Necessary Force

by D. D. Ayres

  The shock of a wet nose poking her behind the knee jolted her.

  She glanced down as Prince pushed his weight against her leg and stared up at her in question, alert to every nuance of her feelings. Her world righted.

  She wasn’t alone. She had Prince.

  Relief slid through her as she bent and scratched her new pet behind the ears.

  The fairy tales were right. There was a Prince Charming out there for her. He’d arrived in her life the day after she broke up with Eric.

  And like in all fairy tales, he’d come into her life from an unexpected place, the animal shelter, in an unexpected guise, wearing a black mask with black ears, and sporting a thick black and golden doggie pelt.

  They’d bonded immediately. He was extraordinarily attuned to her moods. While she didn’t always trust her own reactions these days, she quickly came to trust Prince’s without question. If he responded to sounds in the night, as he did last night, then she knew it wasn’t just her anxiety. She needed that assurance badly.

  “Good boy.” She rubbed his back a couple of times in affection before straightening up. Prince was the best thing to happen to her, maybe ever. As long as she had him she was safe.

  She picked up her cup and moved to put it in the sink. She hadn’t been able to force herself to return to bed after her night visitor had been chased away. Instead, she’d curled up beneath a throw on the sofa, where she could sleep with one hand on Prince’s back as he lay on the rug beside her, and hold her cell phone in the other in case she needed to call for help. If the sheriff’s office would believe her. The Raleigh police hadn’t.

  The cup rattled hard against the porcelain sink, an indication that the adrenaline-charged anxiety attack had yet to recede. Shame splashed through her at the realization that after all this time, her body could still betray her in this way.

  She should have recognized the signs sooner. From the beginning of their year-long relationship she was often uncomfortable in Eric’s presence. Yet, she’d never told anyone about her uncertainties about him. Life had long ago taught her to doubt herself. Besides, who would believe her? Eric could be outrageously generous and so charming. She was a lowly temp. She was lucky to have attracted the attention of a man with money and good looks, who took her on secret glamorous vacations.

  Yet Eric could go from charming to complete asshole in the time it took to knock back a few tequila shots. Gradually, he became critical of her, avoided her friends, seldom took her out in public after the first few weeks of their relationship. She gave in more and more to his point of view because it was easier than facing his stern disapproval. But there was a deep well of resentment growing inside her she hadn’t realized was there until a few weeks ago. Even she had a limit.

  Rough sex, he’d called it.

  Shay clamped her teeth over her lower lip to stop its trembling.

  She couldn’t quite believe what was happening. Afterwards, she’d locked herself in his bathroom and called the police. That brought the next shock.

  Eric was so quick to confess that he’d gotten a little carried away, and apologized so convincingly, she could tell the police began to doubt her version of deliberate assault. Still, they said they would take her in for testing and she could file charges and take him to court.

  Court. In her fury and outrage, she had forgotten. The last thing she wanted was to go to court where her personal history might be pulled up again for public view. No, her life would be ruined all over again. Mortified, she had recanted her story.

  Shay shivered, recalling her feelings of helplessness and outrage.

  It was the sight of Eric’s smug expression, knowing he was going to get away with what he’d done, that spurred her to blurt out that their relationship was over, right there in front of the two law enforcement officers who could not help her any other way.

  Eric didn’t respond but she saw the cold fury in his expression that no one else seemed to notice. There’d been a promise in his last look, and it terrified her. She knew in her bones that he was going to get even. When she let her guard down. When she stopped worrying. When she was most vulnerable.

  Shay looked out the window above the sink at the morning light reflecting off the silver surface of the lake. Its serenity didn’t calm her this morning.

  Since that night a month ago, she couldn’t shake the panicky feelings of being followed and watched. Anxiety had her running from her own shadow. Checking and rechecking the locks. Glancing repeatedly over her shoulder until her friends became concerned by her increasingly paranoid behavior. One morning she couldn’t even force herself to leave for work until Angie came and got her. Unable to explain the cause of her panic attack, she watched Angie’s sympathy turn into concern for her sanity. Two days ago, she had fled Raleigh, seeking refuge in the one place where Eric wouldn’t know to look for her.

