“Grace,” Sean said. “I told you I didn’t need extra help.”
His K-9 released the leash from her mouth, and it was easy enough to loosen until Ivy stood straight.
“What did you mean by that?” she asked.
“I suspect Grace is trying to help me find a way to say I love you. That I love you both.” He kissed the top of Dylan’s head. “I love you and...” His throat went dry as he looked Ivy directly in the face. Her eyes misted, and he forged on before he lost his nerve, before she could let him down without hearing him out. “I love you, Ivy. And I know I’m asking a lot, but if you’re willing to give me a second chance, I’d like to take some foster classes and adopt Dylan and Sky with you. I’d like to do life as a team and—”
She placed a hand on the side of his face, her fingertips alone making his heart race. She searched his eyes and lifted her chin until their lips were only an inch apart. “I love you, too. With my whole heart.” He pressed his mouth to hers, soft and sure. She released the sweetest of sighs and straightened, her face radiant. Sean’s chest felt like it was going to explode. Dylan patted Sean’s head, laughing, yet trying to peer below Ivy’s arms.
Her eyes twinkled. “How do we get out of this?”
Sean twisted to look down. Grace was pressed against their right side, and Sky was pressed against their left side. “I think this is what is known as a group hug.”
Ivy tilted her head back and laughed. Sean pointed to the car. Grace stood and ran off. With a few well-timed lifts of his feet, Sky’s leash was loosened from around their legs, and she ran after Grace. Sean held Ivy’s hand and walked back to the car. His heart had never been so full.
EPILOGUE
Two weeks later
Someone was downstairs. Sky’s warbled voice alerted her before the security alert beeped. She was all packed and ready, though. Ivy picked up Dylan and eagerly opened the apartment door to find Sean on the stairs.
“I’ve already loaded everything you’ve asked for from the bunker. You packed up here?”
“Should only take a load or two. All the furniture stays for my replacement.”
Sean nodded and picked up two suitcases. She followed him down the stairs and outside, where a small trailer waited. She peered in to find the pack-and-play crib and toys she usually kept at Minnie’s already loaded. “We should have plenty of time to get it to the dock. My friend who transports cars here says this will all be in Anchorage within a week.”
She tilted her head into the sky and looked out toward the back, where the musk oxen grazed. “It smells like snow.”
Dylan reached for Sean and he eagerly accepted.
“Doggy and Dada.” Dylan said each word with a nod on each syllable, as if introducing Sean and the dogs to Ivy for the first time.
Sean kissed the top of his head. “Not quite yet, little man, but soon. Hopefully very soon.”
She laughed, her eyes sparking with joy for what felt like the millionth time. Foster transfer papers had been approved, along with Sean’s intent-to-adopt papers, as well. He had already started attending classes a week ago. Thankfully, they allowed him to attend a couple of classes virtually while out on location. And since the Alaska K-9 Unit had added Ian McCaffrey and his German shepherd, Aurora, a cadaver dog, Sean had someone to share on-call duty with. Ivy could scarcely believe it was happening.
“I realized something, though,” Sean said to Dylan. “I’ve forgotten one key thing before I move you and your mom.”
She racked her brain about what they might’ve forgotten. They’d tried to talk every night while Sean was back in Anchorage, and she’d made list upon list of what they needed. Sean pulled his harmonica out of his shirt pocket. Grace trotted to his side and Sky plopped beside her. Ivy couldn’t help but laugh. “Another round of ‘Twinkle, Twinkle’ before we go?”
He began playing the worst rendition of “Here Comes the Bride” she’d ever heard. He swayed with Dylan, who was situated to face her in Sean’s left arm. Her baby boy patted Sean’s forearm as if it were a set of drums. Grace walked around Sean twice and Sky followed her.
