Her Secret Protector

by Roxanne Snopek

“Fine. Go feed your dogs. I’ll wait in the car, if that’s okay with you.”

  “I’ll be quick,” he promised.

  The dogs were overjoyed at his return, as usual, but Ethan was anxious to get back to Carrie. He shouldn’t have kissed her and wasn’t exactly sure why he had. Tears were the single biggest turnoff he knew of, but turn-ons and turnoffs had nothing to do with it. The kiss hadn’t been motivated by lust.

  He’d simply wanted to care for her, to give her the tenderness she so obviously needed. She certainly hadn’t gotten it from her mother. He hadn’t meant for the kiss to happen; it was supposed to be a gentle hug, a normal response to finding someone in distress. Nothing more.

  The dogs wolfed down their food and he led them to the back door.

  “A quick run, you guys,” he said. “Then I have to go again. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.”

  He hoped Carrie wasn’t falling asleep in the car. Then again, maybe she needed it.

  At the far end of the field, Gun let out an excited yelp and trotted into the underbrush. The other dogs stopped, lifted their heads and set out to join him.

  Good. Let them chase a rabbit for a few minutes. That would make them happy.

  Carrie was attracted to him – her response to his kiss had confirmed that beyond all doubt – but Ethan suspected it wasn’t him so much as the bad-boy image he represented. She wanted to break out of the rigid confines of her Cherry Lake persona and someone like him would be just the way to do it.

  But if she was so bent out of shape about her pictures being seen by the locals, what chance was there that her interest in him was anything more than a bit of personal rebellion?

  Hell, could he honestly say his own interest was legitimate? He’d been lonely for so long, he’d probably react like this to anyone as cute, friendly, funny, nice and sweet as Carrie. She was tough to resist. But for exactly all those reasons, she was not for him.

  She was a joiner. He was a loner. Firewalls, barricades, blockades, those were his specialty. It’s what kept people and their information safe. He built them for others, he maintained them for himself. It was only smart. Sooner or later, even if Carrie was genuinely interested in the real Ethan, she’d see that the real Ethan came with a lot of baggage that she didn’t want to handle.

  Best if he accepted this now, prevented the inevitable pain.

  Unfortunately, every time he’d convinced himself of this, that damn blue vase popped into his mind.

  Did he really have her pegged so neatly?

  The way her hair fell over her pale shoulders in a warm, honey-gold waterfall, one wavy lock trickling over to tease her breast, that sweet half-smile, innocent and sexy all at once, all of it stuck in his brain, making him doubt himself.

  Tempting him to take a chance on her.

  A racket sounded at the far end. Whatever Gun had found, it had them all stirred up. Impulsive as he was, his enthusiasm was contagious and great for morale.

  Ethan had been like that, once. Ready to take chances, risk being wrong, gambling that his skills and wits would outsmart his opponents.

  He’d won. But then Vincent had tried to follow in his footsteps.

  The barking escalated and Ethan walked out, shading his face with his hands. The low shrubbery rustled at the fence line as Gun pushed and snuffled, his tail waving like a flag. It was a strong alert. He’d definitely found something. Ashur and Mars stood back, stiff-legged, their lips twitching, their eyes pinned to something only they could see.

  Suspicious.

  “Dogs,” he called. “Here.”

  At the sound of his voice, Gun went mad, barking and snarling, throwing himself at the fence. Then the other dogs leaped in as well, their hackles raised, their voices raised in frantic snarling.

  Oh no.

  But before Ethan could call out, the backlit greenery opened, and a black bear hurtled through the brush, straight for the young dog.

  From the distance he was at, all Ethan could see was a snake-like head aimed low, jaws agape, muscles rippling, then a tangle of brown and black, tumbling, shrieking, rolling.

  He raced for the shed, grabbed the shotgun he kept hidden behind the door.

  “Carrie,” he yelled. “Stay in the car.”

  He ran out to join the melee, his heart pounding.

  Damn it! He should have paid attention to the reaction of the more experienced dogs and known it wasn’t just a rabbit.