  Yet he had found her.

  Shay closed her eyes and took a deep trembling breath.

  She had known the drill from age fourteen. Self-control, that was the answer, not meds, to conquer her attacks. Time and self-awareness, those were the keys to control. She mustn’t allow small things to get the better of her. She needed to think, be reasonable, and logical. Consider that she was jumping to conclusions.

  She let out her breath as a quiver of apprehension rippled over her skin. She resisted it, forcing herself instead to make a mental list of other possible answers for the presence of her night visitor.

  She was so certain it was Eric. What if she was wrong? The person in the truck outside her cabin could have been anyone: a camper, a hunter, even a Peeping Tom. Besides, Prince had scared whoever it was away. If he came again, she’d call the sheriff’s office. Even if they didn’t believe her, someone would show up.

  Shay breathed in again, slower and steadier.

  Today was Saturday. She must go back to work on Monday. She couldn’t afford to lose her position in a job market that wasn’t exactly overflowing with prospects.

  Get your act together, Shayla Lynn Appleton.

  Shay exhaled, longer and easier this time. She could feel her heart begin to slow. She was going to be fine. She just needed to believe it. Or fake it until she could make it a reality.

  A sharp high-pitched bark made her open her eyes.

  Prince had come into the kitchen and was watching her from the threshold.

  As she walked over to him, his tail began wagging. Then his head swung toward the front door, head cocked as if to listen.

  Shay’s heart skipped as she followed his gaze. Then she spied his leash hung by the door. “Oh, you’re just trying to remind me it’s time for our morning walk.”

  Prince shot forward with a yelp of excitement.

  “Good boy.”

  It was clear that her pet was better trained than she was. He was trying his best to show her what he needed, but she still often misunderstood. Yet he’d acted without her direction last night, knowing instinctively that she was afraid of whatever was out there in the dark. She really did need to get them both to the doggy-training class she’d looked into, and soon. But not a fancy place like that Harmonie Kennels in Virginia that Angie had suggested she call.

  “He’s got the attitude of a professional canine. Maybe he’s, like, a drug dog that’s been retired,” Angie had said after meeting Prince.

  Angie, her one real friend was like that, always seeing extraordinary in the ordinary. Even so, Angie could be very persuasive. She kept mentioning this kennel she’d read about, supposedly the top place in the mid-Atlantic states. So, after arriving at the lake, she’d called just to find out how much training would cost.

  The woman who answered had been much too nosy for Shay’s liking, asking if her shelter dog had any distinguishing markings or ID tag. That’s when it hit her that the woman who had brought Prince to the shelter might not have been entirely honest. If something was amiss, she might lose him. So she had hung up quickly, sorry she’d made the call.

  As Shay came
up behind him, Prince began pawing the door, making little excited whimpering sounds.

  “Fine, but you’ll have to slow your pace this time.” She pulled back the deadbolts, then reached for the doorknob with one hand and his leash with the other. “Yesterday you nearly—. Oh!”

  One moment she and Prince were alone. The next she was staring into the gaze of one very stern-looking man in camo.

  Chapter Two

  “Excuse me, ma’am. I need to talk with you. Now.”

  The man’s tone left no room for debate as his combat-booted foot moved to block any idea Shay might have about closing her door. “Step back into the room and leave your hands where I can see them.”

  “What?” Shay stared stupidly at her assailant. She should be terrified but in some distant place the situation hadn’t caught up with her head. Not when Prince had rushed forward and was jumping and yipping and play-pawing her attacker’s arm as if this was some sort of game.

  Finally, she said the only thing that came to mind. “Prince, down!”

  To her surprise, the dog paused and looked at her. “Heel,” she commanded and pointed at a spot on the floor beside her right leg.

