Читать книгу Fugitive Trail - Elizabeth Goddard - Страница 16

That night Bryce had dinner with Sierra as planned, in spite of the events of the afternoon. In spite of Raul’s attack on her in broad daylight. The guy had no fear.

That alone had shaken Bryce to his core, though he tried to hide that fact from Sierra. He’d also tried to dissuade her from dinner at the café.

“I won’t let him ruin my life here,” she’d said.

After chasing after Raul and failing to capture him, Bryce had found Sierra in her kitchen, calming her nerves by petting Samson.

And now here they sat across from each other in a booth, trying to pretend everything was normal. Trying, and failing.

He’d been relieved when the waiter took their barely eaten food away. Neither of them had much of an appetite, and in that way, Raul was succeeding in ruining her life, as she put it.

Add to that, here in the café, they were probably too exposed.

“I’ll see you back home,” he said. Maybe if he stuck close to her Raul wouldn’t be so bold. And maybe law enforcement had chased him far from here after today. In the meantime, he’d seen an increase in state law enforcement in town, adding to the county sheriff’s meager presence. Sierra was as well protected as she could be.

But until he heard that the criminal had been caught, he would remain on high alert.

Nodding her agreement, she eased from the booth. “I’ll need to take Samson for a walk. Want to come?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t mind spending more time with him.” He hitched a grin. “Oh, okay, and you too.”

He kept the conversation light, but neither of them was feeling it. The heaviness of Raul’s escape and pursuit of Sierra was pulling them both down.

“You know, walking Samson could be a problem if Raul is still here in town.” Walking a dog was one of those daily routines that tended to follow a predictable pattern—and that could be dangerous, even if the dog was a massive K-9 mountain search dog.

“It’s not like it can be helped.” Her eyes glistened in the low lighting of the café. “Samson has to be walked.”

“Maybe I can do that for you instead.”

She shook her head. “I won’t put you in danger like that.”

He knew, like him, she hoped it would be over soon.

Sierra paused at the door to thank Miguel, the café owner. The man’s smile and warm gaze told Bryce that he was interested in Sierra. Bryce swallowed the shard of jealousy that surged up his throat. Then he escorted her across the street and through the store. Samson’s deep throaty bark could be heard through the walls.

“It’s easier to go through the store than to walk all the way around the building and storefronts, through the alley and then back around, especially when the snow can get too deep and isn’t always plowed or shoveled. It’s a weird setup, I know. But living at the back of the store is super convenient for Dad.”

In the living room, her father sat in a recliner and flicked through television programs.

Bryce peered through the blinds at the dark woods. The light coming from the windows chased away few shadows. “It’s convenient, true, but it certainly isn’t the best setup for your current situation.”

Sierra grabbed the leash off the hook. “Good thing I’ve got my K-9 and my handgun.”

Right. Good thing. “Better keep the gun with you at all times then.” She certainly hadn’t had it with her today.

She nodded, but didn’t acknowledge his comment any further, turning to her father instead. “How was dinner?” she asked. To Bryce, she said, “He insisted on warming up leftovers—fried chicken tenders and green beans—in the microwave.”

“Probably better than what you ate at that restaurant.” Her father chuckled.

“Right. My cooking isn’t the best, I know, Dad. But the café’s food is definitely better.” Sierra attached the leash to Samson’s collar—more a formality than an actual restraint, due to Samson’s size.

She started to open the back door. Bryce touched her arm and leaned in to whisper. “I think it’s a good idea to avoid going out this back way for the foreseeable future.” He wouldn’t say more in front of Sierra’s father. He wasn’t sure how much she had shared with the man.

She frowned and nodded. “What was I thinking? You’re right.”

She led Bryce and Samson back through the storefront. She unlocked and then once again locked the door. Anxiety settled in his stomach. He shoved through the deepening snow and a snow berm to get to the plowed street. “I’ll be here first thing in the morning to shovel this away so customers can get to you.”

“It’s a problem, to be sure.”

Snowflakes coated them both but being with Sierra seemed to add warmth to Bryce’s layers, despite the cold dread that coursed through him.

As they walked, keeping to the freshly plowed street as opposed to the un-shoveled sidewalk, he didn’t want to break the silence but he needed to say the words. “Samson is a deterrent, but be cautious even when you’re out walking him. His protection isn’t foolproof.”

“And yours is?” She arched her brow again.

