Delgado whirled, drew back his foot, and kicked Meredith in the stomach. “Shut up, you stupid cow!”
Drawing up her knees, Meredith gulped desperately, her breath making short whistling sounds in her windpipe. Oh, God. She couldn’t breath. A swirling, star-studded blackness blanked out her vision. Finally, her lungs expanded, the indrawn breath catching in her throat and making her gag.
In the twin beams of the headlights, Heath saw two men outlined against Meredith’s bedroom window. What the hell? One man held something in his hand that flashed like a mirror. Heath’s gut clenched. A gun. He no sooner thought that than he heard a scream.
Heath grabbed for the radio, elbowing Goliath aside to reach the mike. After keying for transmission, he said, “Masters, calling unit three. Urgent!”
Sarah Brewer, the swing shift dispatcher, came back. “Yes, Sheriff? Over.”
Goliath lunged across Heath’s lap to claw at the door. Heath hooked one arm around the dog’s neck and shoved him back onto the passenger seat. “I’ve got a B and E at 1423 Hereford Lane. Two men, both armed. I’m going in and need backup. Out.”
“Sending backup, 1423 Hereford Lane. Out.”
Heath didn’t cut the engine or douse the headlights. The glare would blind the other men and provide him with at least some cover. He threw open the door, using it as a shield as he swung from the Bronco. Goliath leaped out and lunged past him.
The dog looked surreal in the lights, a hundred and fifty pounds of black fury bounding toward the house. Before Heath could even move, the Rottweiler leaped and went airborne, clearing the porch and hurtling himself through the bedroom window. The glass shattered, the shards catching the light and imploding like silver rain into the room.
Like a cannonball, Goliath plowed into the chest of the man standing closest to the window, the force of impact carrying the man backward. The semiautomatic flew from his hand and struck the floor, a bullet discharging with explosive report.
The house suddenly seemed a hundred miles away. Instead of taking a direct path to the porch, Heath hunkered down, circled out from the Bronco into the darkness, and then veered back, giving the lights a wide birth. He felt as if he were running against a headwind. By contrast, his brain was racing, his thoughts a tangle of half-formed perceptions—that of men, of guns, and Meredith screaming. He had no idea who the men were. Or why they were there. He only knew they had weapons and deadly intent.
With each running step, Heath took in details. There was no strange car in the driveway, which meant the men had come in on foot. Judging by the sound of Meredith’s cries, she was somewhere in the bedroom. He saw no sign of Sammy.
Thank God he hadn’t ignored Goliath’s strange behavior. The dog had known. Somehow the dog had known.
Images ran fleetingly through his mind as he reached the porch. Of bedraggled paper roses and a little girl’s quivering mouth. Of a woman with a smile so sweet it made his heart catch. Less than thirty minutes ago, Heath had been shaking with anger at Meredith. Now none of that seemed important. Not any of his questions, nor any of her possible explanations. All that mattered was getting her and Sammy out of there.
Heath’s first instinct was to rush into the house right behind his dog. His training took over where common sense failed him.
A confusing cacophony of sound erupted from the bedroom. Male voices, crying out in angry surprise, then in fear. Goliath’s snarls, deep and frenzied—the crazed battle cry of a dog attacking to kill. The dull thud of a body hitting a wall. Objects crashing to the floor. Dislodged furniture scraping the linoleum.
Gun drawn and ready, Heath plastered himself against the side of the house. Never rush in blind. As difficult as it was, he had to force himself to think. He had no backup yet. If he screwed up, there wouldn’t be any second chances.
Meredith. Oh, God. Meredith was in there someplace.
Heath slipped in the front door, any sounds he made drowned out by the ruckus. Back to the wall. In a firing stance. Weapon ready. He knew the drill, had executed the moves a thousand times. He shoved his concern for Meredith to the back of his mind. No room for mistakes, no time to let emotion cloud his judgment.