  Ashur and Mars were doing their best now, leaping off and on the bruin’s broad back, snapping and snarling wildly, twisting and turning to keep away from the sharp claws and white teeth.

  Where was Gun?

  Ethan fired once into the air and immediately, the bear threw off the dogs and bolted back into the underbrush, bawling.

  Ashur and Mars chased after it and that’s when Ethan saw the younger dog, lying on his side, exactly where the bear had been standing.

  He raced to his dog’s side, yelling for the others to return.

  “Oh shit, oh damn, damn, buddy,” he muttered as he fell to his knees. “Hey Gunny, hey boy, it’s gonna be all right.”

  Gun was conscious, panting wildly and quaking beneath his blood-soaked fur. He made no attempt to rise.

  Ethan ran his hands over the dog’s sides and back, down his limbs, over his head. Long, thick scratches raked through his fur, some just breaking the skin, others opening swaths of white, twitching tissue, all of it sticky with blood.

  Gun’s eyes were enormous and Ethan noted with alarm that the color of his tongue had gone from bright red to a dull pink. Gently and carefully, he lifted the dog’s hind end to shift him and that’s when Gun reacted.

  He whipped his head up and over, yelping loudly and snapping at Ethan.

  A large laceration ran down the length of the dog’s inner thigh. Blood gushed rhythmically as Gun moved. An artery, then.

  Ethan straddled the dog’s body backwards, to protect himself from Gun’s instinctive reactions, and slapped his hand over the wound. As expected, the dog howled and squirmed, his teeth grazing the back of Ethan’s jeans.

  Damn, damn, damn!

  Ashur and Mars, back now, but with bloodlust still coursing through them, danced around him, howling and growling at the scent of danger.

  He needed a tourniquet of some kind. A bandage. A stretcher.

  A muzzle.

  Without taking his hand off the wound, Ethan yanked his t-shirt awkwardly over his head, and quickly slipped it over the gaping flesh. Then, again one-handedly, he fumbled at his waistband to undo his belt. Muzzle or tourniquet?

  No question. He slipped it around the dog’s limb and, as best he could, tightened it to slow the flow of blood. He hoped he wasn’t doing some kind of irreparable damage. Gun was a natural athlete. It would break the dog’s heart if he couldn’t run anymore.

  It would break Ethan’s heart if the dog died.

  Now, all he had to do was get Gun from the field to his truck, without getting bitten on his bare arms and chest in the process. At seventy pounds, the dog was big for his breed, and all muscle, but still an easy-enough burden for a man Ethan’s size.

  He bent down and scooped the dog up. Again, Gun flipped his head back in an open-mouthed howl. He wasn’t attempting to bite or slash, but on Ethan’s bare flesh it had the effect of being slammed with a mace.

  “Come on, buddy,” he muttered through gritted teeth. “Work with me.”

  He staggered across the field, keeping his head as far back as possible to avoid Gun’s jaws.

  He was still fifty yards away when the dog’s skull connected with his jaw and they both went down.

  Chapter Eleven

  ‡

  Carrie jerked her head up. Was that a gunshot? She fumbled with the latch, nearly falling out of the car in her haste.

  “Ethan?” she called. “What’s going on?”

  She ran toward the sounds of barking and howling coming from behind the house. She hadn’t seen this part of the property so she wasn’t su
re where she was going.

  “Ethan, where are you?”

  Then she heard cursing, a yip, a whine, then a howl, suddenly cut short.

  There, a gate.

  Cautiously, she pushed it open, then blinked at the sight in front of her. The outdoor run had obviously once been used for equestrian training. Now, it held equipment that could only be for dog training. Jumps, rings, chutes, A-frames, boardwalks, poles, and other stuff she couldn’t identify.

  But where was Ethan?

  “Carrie, thank God!”

  She looked down. He was on the ground, half-naked, smeared with blood and dirt and who knew what else. The dogs milled around him, their hackles raised, ominous growls rumbling deep in their throats.

  Her heart stopped, then began again in a wild rush.

  “What happened? Are you all right?”

  She could see now that one dog lay in the dust in front of him, while the other two paced back and forth, first at his side, then behind, then in front. They looked up at her but didn’t wag their tails. Carrie’s grip on the gate tightened. All feeling disappeared from her legs and her guts turned to water.