On Sean’s final note, Grace and Sky both warbled a horrible off-tune finishing howl. Ivy clapped and Sean’s face sobered. He bent over and set Dylan down on a small patch of grass nearest the building. “One second, little man. I need to ask your mom a question. Ivy, I know we’ve talked about this, but I want to ask properly.” He sank to one knee and lifted his face up to Ivy. “Will you marry me—again?”
Her breath caught. “I will.”
He stood and reached for her, his hands on her waist, pulling her close. Her fingers slipped behind his neck. He searched her eyes, as if wanting to see proof that they were in agreement. She grinned and met him halfway. Their lips touched. She pulled him closer, reveling in the kiss as peace flowed from her head to her toes. Even though they were moving to a different town, being with Sean was like returning home. Dylan’s hands found their pant legs. They broke apart to find him grinning up at them with the surety of a child who knew his parents loved him and each other. Grace and Sky stood, wagging their tails. Then Sean swooped down and picked Dylan up for a group hug as the fat snowflakes, promising hints of a beautiful arctic winter, floated down from the clouds above.
* * *
Look for the next book in the Alaska K-9 Unit series, Yukon Justice by Dana Mentink.
Alaska K-9 Unit
These state troopers fight for justice with the help of their brave canine partners.
Alaskan Rescue by Terri Reed
Wilderness Defender by Maggie K. Black
Undercover Mission by Sharon Dunn
Tracking Stolen Secrets by Laura Scott
Deadly Cargo by Jodie Bailey
Arctic Witness by Heather Woodhaven
Yukon Justice by Dana Mentink
Blizzard Showdown by Shirlee McCoy
Christmas K-9 Protectors by Lenora Worth and Maggie K. Black
Keep reading for an excerpt from Mountain Fugitive by Lynette Eason.
Dear Reader,
Thank you for continuing the journey with the Alaska K-9 Unit. The other authors and I have exchanged hundreds of emails trying to get each other’s characters right. I think the teamwork required in writing this series also helps us imagine the camaraderie our characters have with each other, too. I’ve come to love this K-9 team and catch myself thinking of them and wondering how they’re doing.
While I’ve never been to Nome, Alaska, I’ve learned so much about this very unique place. Everyone who has agreed to speak to me expressed the wonder of living in Alaska, and I hope I’ve been able to capture at least a hint of what it’s like to live in the Last Frontier.
My daughter’s dogs, Peyton and Moon, have kept me company during the writing process, so Grace and Sky share some elements of their personalities. And, as I live with a family of musicians, the pups definitely love to “sing” along. As such, I’ve requested noise-canceling headphones for Christmas. Ha! Seriously, I hope you’ve enjoyed Sean and Ivy’s journey to second chances.
Blessings,
Heather Woodhaven
WE HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS BOOK FROM
Courage. Danger. Faith.
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Mountain Fugitive
by Lynette Eason
ONE
When the gunshot rang out, Dr. Katherine Gilroy pulled her horse to a stop and waited for her friend Isabelle McGee to catch up. “What do you think that’s all about?” Katherine asked.
Isabelle and her husband, Mac, owned the property that stretched for acres—as well as the horse named Hotshot now stomping the ground. He hated loud noises. Katherine didn’t blame him.
“No idea,” Isabelle said. “Maybe Cod
y Ray came across a rattler or something—but I really doubt that, since he didn’t say anything about working in this area today.”
Cody Ray was one of the hands for the ranch and was often out on the land checking fences or moving cattle. But this was a Saturday morning, and Katherine knew Cody Ray usually saved those chores for the workweek.
Two more quick shots raised Isabelle’s brows.
Katherine frowned. “That sounds more like an or something than a rattler.”
“And Cody Ray wouldn’t need more than one bullet to take care of a snake—or any other wild animal.”
Hotshot pranced and stomped his back feet. Katherine tightened her knees then kicked her heels against his side to get him moving again. Isabelle’s paint fell into step beside her. “It’s kind of hard to tell,” Katherine said, “but I think it came from behind those trees. Someone might be in trouble and signaling for help.”
