Rival Forces

by D. D. Ayres

Kye pulled his weapon a second time. With all his old habits in full military police mode, he moved forward deliberately toward his planned destination.

  He moved only a few yards forward before he saw the vehicle. He wouldn’t have known it was there if he hadn’t been searching for it. It was big all-terrain truck but painted flat black so that no light bounced off it. No shiny surfaces. Even the lights must have been coated with Veil. These men were hard-core.

  He moved into the shadow on the other side of the truck as the men began topping the slope onto the road. He could barely see them. In the diffuse light they looked more like twin golems crawling out of a place in Middle Earth.

  Kye waited, heart hammering in a thick steady cadence for the moment when both armed men would be most vulnerable.

  Purdy came first. Kye recognized him by his voice.

  “Boost the package. Higher. Fuck.” When Gunnar’s head appeared over the edge of the ridge, Purdy bent to drag the man up onto the road by his armpits.

  Kye stepped out from behind the truck, keeping the hood between him and his prey. Gun double-fisted for accuracy. “Hold it right there, Purdy.”

  “Shit.” Purdy dropped Gunnar like a hot potato and went for his gun. Of course, Purdy couldn’t see that he held a gun.

  “Don’t move. I’m armed.”

  “I am, too, you son of a bitch.” The dull gleam of a barrel appeared in Purdy’s hand, aiming downward. “Move and I’ll blow the doctor’s head off.”

  “That won’t save you.”

  The crunch of someone coming toward them jerked both of their attention toward the road in front of them.

  As crazy as it seemed, all Kye could think of as an explanation was that Yardley had somehow—impossibly—found them.

  He yelled a warning and raised his gun to fire just as light exploded from the end of Purdy’s pistol. Only then did he hear it. The low grinding growl of a wolf who’d found its prey. A streak of something dark gray crossed his vision at chest level and then Purdy screamed and fell over backward.

  A second shot went off as Purdy screamed. Oleg had made his bite. Kye didn’t have to worry about him letting go. The Czech wolfdog was trained to hold until further notice. By the sounds of savage snarling, he was good for the duration.

  “Fuck this.” By the sounds of it, the man who hadn’t made it onto the road began to climb back down. But he must have lost his footing. Kye heard a cry and then the man was cursing and thrashing as he backslid down the slope.

  Kye jerked open the truck door and turned on the brights and then laid on the horn. Now the FBI would be a good idea. Along with whatever was arriving as a caravan below with sirens and lights going.

  * * *

  Kye leaned against the intruder’s truck, the area around it lit up like a movie stage set with law enforcement lighting, as he waited his turn to be looked after. Local, state, and federal agencies were now all involved. Purdy’s partner had been picked up by the sheriff’s deputies and taken into custody. But FBI agent Jackson was giving the sheriff an earful about jurisdiction.

  Purdy was dead. Oleg had caught him high on the shoulder at the neck, fangs sinking in and tearing the jugular. Kye knew that hadn’t been intentional but the canine was trying to take down a danger to someone he thought he should protect. Only later had he learned Yard had been on the road several yards behind the dog.

  His heart knocked against his ribs as he realized she might have been shot instead.

  He glanced at her. Her face pale and tight in the glare of the lights as she hugged herself and hovered over the EMTs working on Gunnar. It seems his abductors had drugged him with an injection to make him unconscious so that carrying him would be simpler. But he’d lost additional blood in the rough treatment and the EMTs were talking in low tones about the wet sounds on one side of his chest. A possible broken rib puncturing a lung.

  He wanted to go and put his arms around Yardley and tell her everything was going to be okay. The worst was over. It would be better in the morning, and better still the day after. But something held him back. And it was more than the way she gazed at Gunnar, bending down to grasp his hand when an EMT moved aside.

  He had yet to tell her that he was pretty sure not all the blood on Purdy was his own. The man had fired two shots at close range. The likelihood that Oleg had taken one of them was high. That could explain why the K-9 had run away as soon as Yard had called him off. Instead of returning to her side as he’d been taught, he’d run back into the dark from which he’d come like a feral creature.