  She wanted to help, but whatever had happened had put those dogs into full alarm mode.

  “Gun tangled with a bear. He’s bleeding out. Femoral artery, I think.”

  “A bear. Oh my God. Is he okay?”

  “No. I don’t know. I’ve got to get him to the vet.”

  He had one hand wrapped tightly around the dog’s back leg, which was covered with what she guessed was his t-shirt, the pristine white now garishly splashed with crimson.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “Me? No. This is all his blood. Come on. I can’t carry him without the bandage coming loose.”

  She swallowed, looking again at Ashur and Mars, standing behind him.

  “Ashur, Mars, relax,” he snapped. “Carrie’s a friend. Come on, ignore them.”

  The dogs remained watchful, but allowed her to approach. She knelt beside Ethan.

  “What do you want me to do?”

  Shirtless, he seemed even bigger than she remembered.

  “Grab his back end, like this. You’re going to have to keep pressure on the wound.”

  He slid one arm under the dog’s hind end, demonstrating. Gun yelped, and flailed his big head into Ethan’s cheek with an audible crack.

  “Okay, buddy, settle down.” He winced and opened his mouth, working his jaw. “I know it looks scary, sweetheart, but he doesn’t mean it. I’ve got the end with the teeth anyway. You ready?”

  “If you say so,” she answered. She wrapped her arms around the dog, handling the injured leg the way he’d indicated. Warm, sticky blood oozed over her hands. She could feel it dampening her jeans, and the front of her white cotton top.

  Clothes were the last thing she was worried about now. This wasn’t her dog but he was important to Ethan and that overruled her fear. Carrie sensed controlled panic in every movement the man made. They had to get Gun to help, and quickly.

  Ethan had the dog in a kind of headlock, his massive biceps rippling next to the dog’s ears, and he was crooning words of comfort to the beast.

  Blood and muscle and glistening fangs, and easy, boy, it’s gonna be okay gentleness.

  Her face was inches away from Ethan’s naked body and she could feel the heat coming off him, smell the sweat and iron and dirt on his dark skin, the fragrance of danger and excitement.

  Suddenly, to Carrie, the emotion stirred up by his kiss was nothing. She felt as if she’d slipped into a rushing river, and was being sucked down by a mighty undertow that was pulling her swiftly and surely away from everything light and bright and safe, into another world where she was at the mercy of a man who could ignore his own pain for the sake of another’s.

  Even the animal that had bitten him.

  “Lift with your legs now, he’s a big boy.”

  Carrie jostled against Ethan as they stood up, wishing she didn’t feel so lightheaded.

  “Sorry,” she said, trying to get her balance. But she was knocked off kilter on several fronts, if the whole rushing-river sensation was any indication.

  Ethan appeared not to have noticed the contact.

  “We’ll take the truck. There’s a blanket in the back. I’ll hold, you drive. You okay with that?”

  “Better that than the other way around,” she said with feeling. “Don’t you want to grab a shirt… or something?”

  “No time.”

  They reached the truck and Ethan opened the extended-cab door. “Help me get him up into the back.”

  Still careful to maintain pressure on the wound, Carrie hoisted the dog’s hindquarters up into Ethan’s waiting arms, with their big, hot, blood-streaked muscles.

  “Good.” He sat with one leg cocked, the other stretched out, the dog settled tightly against his lower abdomen. “Put the other dogs inside, then we can go.”

  The dogs were hovering against Carrie’s legs, whining and panting up at Ethan, the fur at their shoulders still raised. They weren’t going to listen to her.

  “Will they follow me?”

  “They will if I tell them to,” he said. “Go.”

  “Okay.” She looked at the dogs. “Um, come on, dogs.”

  They looked between her and Ethan as if to say, you’re kidding.

  “Go!” snapped Ethan. He gestured to Carrie. “Call them. Be assertive. They’ll follow.”

  “Come.” She turned around and this time, both dogs fell in behind her. They each threw a backward glance at Ethan, but they followed, and when she opened the door to the house, they went across the threshold without hesitation. Mars disappeared inside, but as Carrie went to close the door, Ashur turned.