Guarding his back because he had no idea how many other intruders might be in the house, he slid along the wall toward the bedroom doorway. Count one. He dragged in a deep breath and unlatched the safety on his gun. Count two. He stepped out from the wall and pivoted to face the doorway, his arms extended, elbows locked, the gun in his hands rock steady. Count three. He burst through the doorway, squinting against the blinding glare of his Bronco’s headlights.
“County Sheriff! Freeze!”
Heath burst through the bedroom doorway like a tornado, ready to take out anything in his path. Meredith had never been so glad to see anyone in all her life. Wrists locked, weapon ready to fire, he stood with his feet spread and his legs slightly bent, swinging first to the right, then to the left.
She felt as if she were watching a divided television screen, the blur of motion and noise coming at her so fast she couldn’t focus on any one thing. Delgado, roaring in pain and trying frantically to get away from Goliath. The dog, snarling horribly and jumping Delgado from behind. The blond man, Nelson, who had been crawling around on the floor to find the gun he’d dropped, leaping out of the darkness to hit Heath broadside. Heath, staggering sideways and loosing his grip on his gun. The two men, pummeling each other, then falling backward, Heath striking his head on the wall.
In the movies, the cops always won. Didn’t they? Oh, God. Stunned from the blow to his head, Heath slid down the wall and slumped on the floor, a dazed expression on his face. Taking advantage of his opponent’s momentary incapacity, Nelson leaped to his feet and began kicking Heath, the blows making muted thudding sounds as the toe of his shoe connected with flesh. Having just experienced the pain of being kicked herself, Meredith’s body convulsed with every strike.
Straining at the cord on her wrists, she cried, “Heath! Get up! Oh, God, get up!”
He shook his head, then struggled to his knees. Like a vulture swooping down to tear at carrion, Nelson descended again, delivering a stunning blow to Heath’s jaw that sent him reeling backward. Nelson began kicking him again.
“Stop it! Oh, God! Don’t!”
Meredith thought sure Heath would never get back up. With one kick to her stomach, she’d been unable to breathe, let alone move, and Heath had been kicked a dozen times. He angled an arm over his mid-section, groaned, and tried to sit up. Nelson laughed and leaned over him, grabbing him by the front of his uniform shirt to haul him to his feet.
“Looks like the big, tough sheriff ain’t so tough!”
Arms hanging limply at his sides, his boots set wide apart to keep his balance, Heath swayed and shook his head again, senseless from the blows. Nelson rammed a fist into his belly, knocking him back a step. Heath’s lungs expelled breath with a low whoosh, but he staggered to stay erect. Nelson advanced on him again.
“Don’t! Stop it! Please!” she cried, knowing even as she pleaded that these men didn’t know the meaning of the word mercy.
Nelson only laughed. Terrified for Heath, Meredith managed to sit up, but that was all she could do. No matter how she jerked or twisted her arms, she failed to break the cord on her wrists. Only a few feet away, Goliath still struggled with Delgado, his snarls a throaty harmony to the man’s hoarse curses and shouts.
As Nelson stepped close to strike Heath again, Heath moved with a suddenness that took both Nelson and Meredith by surprise. Not senseless, after all, she realized. Far from it. Heath grabbed Nelson by the hair and butted the other man in the face with his forehead. Nelson roared and grabbed for his nose, only to have Heath butt him again before he could get his hands up. The blond staggered backward when Heath released him.
“Not so tough, hey, city boy?” Heath grabbed Nelson by the front of his jacket and buried a fist in the man’s stomach with such force that Nelson’s feet parted company with the floor. When
Heath hit him again, Jensen crumpled, his knees cracking loudly against the floor as he fell. “Out here, we call it playing possum, asshole. Lesson number one: when you’re kicking the shit out of country boys, don’t get cocky.”
Nelson slumped onto his side in a fetal position, blinking to clear his vision, his nose and mouth streaming blood. Sitting only a few feet from him, Meredith wished with all her heart that her hands were free so she could thump him a good one herself. She would never forget or forgive the way he had dragged Sammy around by her hair.
