hurt.

  “I found a photo of him and my dad on motorcycles,” she said. “That’s when I realized he was the one whom my dad was investigating for the hit-and-run.” She let out a bitter sound. “He said my dad had wanted him to turn himself in, but Uncle Patrick refused. Instead, he killed my father and made it look like an accident.”

  “You can rest easy now,” Ian said.

  “No,” Westley countered, his heart rate jumping. “She’s still a target of the Red Rose Killer.”

  “Of course,” Ian stated. “That’s not what I meant at all. We have closure now on Agent Monroe’s death. The family of the hit-and-run victim will appreciate knowing the man who paralyzed their son will be charged with multiple crimes and spend the rest of his life in prison.”

  It was justice. But it would be painful for the Monroe family.

  “What is the latest intel on Sullivan?” Westley asked.

  “There have been reported sightings all over the state,” Justin answered. “We’re not sure of the reliability of any of the information. Our best guess is Boyd is paying people to claim they’ve seen him.”

  Westley’s gut clenched. She was still in danger. Not only from the maniac serial killer known as the Red Rose Killer, but also from Westley’s feelings for her. He didn’t know how he could continue to be detailed to her protection while keeping his love for her a secret. He wasn’t that good at subterfuge.

  He was going to have to trust that God would watch over her and arrange for someone else to be assigned to her protection detail. For both their sakes.

  * * *

  “You’re what?” Felicity stared at Westley. Sunlight filtering through the blinds of the photo lab gleamed in his dark hair. His beret was tucked into the pocket of his battle-ready uniform as he stood with his hands stiff at his sides, and his strong jaw was set in a determined line. Beside him Dakota tilted his head, his dark-eyed gaze bouncing betw
een them.

  “You can’t asked to be rotated off my detail,” she stated flatly.

  Why would he do that? Her pulse pounded with adrenaline as if she’d run a marathon. Every vital system in her went on alert at hearing such disturbing news.

  “It’s a good idea if we don’t spend as much time together,” he said in a rush.

  Disbelief washed over her. “You don’t want to spend time with me?”

  He grimaced. “No. That’s not it.”

  “I’m pretty certain that is what you just said.”

  “I’m botching this.”

  She planted her fists on her hips. “You think?” A ribbon of frustration wound around her heart.

  Rolling his shoulders, he said, “The training center needs me.”

  “I thought Caleb was handling things there.”

  “He is.”

  “But you’re not happy with his work?”

  “No. I mean, that’s not what I’m saying.”

  Her head was spinning. She wished he’d be clearer. “Then...?”

  “Caleb is doing a great job, but there are just some things that need to be taken care of, that need my attention. And still so many dogs are missing. I need to focus on finding the dogs.”

  She wasn’t quite sure she believed that excuse. Yes, the dogs were a priority. One she could help him with. She really didn’t want to take offense at him basically standing here telling her he didn’t want to be with her, but she couldn’t help the sense of betrayal. Hurt. Disappointment flooded her veins. The training center had been running fine for the past week, and would continue to. But that really wasn’t the issue, was it?

  She’d thought she and Westley had come so far. She’d thought he felt the same way toward her. She’d hoped he’d fallen in love with her the way she’d fallen in love with him. Apparently, she was wrong.

  “You don’t want to protect me anymore.” The words tasted bitter on the tongue. “Okay, I get it. You didn’t want the detail in the first place. I don’t even know why you agreed to it.”

  She walked away from him, stopping at the desk to picked up her camera. She fiddled with the lenses, trying hard not to let the tears burning the back of her eyes fall. Her heart crumbled, the pain sharp.