“Of course this would happen while Mac’s out of town,” Isabelle muttered with a frown. Mac had taken several horses to an auction in Tryon, North Carolina, and wouldn’t be back until late the next day. Isabelle rubbed her nose. “What do you think? Should I call 911?”
“Why don’t we see what’s going on first?”
“Okay.”
Katherine guided her horse in the direction of the shots. Maybe riding toward them was stupid, but if someone needed help, she had the training to offer it.
They followed the path to the ridge where the trees thickened and the underbrush did its best to obscure the way. Hotshot continued his restless dance, shaking his head and making Katherine work to keep her seat. She was an experienced horsewoman and Hotshot needed the exercise, but if someone continued shooting, keeping control of the animal was going to require all her skill.
She led the way, her heart pounding a little faster, mentally reviewing the steps she’d take to treat a gunshot wound with the limited supplies she carried in the saddlebag. A first-aid kit with bandages, snakebite antivenin, a tourniquet, pain meds and antibiotic ointment. Not the ideal situation, but she could work with it.
They crested the hill and stopped just as the white sky released the first few snowflakes of the season. Isabelle pointed. “There, by the tree line. Two people on the ground.”
“Call for help,” Katherine said, “I’ll see if they’re still alive.”
Isabelle gaped. “There’s a shooter out there.”
“I know. And your kids are at the house alone. Go. Hurry.” Isabelle and Mac had a house full of kids—two new foster children and three of their own they’d adopted last year. The oldest was sixteen. Fully capable of caring for the younger ones on a normal day. A shooter on the property changed everything.
Katherine could tell Isabelle wanted to offer more protests, but if the men had been shot, they might still be alive. And in the case of gunshot wounds, quick action was often the difference between life and death.
“You’re a doctor, Katherine,” Isabelle said, “not a soldier or a cop.”
But, as a former tactical medic, she had the training to take care of this and they both new it. Katherine had worked closely with a SWAT team, providing medical care when necessary. She’d saved many lives that hadn’t been able to wait on traditional EMS. Katherine narrowed her eyes while Isabelle bit her lip and pulled out her phone.
She dialed 911, but said to Katherine, “I’ll call Cody Ray and ask him to—no, I forgot, he’s in town and Ms. Sybil is with him. Zoe took Sadie to the doctor for a checkup. So, whoever’s shooting isn’t anyone connected to the ranch.” Ms. Sybil was cook, housekeeper and part-time babysitter rolled into one. Zoe was a former foster child turned single mother living with Isabelle and Mac while she figured out her next steps in life.
“Which means you need to go back there and be with the kids,” Katherine said. “I’ll be fine.” She held still and listened for a fraction longer. “I don’t hear any more shots. Whoever was shooting probably thinks his job is done and hightailed it out of here.” Hopefully. “But just to be on the safe side, you need to go now.”
“I can tell by the look on your face you’re going to go check on them.”
“Just like you would do if you didn’t have kids at the house.”
“I know. Just be careful, and I’ll let Creed and the others know they need to get a move on.”
“Of course.” Katherine kicked Hotshot into a trot, then a full gallop, as she headed for the men, praying she could do something to help them. She wasn’t nearly as confident as she’d conveyed to Isabelle, but she couldn’t let those men bleed out if she could do something about it. “Please, God, don’t let me get shot,” she muttered, “and please let them be alive.” Flashbacks from her paramedic days tickled the edges of her mind and it was all she could do to keep the memories at bay.
The shots had come from her right, so she leaned against the left side of the horse’s mane, trying to make herself as small a target as possible. The men had been ambushed and lay next to the tree line. She guessed they’d started running for cover at the first shot. One was about six feet ahead of the other, more under the cover of the trees.
Heart pounding a rapid beat, Katherine pulled Hotshot to a stop between the men and the direction the bullets had come from, praying the person wouldn’t shoot the horse. She slid from the saddle, leaving the reins trailing the ground, then snagged the first-aid kit from the saddlebag. US marshals according to the vests the men wore.