  Kye was only waiting for a chance to slip away and look for him.

  That chance seemed to arrive when the first of three ambulances appeared on the utility road. One for Purdy’s body. One for the FBI agent who, unbeknownst to them, had been monitoring the house for Agent Jackson. He’d been shot attempting to stop Purdy’s partner from breaking into Yard’s house. He’d lost a lot of blood but he’d been able to call for help.

  The first wagon was for Gunnar, who would be transported to a nearby hospital. However, Agent Jackson had already made it clear that Gunnar was under his protection as a federal witness and he would be transported to D.C. as soon as he was stable enough.

  As they loaded Gunnar into the ambulance, Yardley suddenly seemed to remember Kye was alive. She came toward him slowly, looking like a kid in his coat. It swallowed her figure and hung over her fingertips. She looked so young and vulnerable. He wanted to wrap her up in his arms and carry her away to where it was warm and quiet and very safe.

  But he wouldn’t. She was going with Gunnar.

  She walked right up to him, so close he began to straighten from his slouch, and then she was plowing into him, her face going against his neck and burrowing there.

  His arms came up about her. His SAR parka kept him from feeling any part of the woman beneath. It was enough she was leaning fully into him, her chill cheek on his even colder chest. Someone had tossed him a blanket that he’d put around his shoulders. But from the moment Yardley touched him, he burst into a blazing inferno inside.

  Those around them seemed to understand it was a moment more private than most, and discreetly turned their backs and went on with their work.

  Finally she lifted her head, but only so that her lips were turned up to his ear. “I thought, when I heard the shots, that you were dead. And David…” She seemed to run out of breath.

  “I know.” He pressed her tighter to his body. “Didn’t I promise you I’d take care of you? And him.”

  “But I didn’t want you to die doing it.” She lifted a hand and pounded her fist against his chest. “You idiot! You left me.” She was so weak the pounding was more like pats.

  He lifted her chin and smiled at her. “You can beat me up later. I promise. I won’t hit back.” Beyond her shoulder he saw the EMT signal that the wagon was ready to roll. “You need to go with David. I’ll catch up when I can.”

  She tried to smile at him but the muscles in her face wouldn’t seem to work. “You … you sure you’re okay? Your skin’s like ice. And your poor nose.”

  “Yeah. Well, I was too pretty for my own good anyway. Now I’ll just be an average Joe.”

  “Liar.” This time the smile made it onto her face. “You’ll always be a beautiful man. The doctors will make you better than ever.”

  He began releasing her. “The EMTs need you to go now.”

  She nodded and reluctantly turned away.

  “Wait.” She turned back. “How did you get up here so fast?”

  Yardley blew out her breath. “There are steps cut into the slope behind the kennel. Dad made some SEALs do it for him as an exercise in cooperation. I think he just took advantage of their willingness to do anything to gain his approval.”

  He would have done it by himself, to gain her approval. Hell, he’d climbed a hill in the snow in his undershirt for her. Pretty impressive. But he didn’t say any of that. She was in love with another man.

  She turned away only to spin back
once more. “Here. You need this.”

  She unzipped his coat and slipped it off to hand it to him. “I can’t believe you’ve been out here dressed like that.”

  Kye smiled. “Why? Are you cold?”

  He waited until the ambulance pulled out and then approached the sheriff. “Can I borrow a high-beam flashlight and a FLIR? If you’ve got one.”

  “Sure. But why?”

  “Ms. Summers’s K-9, Oleg. Purdy fired on him at close range. He’s disappeared and I’m pretty sure he was hit.”

  “Wait. I’ll go with you.”

  Kye nodded. “I’ll need to go back to the house first. I need a few things, and my K-9, Lily. She’s search-and-rescue-trained and will be able to track him faster in the snow than I can.”

  “And get yourself some clothes, son. This ain’t Florida.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Sheriff Wiley and one of his deputies who ran his hunting dog as a retriever agreed to help Kye search. First he had to go back to the house, pick up Oleg’s muzzle and leash and a blanket he thought Yardley wouldn’t mind him borrowing. And, of course, Lily.