He almost smiled at that—he’d missed seeing her feistiness on a regular basis.

“You know what I mean,” he said. Someone bent on harming her could shoot Samson and then Sierra too.

“I didn’t thank you for today. You distracted Raul, pulling his attention from me and then he ran from you. Not me. You. If you hadn’t been there maybe I could have won the fight, but I can’t be sure. Just like before, you were there in time, Bryce. I owe you. But today drove home that you’re putting yourself in danger by being here.” Sierra turned to him, her breath puffing out white clouds. Snowflakes clung to her lashes.

“Don’t tell me that you’re worried about me?” Okay, that was just plain wrong—it sounded like he was asking her to say how much he meant to her. He wasn’t going to flirt with her.

Sierra didn’t answer.

That’s because she probably knew he didn’t want to know the real answer. Either way. He ignored the painful memories of their past and his attraction to her. Samson’s low growl drew his attention to the animal and then the woods just beyond the line of buildings. He had suspected those woods were going to be a problem.

The beast continued his growl then barked.

“Easy, Samson,” she said.

“Can you control him?” Bryce asked.

“Warten!” She commanded Samson to wait.

Sierra had used German words for her commands when she trained Samson because it was easier for Samson to differentiate the commands from her every day communications. The dog did as he was trained to do but he continued to growl.

“I’m going to check it out,” Bryce said. “Get behind that nine-passenger van.”

“Hier.” Here, she commanded Samson. The dog whined then moved close to Sierra.

Sierra grabbed Bryce’s arm and squeezed, tugging him back. “Bryce, be careful.”

Her tone was intense, and something else in her voice told him she did still care deeply about him.

But neither of them would act on that, each having their own reasons.

Gunfire exploded.

The bullet whizzed by his ear even as he shoved Sierra to the ground. She held firm to Samson who wanted to take off. “Nein!”

“Sierra, we could use his help here.” Bryce edged away from her, preparing to make a run for it and get this guy.

“I won’t send him in there to be shot and killed,” she said. “I’ve seen that happen before. I won’t do it.”

“Then don’t. Let’s take cover.” They were still too exposed.

They crept behind a van they could use for a temporary barrier. Sierra kept her dog close. Bryce could breathe a little easier now that they had some protection—but they weren’t out of danger yet. He didn’t want to get pinned here. “Contact your sheriff and let him know we have an active shooter.”

Sierra nodded and tugged out her cell. She wasn’t wearing her radio. She spoke quickly into the cell letting dispatch know about the shooter at the edge of town. Good thing the festivalgoers were mostly at the other end of town near the vendor booths.

Bryce and Sierra had both pulled their weapons out. Another shot rang out and Samson was eager to work. If he weren’t well trained, he would already have taken off.

“Cover me.” Bryce prepared to dash across the street.

“No, wait!” Sierra whispered. “Don’t go out there.”

“This is our chance to get him, Sierra.”

“You’re not law enforcement anymore, Bryce. Remember? You can’t arrest that guy even if you catch him. I’m the deputy sheriff. I need to come with you if you go.”

Bryce wanted to give her a piece of his mind, but this wasn’t the time. They’d have to work together then. As much as he didn’t want her in the line of fire, he knew she wasn’t going to back down.

Another shot rang out, this time from a different position. Pain stabbed through Bryce.

“Bryce!” Sierra shouted. Fear coursed through her.

He’d been shot. Bryce stumbled back. Then grabbed his upper arm. He lifted his bloody hand to stare at the wound. “It’s just a graze. I’m all right.”

“How do you know that? You can’t tell by looking at the blood on your hand.”

He moved his arm, though with a grimace. “See? It’s just a graze.” They moved out of harm’s way and he peered around the vehicle, his weapon at the ready.

“Well, the sheriff knows where we are, someone should be here soon.” Sierra’s voice shook.

“Stay here with Samson. You’re not going with me. Raul wants you dead, remember? I don’t need to worry about you or Samson getting shot.”

Oh, that was a low blow. Bryce knew she would want to protect Samson.

“Does he have a command for guarding you?” Bryce asked.

“Of course he does. I’ll be fine. I just need you to be safe too, Bryce.”

Wind whipped around the vehicles and sliced through her like a frozen knife, and of course—the snow had to pick up.

And just like that, Bryce disappeared around the vehicle and ran across the street.

Grrrrr!