Looked like their prisoner or fugitive had turned the tables on them. Which meant the person was either gone now that he’d taken care of the threat—or she was now a target because she planned to try to help the men. A quick scan of the area didn’t reveal anything unusual or worrisome, but the trees could easily be hiding the sniper.
Still using the horse as a shield, she hurried to the man closest to her. The bullet had hit him just above his left ear and he’d landed on his side. His brown, sightless eyes stared up at her and she knew he was beyond help. She checked his pulse anyway and got what she expected. Nothing.
She closed the dead man’s eyes then turned her attention to the other one. A pulse. She focused on his head. A gash just below his hairline bled freely. A low groan rumbled from him and Katherine placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t move,” she said.
He blinked and she caught a glimpse of sapphire-blue eyes. He let out another groan. “Carl...”
“Just stay still and let me look at your head.”
“I’m fine.” He rolled to his side and he squinted up at her. “Who’re you?”
“I’m Dr. Katherine Gilroy so I think I’m the better judge of whether or not you’re fine. You have a head wound which means possible concussion.” She reached for him. “What’s your name?”
He pushed her hand away. “Dominic O’Ryan. A branch caught me. Knocked me loopy for a few seconds, but not out. We were running from the shooter.” His eyes sharpened. “He’s still out there.” His hand went to his right hip, gripping the empty holster next to the badge on his belt. A star within a circle. “Where’s my gun? Where’s Carl? My partner, Carl Manning. We need to get out of here.”
“I’m sorry,” Katherine said, her voice soft. “He didn’t make it.”
He froze. Then horror sent his eyes wide—and searching. They found the man behind her and Dominic shuddered. “No. No, no, no. Carl! Carl!” He army crawled to his partner and sucked in a gasping breath, cupped Carl’s face and felt for a pulse.
Katherine didn’t bother to tell him she’d already done the same—or what he’d find. After a few seconds, he let out a low cry then sucked in another deep breath and composed his features. The intense moment has lasted only a few seconds, but Katherine knew he was compartmentalizing, stuffing his emotions into a place he could hold them and deal with them later.
She knew because she’d often done the same thing. Still did on occasion.
&nbs
p; In spite of that, his grief was palpable, and Katherine’s heart thudded with sympathy for him. She moved back to give him some privacy, her eyes sweeping the hills around them once more. Again, she saw nothing, but the hairs on the back of her neck were standing straight up. Hotshot had done well, standing still, being a buffer between them and a possible sniper, but Katherine’s nerves were twitching—much like when she’d worked with the police department. “I think we need to find some better cover.”
As if to prove her point, another crack sounded, and Hotshot reared. His whinnying scream echoed around them. Then he bolted for home. Katherine grabbed the first-aid kit with one hand and pulled Dominic to his feet with the other. “Run!”
* * *
Dominic wasn’t sure he could stand, much less run, but he staggered after her, letting her pull him behind her. They pushed farther into the trees seconds before another bullet whipped past his head and buried itself into the thick trunk of the tree he’d just ducked behind.
“Who’s shooting at you?” she asked, huddling next to him.
“I think it’s the fugitive we were chasing.”
“How’d he get away from you? How’d he get a gun?”
“We didn’t have him. That’s why we were going after him. To take him into custody. He saw us and bolted.” He paused. “He must have doubled back to get behind us. And I don’t know where the gun came from.”
He studied the woman who’d braved gunfire to help him. She was tall, probably about four inches shorter than his own six feet two inches, and had her dark blond hair pulled into a messy ponytail. Strands had escaped to frame her tanned face and intelligent dark brown eyes blinked up at him. Being this close to her, he inhaled the scent of horses and the outdoors with each breath. He liked it and realized it was a smell that fit her. She was pretty in a way that definitely caught his attention, but more wholesome girl next door rather than magazine model.
Arctic Witness Page 18