  He’d found her curled up on the bed he’d slept in the night before. Well, pieces of it. She had chewed up both pillows and the comforter, so that the room look like it had exploded. And then she’d had a go at a corner of the mattress itself. He couldn’t blame her. Shut up all evening and half the night with strangers coming and going and gunshots. The bedroom looked like he probably felt if he had time to think about it, which he didn’t.

  She launched herself at him when he came in, yipping and screaming in joy. He took a few minutes to play with her. Letting her tug on one end of a sock and then giving her several treats as she performed tricks they usually practiced daily. It seemed to quiet her. The only strange thing about all this was that it was done by flashlight.

  The sheriff told him he’d see to it that someone came out to check on the generator in the morning. After all, it would be Monday, the first working day of the new year. Until then, Kye would need to find a motel room. After he found Oleg. And after he visited the hospital to check on David and Yardley. He hoped he would be able to give her good news.

  Once satisfied that Lily was calm and ready to work, Kye moved quickly through the warmth of the house’s interior. Even in the dark, the captured heat within the house was beginning to thaw out his fingers and toes, making them tingle painfully as he quickly exchanged his soggy pants for jeans. There was nothing for him to change out of his undershirt into so he simply zipped his parka over it. He had to go back out into the cold so there was no real use in warming up. Except for the thermos of coffee that appeared in his hand.

  The sheriff’s wife had arrived, thinking that Yardley might need a woman’s help. She’d even come prepared with sandwiches for her husband’s officers.

  Kye swallowed a ham sandwich in a few bites, amazed at how hungry he was. But it was eaten on the move. He had to get back out there and find Oleg before his injuries and the cold claimed him.

  The sheriff drove them back to the site where other law enforcement officers were still gathering evidence on the utility road. A man had died. There’d been an attempted kidnapping of a federal witness. A home had been invaded. Shots had been fired. There would be many inquiries into the events of the night.

  The searchers came to quick agreement. Lily would lead the search. Everyone, even the deputy’s dog, would stay behind her so as not to confuse the scent.

  Kye carried her off onto a snowy area in front of the truck. The wind direction wouldn’t be a problem since they were up in the trees. The snow, at last, had petered out. Only problem, the woodlands here were heavily evergreen. Their pungent oily scent might cover Oleg’s.

  But Lily was game, prancing around on the snow-covered ground as she had done on the ski slopes of Utah.

  Kye bent down and rubbed her chest to get her into search mode. “Good girl, Lily. Good girl.” He held the muzzle that belonged to Oleg under her nose so that Lily could catch the Czech wolfdog’s scent. Then he took it away, unleashed her, and stood up. “Search. Oleg. Search!”

  The toller immediately began sniffing the air. Moving in ever-increasing circles, under the arc of lights she suddenly paused, barked excitedly, and ran forward down the road.

  “Go!” Kye followed Lily, who was doing some heavy air sniffing as they went along. It was but a few seconds before the deputy’s hound seemed to catch a scent, too. The dog raced forward, straining at the end of his handler’s long search leash.

  They quickly went off road, up an incline, and into the woods. Kye could hear Lily moving ahead of them. The sky was clear now but the winter woods were murky. Only the flash of Lily’s bright-red coat when she crossed the light thrown by his flashlight offered a vivid contrast with the bare branches of oak and chestnut and the blue-green density of evergreens.

  Every few minutes, Lily would stop and do what he called her wave motion, moving her head up and down, trying to find the scent on an air current to keep them moving forward. Once enclosed in woods, scents often became misdirected. Cool weather kept scents from rising from the ground.

  For ten minutes, they moved between field and tree stands, heading east and then south, deeper into the woods without a track. Kye kept his gaze forward, watching Lily’s back though she was anywhere from ten to fifteen yards ahead of him. It was clear she was in her element, tracking and glorying in the chase. Once in a while she glanced back at him.

  He was just about to call Yardley when Lily stopped dead. She sniffed twice. Snorting and backpedaling, she began yipping excitedly and then running in circles, sneezing and yipping.

  “What’s that mean?” The sheriff had come up behind them.