Sierra got on her cell again for dispatch. “Where’s the sheriff? Is he on his way? Or a deputy or something. One of those state officers. Bryce is chasing after the shooter.”

“Aren’t you a deputy?”

“That’s beside the point. I don’t want to put Samson at more risk from a bullet by chasing after the shooter.” She didn’t use him as anything but a SAR dog. And sure, if someone broke into her home with intentions to harm her, then Samson was there to guard her, but that didn’t mean she’d deliberately put him in harm’s way. And yet, it didn’t sit right to let Bryce face whoever was out there by himself. Apprehension warred inside—Sierra wasn’t sure if she was doing the right thing.

“Sheriff’s on his way.”

“Okay. Tell him to hurry.”

Samson yanked on his leash, pulled her away from the van. He wanted to follow Bryce to track and find the threat per his original K-9 training. That, and Samson was protective like any dog, wanting to neutralize the threat.

“Sitzen!” Samson followed her command and sat next to her, his huge form giving her warmth. “Zei Brav,” she said, then again in English: “Good boy.”

After a few seconds ticked by, Sierra tightened her hold on Samson’s leash. “Hier. Come on. I’m taking you home. I need to go after Bryce.” Just what Bryce wouldn’t want. “From now on, you’re wearing your vest when we go out.”

Because of his enormous size, Samson had to have a special vest created for him. That had been back in Boulder—over a year earlier. Now that she thought about it, his vest probably wouldn’t fit him anymore. They made their way quickly down the street back toward the toy store. Only a few people were out visiting restaurants in this cold. The vendor exhibits still open were at the far end of town.

No one reacted as if they’d heard gunfire.

Samson barked again, letting her know his displeasure. He was well trained. Samson could track the shooter, but she knew what could happen to him as well.

Raul would shoot and kill Samson.

As for Bryce, she couldn’t control him. He was a grown man—and he was fully trained in dealing with dangerous criminals. Samson couldn’t shoot back or protect himself against a deadly bullet. She pushed through the deepening snow, heading back toward the toy store as fast as she could. And away from Bryce.

Lord, please, please keep him safe.

She didn’t like that he’d run off from her, and later on she would scold him for it. But only after he was back and safe. She started around to the back, which was the entrance she usually took with Samson, then remembered the woods—the same woods Bryce had probably entered to find the shooter. She’d assured him she wouldn’t take that route.

Sierra took Samson through the front of the toy store to the apartment in back and found Dad still watching his program. He glanced up at her. “That was a short walk. Did Bryce go back to his hotel?”

“Dad, didn’t you hear those shots fired?”

He turned the television down. “What’d you say?”

Right. “Never mind. I have to go back out. Keep an eye on Samson for me, okay?”

“Always do.”

Samson growled then barked at her. He wanted to come along. He nipped at her gloved hands as if he would keep her from going back outside without him. She pressed a kiss on his massive forehead. “You’re a good boy. You know what’s going on, don’t you?”

Her weapon tucked away, she exited through the front, locking all doors behind her. The sheriff met her at the door. Great timing, but she nearly ran into him.

“I got the message about the shots fired. I couldn’t find you so hoped you were back here,” he said.

“Where’s Bryce?” she asked.

“I didn’t see him. Tell me what’s happened.”

“Walk with me while we talk.” The snow was growing deep enough to slow them down, filling her with frustration. “Someone took a couple of shots at us while we were out walking the dog. Bryce went after the shooter.”

“And you let him go by himself?”

“I tried to stop him. He wanted me to take Samson back home, which I did.”

“The dog could find the shooter. Maybe take him down too.”

“Yes, and the dog could also get shot and killed. I don’t have Samson for these kinds of circumstances, Sheriff.” Even though the fear of an attacker was the exact reason she’d wanted a big dog. “Samson is trained for mountain search and rescue.”

In response, the sheriff merely offered her a severe frown. Clearly he didn’t agree with the way she used her dog. Sierra didn’t care what he thought.

Samson wasn’t an employee of the sheriff’s department. No one other than Sierra had any right to say what he should or shouldn’t face.

She tugged her weapon out. She hoped the shooter hadn’t taken Bryce out already. Her heart ached at the mere thought of it. And if Bryce got seriously injured out there—how much of the blame lay with her?

“Now are you going to help me then?” she asked. “Because I’m not sitting this one out.”

Sheriff Locke readied his own weapon. “That, I am.”