Elizabeth Goddard - Fugitive Trail

“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.