  “She’s found something. Stay back.” He was very much concerned that Lily had caught the scent of death.

  With a heavy stroking heart, he moved forward. When he was within ten feet of Lily, he withdrew the FLIR. It was a forward-looking infrared device that would allow him to see variances in heat. Every living thing gave off heat. He hadn’t wanted to use it while there was a chance he could scan a raccoon or other wild creature. Now he aimed it in the area where Lily was dancing in concern. It registered two signatures, Lily’s the brighter of the two.

  “Found him. Stay back.”

  “Heel.” Lily came bounding toward him, thrilled to get the chew toy Kye pulled out as reward. He snapped on the leash and handed the end of it to the sheriff.

  He turned and approached the injured dog slowly. Oleg was lying on his side and did not even lift his head as Kye approached. He was hurt and in pain.

  Kye used his flashlight to guide him but held the beam off the dog’s face so that it didn’t blind the canine.

  “Hey here, big fella. Hey, Oleg. You’ve had a big night, haven’t you?”

  Oleg roused himself to lift his head but whined and lay back down.

  Kye got down on his knees. An injured dog was often a frightened one and he didn’t want to get bit if he could help it. “It’s okay, Oleg. Good boy. You saved lives tonight. Yes you did. You deserve a medal.” Kye wished he knew some Czech phrases but he hoped his tone would convey his intentions.

  “Need to get you out of here, Oleg. Going to put the muzzle on you.” He held it out so that Oleg could sniff it. After a moment, the dog did just that. He bared his teeth but did not try to bite it.

  “I know. I’d hate it, too, if I were you. But it’s okay. Just a precaution.”

  When Oleg lifted his head again, Kye slipped the wire basket over his snout. When Oleg didn’t react, Kye quickly slipped the straps into place and buckled it.

  Using the blanket he’d brought with him, he scooped up the Czech wolfdog. He wasn’t surprised by the dog’s sudden growl of warning or even when he tried to snap at him. He felt the dampness of his fur wasn’t all from the snowy ground.

  Once he held him in his arms, he turned to the sheriff. “Let’s go. Can someone call ahead to wake a vet?”
/>   CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  April, Harmonie Kennels

  “Hier. Storm. Thunder.”

  The pair of four-month-old Belgian Malinoises, born on New Year’s Eve, came running on Yardley’s command. They were rangy and lean, like a pair of teenagers. Of the six, Yardley had determined that these two had the most drive and intelligence for law enforcement work. Taggart, her senior trainer, had chosen two of the others. The final two had been adopted by law enforcement personnel looking for companions for their working K-9s.

  “Sitz.” They dropped butt, all rapt attention as two pairs of serious intelligent dark eyes in black-masked faces gazed adoringly up at her. Their ears stood tall and wide, revolving like satellite dishes. Too big for their heads now, but the dogs would grow into them.

  Smiling, Yardley waved the ball launcher, a long plastic wand with a tennis ball attached at the end, under their noses. And then she began walking. “Hier.”

  Eager to earn the ball, they followed her, watching the ball’s every movement as she made slow sweeps through the air. As she passed a picnic table she raised the wand up so that the ball traveled over the top. “Hopp.”

  Both puppies jumped up on the table, eager to follow the reward they knew would come at the end of the game. Much of early training for potential K-9s was about helping the pups overcome natural fears of leaping, balancing on unfamiliar surfaces, and hesitations with new things so that they gained the confidence to try new things if their handler was telling them to do something. Practicing balance and agility gave them both. Soon they would learn to go into dark places, climb ladders, and force entry through a doorway. But for today, they were building muscle memory and getting exercise.

  As she moved on, they leaped off the table after her, their natural athleticism showing in their fearlessness launching themselves from the height. She jogged quickly over to the wooden railing of the deck attached to the classroom building. As she lifted the ball wand up, Storm and Thunder jumped for the narrow railing on top. Storm made the leap easily. Thunder had to scramble a bit to keep his footing. Encouraged by the moving ball, they stepped cautiously along the two-by-four, like tightrope walkers on a high wire. Yet they both jumped off this higher perch without hesitation.