  Prince moved dutifully over to her side and sat down, heavy tail thumbing out a staccato rhythm of high spirits. She gripped a handful of his fur, just behind the collar, feeling the warmth of the animal as proof they were okay. This was another of Eric’s sick campaigns to frighten her, she told herself. Like the night before. Only this time she’d had enough. Hiring a thug to scare her was one step too far, even for him.

  All the anger of the night before came roaring back as she looked up into the scowling face of the man accosting her.

  “Who the fuck do you think you are, scaring my dog like that?”

  The man’s gaze flickered, as if taken aback by her language. But that surprise didn’t modulate his voice. “Move back into the room.”

  Shay bit her lip, the delayed reaction of surprise beginning to pump up her heart rate. A bit from an article about self-defense popped up in her thoughts. Never let an assailant take you to a secluded place. Her cabin was as secluded as it got.

  Shay folded her arms across her chest, tucking her hands into the folds of her elbows so he couldn’t see that they were shaking. “This is my property and I haven’t invited you in. You’re trespassing.”

  A smile spread beneath the shadow of his hat brim but it was nothing like friendly. “I wouldn’t be worried about my actions when yours are about to land you time in jail.”

  Shay slowly lowered her arms as she felt surreptitiously for the cell phone she kept hooked in her waistband for easy access.

  His smile vanished. “What are you doing?”

  She stilled. “Trying to scratch an itch. You make me nervous.”

  “Put your hands where I can see them and back up!” His voice had an edge that could cut stone. “Now!”

  Though she was determined to hold her ground, when he produced a rifle and held it crosswise before him as if he might swing the butt of it at her head, Shay found herself propelled backwards in spite of herself.

  The man came through the door and slammed it shut with a kick of his boot.

  Until this moment, she’d thought herself frightened. Now the sick wash of fear roiling up through her stomach gave her a sense of what true terror felt like.

  A little hiccup of fear escaped as she bumped up against Prince, who had positioned himself behind her. What was the command for attack? Why didn’t she know it? Didn’t Prince realize what was happening? He hadn’t required any prodding to go after the trucker lurking in woods the night before. She had to do something.

  Her shoulders slumped forward, her arms tightening against her waist, as if her stomach hurt. Her voice was subdued when she spoke. “What do you want?”

  All the fight seemed to go out of the woman before James. His gaze did a quick perimeter search of the room before it came back to her. She was standing with her eyes downcast.

  He lowered his rifle. “I’m going to ask you a few questions. You’d better give me all the right answers. Do you understand me?”

  The woman merely nodded. He took her by the chin and raised her face to his. “Do you understand me?”

  “Yes.” It was a whisper of a reply. Terrified eyes gazed up at him, eyes as golden brown as the morning autumn forest he’d just stepped out of. He felt like a bully staring into them, but dammit, she deserved no pity. She had started this mess by kidnapping his dog.

  He released her. “Is there anyone else here with you?”

  She looked sideways, as if accessing her options, then shook her head.

  “Good answer. It better be truthful. Are there other dogs on the premises?”

  Suddenly, she pulled her hands from their tucked position and began yelling into her cell phone. “Help! Help! He’s got a gun!”

  “Fuck!” He dropped his rifle and grabbed her from behind as she tried to get away. Bogart took this as his cue to once again join in the fray, and began jumping and barking in unbridled joy.

  “Brouza hund! Platz!” James’s drill sergeant tone caused the dog to obey instantly. He moved several feet away from the pair and dropped into a submissive crouch. Too bad the woman in his arms wasn’t so easily mastered.

  He had dropped a hand over her mouth to stop the shouting but she continued to kick and twist, rubbing her body against his in ways that made him register that she was young and in good shape, and smelled like the kind of fresh-brewed coffee he’d give his left nut to have a cup of right now, after having spent the night in the woods.

  For his peace of mind and, before she hurt herself, he overwhelmed her protest by scooping her up off the floor with an arm about her middle. “Settle down, dammit, or I’ll cuff your hands and feet. Do you understand?”