  She shrank back, but instead of threatening her, the dog wagged his tail gently, then sat down in front of her and lifted his right front paw.

  “Oh!” said Carrie.

  He waved it at her, as if to tell her to hurry, and she took it, shook it once, then dropped it. He stood up, cocked his head, then woofed gently.

  “Right,” she said, dazed. “Okay. Good boy.”

  She closed the door and raced back to the truck.

  *

  “Who’s your vet?” asked Carrie, climbing into the truck.

  She sounded calmer now. That was good. He needed her to drive safely but fast. Gun was pale and shaky from blood loss.

  “Cherry Lake Veterinary Hospital,” he said. “Head back out toward town, then hang a right on Fourth Avenue. It shouldn’t take more than twenty minutes.”

  He hoped the big dog would hang in there until then.

  She maneuvered the big truck off the yard as easily as she’d driven the CAR. He shouldn’t be surprised; she was a Montana ranch girl, after all. They had skills.

  “How’s he doing back there?” she asked, leaning over the steering wheel to check for traffic.

  “Every time I loosen the tourniquet, he bleeds like a stuck pig.”

  “Gunny, you hang in there, you hear me?” she said over her shoulder. “This is a ten-dollar t-shirt. I better not have ruined it for nothing.”

  Ethan grunted a laugh and almost immediately, his throat tightened up at what she was doing for him. She’d come to him tonight to distract herself from her own problems, maybe even have some fun. Instead, she was playing ambulance driver on a wild ride to save a dog from a bear attack.

  You had to admire her ability to roll with the punches.

  “My cell phone’s in the console,” he said. “I’ll call the clinic, make sure they’re ready for us.”

  “I can do it. You keep the pressure on.”

  She slowed down and pulled to the side of the road but didn’t stop. With one eye on the road and one on the tiny screen, she scrolled through the contacts. “Dr. Morrow?”

  “That’s him.”

  She hit the button and told the receptionist what had happened.

  “They’ll be waiting for us,” she said, tossing the phone onto the passenger s
eat.

  “Using a cell while driving,” he said. “Speeding. Pornography. Is there no end to your evil?”

  “Shut up.” She scowled at him in the rear view mirror.

  “Atta girl.” He felt another laugh bubbling up. Probably stress. “Good for you, you wild thing.”

  She snorted and took a corner fast enough that he had to grab the seat back to stay upright.

  “You know it.”

  “I’ve seen it.”

  “Those photos? That’s just the testosterone talking.”

  “Just working with what I’ve got, ma’am.”

  “Is that it, ahead?”

  Ethan craned his neck to see out the windshield. “Yup. Pull up in front of the main doors.”

  He was relieved to see a pair of assistants waiting for them, with a rolling stainless steel table beside them.

  The truck thumped up onto the parking lot and screeched to a stop. Without turning off the engine, Carrie hopped out and ran around to the side and yanked open his door.

  “We’ll take it from here.” A technician wearing purple scrubs elbowed her out of the way. Lorena, said her name tag. She climbed in and tossed a big, heavy blanket over Gun. With deft, sure movements, she got the dog onto the blanket so they could use it like a stretcher to lift him out.

  It also, he noted, acted as a barrier between them and Gun’s teeth.

  Though the dog was barely responding now.

  “You got him?” said Lorena to her co-worker.

  “Yeah. Let’s go,” said the other girl. “You coming, Mr. Nash?”

  “Go,” said Carrie. She gave him a nudge on the shoulder. “I’ll park the truck and be right behind you.”

  He followed the techs inside, suddenly and surprisingly aware that his shirt was still wrapped around his dog’s leg. And that Carrie’s hand had felt very nice against his bare skin.

  *

  Ethan disappeared around the corner, following his dog and Carrie went outside to where she’d left the truck idling. Quickly, she nosed it into a proper parking spot, then turned off the engine. She intended to go back into the hospital, but her legs refused to move.

  Suddenly her hands were shaking, her arms were shaking, her lips were trembling and she felt tears prickling behind her eyes.