Lenora Worth - Lone Star Protector

“We’ll put out a BOLO.”

Slade nodded on that.

“Get a good look at the attacker?” one of the officers asked.

Kaitlin spoke up. “He was wearing a dark mask like a ski mask. His eyes looked...so black, an eerie black. He must have been wearing special contacts because even the whites of his eyes looked dark.”

Slade saw the shudder moving down her body. And felt the hair on his neck rising. This wasn’t the first time he’d had a run-in with a man fitting that description. Last month, he’d glimpsed a masked gunman with blacked-out eyes fleeing Melody Zachary’s hotel suite after a tense standoff that left K-9 detective Parker Adams with a gunshot wound. However, he didn’t let on in front of Kaitlin that this suspect had to be the hooded man who’d been wreaking havoc on his entire department. The body count kept rising due to the heavy-handed work of a local crime syndicate run by a mastermind known as The Boss. And now someone within this criminal’s organization had made a bold attempt right here on police grounds. Five months ago, his K-9 partner Rio had been stolen and now this. Someone was deliberately taunting him.

He wanted this case over and done with before someone else got killed.

Turning to the officer, he said, “That’s an apt description. He was average height, maybe a hundred and seventy pounds, medium build. He wore black coveralls.” Slade stopped, a shiver of familiarity moving down his spine. He shook it off, figuring things had happened so fast he still had a lot of images running through his head. Especially the one of Kaitlin being held a gunpoint.

“There was a wide silver zipper down the front,” she added, her voice becoming stronger. “He had a...raspy voice. He kept telling me I had to go with him.”

Kaitlin kept her hand on Warrior and petted the dog over and over. She was scared but was clearly putting on a brave front. Slade’s heart still thumped against his chest. The image of that masked man holding her at gunpoint would stay with him for a long time.

After the officers took their statements and along with the crime scene unit, covered every inch of the area where the van had been idling, Slade finally told the others he needed to get Kaitlin home.

“I can drive myself,” she insisted tersely, her pupils settling into a stubborn dark green. “Warrior always goes home with me. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m taking you home,” Slade said in his best captain voice. “So don’t argue with me.”

She stared him down, then shrugged. “Then let’s get out of here.”

TWO

Word of the attack spread quickly.

Kaitlin’s cell rang the minute Slade pulled the car into her driveway. The first call came from fellow trainer Harry Markham. “Kait, are you all right? I got a call from Callie.”

“I’m fine,” Kaitlin said, her eyes on Slade. The man was so solid and sure she couldn’t help but feel safe, yet she worried that he’d take this kidnapping attempt to heart since he didn’t take down the culprit. “It wasn’t any fun, but I’m okay, really. Tell Callie—”

Her phone beeped another call. “That’s Callie right now. I’d better talk to her.”

She quickly told her supervisor, Callie Peterson, what had happened.

Slade got out and looked around her yard, then opened the car door for her.

“I’m home and Captain McNeal is here with me. He insisted on giving me a ride. Yes, I have Warrior. He warned me but...the masked man...he grabbed me from behind.”

As she tightened her grip on the phone, Slade tightened his glare on her. “I have to go, Callie. Captain McNeal needs to get home to his family.”

She hung up and let the next call, from her trainer friend Francine Loomis, go to voice mail. “They’re all concerned,” she told Slade. “We’re all close. Like family.”

“You left out the part where you tripped him up and jabbed him in the ribs. Or how you managed to kick that gun away like it was a soccer ball.”

She blinked at the mention of her ordeal. “I went into automatic response, I think. Self-defense and officer training from years ago kicked in.”

“You took a big risk. He could have killed you.”

“He didn’t. Because I knew you’d take him down before he ever reached that gun again.”

His jaw hardened. “Yeah, well, I somehow managed to let him get away.”

Was he implying that she had distracted him? Hard to say. The captain’s expression was a study in frustration. But then, the man was hard to read on a good day. And this had not turned out to be a good day.

“You didn’t let him get away. The perp was returning fire so you had to protect yourself.”

He grunted, his silver-blue eyes doing an intimidating sweep of the neighborhood. When they reached her front door, he turned to her. “Give me your keys.”

Kaitlin did as he asked, figuring it would save time and save her from arguing with him. The man was like a steamroller. He rolled right along doing his job without hesitation, but he sure didn’t like to engage in chitchat. Slade McNeal was always focused and intent on getting the bad guys.

Except earlier, when he held me in his arms.

Or rather, when she’d clung to him like he was the last Kevlar vest and she had dibs. Looking at him now, seeing that coiled bundle of strength and determination in his body language, she tried to put the memory of his solid chest out of her mind. She’d think about Slade McNeal and his silvery eyes and quicksilver moods later when she was alone and couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t thought of him before and often. Her heart went out to him and his little boy, Caleb.

Slade’s wife had been killed two years ago in a car bomb that, according to word around the yard, had been intended for Slade. Then five months ago, his K-9 partner, a beautiful German shepherd named Rio, had been taken from his backyard. That attack had left his elderly father Patrick McNeal—a retired police officer—injured and in a coma for weeks. Top that with a five-year-old son who had withdrawn after his mother’s horrible death.

No wonder the man was grumpy.

Slade opened the door and stepped through, one hand gesturing at her. “Stay behind me. We’ll send Warrior in first.”

She glanced back. “Good idea.”

Kaitlin called the command and willed the still-green animal to do a good job. Since she was purposely training this particular canine officer to help find Rio, she wanted Warrior to impress Slade. The Belgian Malinois, eager to let go of some of his own pent-up energy, hurled past Slade and danced across the hardwood floors of the living room, his nose moving from the floor to the air.

“C’mon,” Slade said, reaching behind to grab her hand.

His touch shot through Kaitlin like a sizzling dynamite fuse. She’d always had a little thing for the captain, but she wasn’t so needy that she’d play this for all it was worth. If the man ever had a lightbulb moment and turned interested, she wanted him to come to her on better terms than her playing a damsel in distress.

She’d never be that woman. Not since the day she’d watched her mother being put in the ground. Kaitlin had learned the hard way to take care of herself. And she needed to remember that Captain McNeal was as tightly wound as a ticking clock. The man lived and breathed his job, especially since whoever had taken Rio kept coming after people they both knew.

He let her go once they were in the living room. “Kitchen looks safe.”

She glanced across the hallway to her tiny efficiency kitchen. “It is, except for my cooking.”

He almost smiled. “I’ll take that under consideration.”

Warrior rushed back, eager for a treat and a good rubdown.

“Didn’t find anything, boy?” Slade asked, his tone softening toward the dog. He looked down at a basket by the door and found a chew rag, then held it out for Warrior. “He might have saved your life today.”