  She stilled but didn’t respond. But of course, he realized, she couldn’t speak with his hand over her mouth. He lifted it.

  She sank her teeth into the meaty edge of his hand. As he released her, she twisted and lifted her knee in a quick jab to his groin.

  If he hadn’t been a police officer she might have caught him off-guard, but he was accustomed to dealing with suspects. The bite hurt but her knee bounced harmlessly off the thigh he lifted to deflect her jab. He did lose his hat as she swung a slap in his direction before dancing away.

  The hellcat palmed her phone and began jabbing numbers into it.

  “Shit! Give me that!” He jerked the phone from her hand.

  Shay stumbled back out of his reach but lifted her chin in triumph. “Too late! I’ve already called 911 once. You’d better leave. The police will be here any minute.”

  “Damn it, lady! I am the police!”

  As his roar of rage died away, James glanced at her phone. Sure enough, she’d dialed the emergency number. He ended the call and tucked it in his pocket. He had to give her credit. She had balls.

  He swiveled his head in her direction. For the first time she came into focus as a person, and it was a revelation. She was about five six, with a thick mahogany ponytail skewed to one side in their struggle. Thick dark bangs framed her eyes, appearing darker than before and narrowed in calculation. But to be honest, he was more interested in the fact that her hoodie had come unzipped and it was spectacularly obvious that she wasn’t wearing a bra.

  She followed his pointed gaze to where the vee of her jacket had widened to the waist and the globes of her breasts were trembling with the heated rise and fall of her breath.

  “Pervert!” She jerked her zipper up, her cheeks coloring with emotion, anger or embarrassment, he couldn’t tell. The zipper didn’t budge. Cussing under her breath, she yanked again, and then a third time before it moved, locking the plastic teeth back together all the way up to her chin.

  James stood staring at her a moment longer, wondering whether she’d yanked open her jacket to distract him or if it was just an accident. Either way, he was distracted. None of this had gone the way he’d expected.

/>   He glanced over at his long-lost partner to help him regain his balance. Bogart sat up and looked back at him with a slack-jaw, lolling-tongue expression that looked for all the world like a big fat grin.

  James’s attention switched back to the woman. She had recovered her composure with surprising speed. But her expression caught him totally off-guard. She wasn’t just angry; she was dead furious and ready to do battle.

  He watched her judge the distance between herself and the door and then between herself and him, before she spoke. “You say you’re police? I want to see some ID. Now.”

  He reached into his jacket for his badge and then held it out toward her. “Charlotte-Mecklenburg Police Department, Special Operations Division.”

  Shay glanced at the shiny badge and then up into his face. If she’d been asked before this moment what her attacker looked like, all she could have described was a very angry male in camouflage clothing with a rifle.

  Now she needed a whole new vocabulary.

  He was young, maybe not even thirty, and tall. And he was gorgeous. He had that old-fashioned handsomeness with a broad brow and strong jaw, baby blues, spiky short dark hair, and the kind of mouth that made bad boys so irresistible. Not that it made any difference. So what if his muscular shoulders and tapered hips gave him the look of an Abercrombie and Fitch model? He had attacked her. In her home.

  Shay tore her gaze away. Stop staring. Where was her sanity?

  She drew herself up and found a safe place halfway between his chin and his belt buckle to stare at. “Why the hell would you break in here like that?”

  “You’re in possession of a canine belonging to Charlotte-Mecklenburg law enforcement.”

  Shay’s gaze jerked up to his face. Even his scowl was, well, damn sexy, now that she didn’t feel her life was in danger. Then understanding dawned.

  She moved quickly over to stand by her pet. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. This is my dog, Prince.”

  “The hell he is! That’s my dog, Bogart.”

  Both turned to gaze at the dog who had been silently watching them. The K-9 barked twice, thumping his tale in good spirits, but didn’t move an inch.