Heath stepped around Nelson to retrieve his semiautomatic. Just as he bent to pick up the gun, Nelson made a grab for it as well. This time, however, he didn’t have the element of surprise to give him an advantage. Heath came down on top of him, and being the larger and stronger of the two, he quickly pinned Nelson and gained control of the weapon.
Just as Heath started to roll Nelson over onto his stomach to cuff him, the room exploded with the report of a gun. Heath jerked and whirled toward the sound. Only a few feet away, Delgado writhed on the floor, trying frantically to pry Goliath’s jaws loose from his wrist. A mere inch beyond the man’s reach lay his gun, which had evidently gone off accidentally while he struggled with the dog.
With the heel of his hand, Heath slid Delgado’s weapon well away from him. “Hold him, Goliath!”
The Rottweiler released Delgado’s wrist to seize him by the throat. The dark-haired man went still, stark terror contorting his features.
Heath reared up on his knees over Nelson and went suddenly still himself. Meredith drew her gaze from Delgado and Goliath, wondering what was wrong. Then she saw the blood pooling on the floor under Nelson’s head.
“Oh, God,” Heath said softly. “He’s dead.”
Meredith couldn’t believe it. Heath leaned forward to check for a pulse. At his touch, Nelson’s head lolled sideways, turning his face toward Meredith. Blank, blue eyes stared at her. Her stomach convulsed, and her bile rose.
“Got him in the back of his head,” Heath said.
Meredith couldn’t stop staring at the blood. It was spreading out from Nelson’s head like a small lake, obscenely crimson against the speckled linoleum.
Heath didn’t seem as affected by the gore as she was. Moving away from the body, he quickly checked something on his gun and pushed unsteadily to his feet. For a moment, he seemed to have difficulty standing. The punishment he’d taken from Nelson had taken more of a toll on his body than he’d let on, she realized.
Awash in the blaze of light that poured in the window, his dark face revealed no emotion. He simply stood there for a moment, as if regathering his strength. Then, swinging around, he aimed his semiautomatic at Delgado.
The man still lay in a motionless sprawl. Every time he so much as breathed too deeply, the Rottweiler snarled and bit down over his throat a little harder.
“I should let him rip out your jugular,” Heath said as he stooped to pick up Delgado’s gun. He winced and pressed his arm to his abdomen as he straightened. After tucking the weapon under his belt, he said, “All right. Off, Goliath. I’ve got him.”
The Rottweiler whined and backed slowly away. Delgado pressed a shaky hand to his neck. “He could’ve killed me!” he cried in a voice gone weak with fright.
“If he’d wanted to kill you, you’d be dead,” Heath retorted. “Roll over, face down, arms behind your back! Give me any trouble, and I’ll let him tear you apart.”
The instant Delgado turned over, Heath planted a knee in the center of the man’s back, then holstered his gun.
“Easy!” Delgado cried. “Take it easy. You trying to snap my spine? I’m gonna sue! Unnecessary force! There are laws, man. You can’t treat people like this!”
It looked to Meredith as if Heath pressed down even harder with his knee. Then he removed the set of handcuffs from the pouch on his belt and snapped one of the bands closed over Delgado’s wrist, the other over the footrail of the bed frame. The moment the cuffs clicked closed, Goliath raced from the bedroom. Meredith suspected the dog had gone to find Sammy.
Sammy. Tears rushed to Meredith’s eyes. What kind of state might the child be in? She had to be all right. She just had to be. Thanks to Heath and Goliath, Meredith had survived Glen’s second attempt to kill her. Before he could try again, she and Sammy would be far away from here, leaving no trail so Glen might find them again.
For now, it was over. She and Sammy were safe. Where there was life, there was hope, and that was what she needed to focus on.
Heath pushed to his feet. As he turned toward her, the lights of his Bronco struck him full in the face. His dark features were set in grim lines, his mouth narrowed, a muscle along his jaw twitching. As he moved toward her with slow, deliberate steps, his gaze flashed like quicksilver in the glare of the headlights, seeming to scorch her everywhere it touched.
Not over, she realized. Without his saying a word, she knew he had discovered the truth about her. It was written all over him, from the measured way he moved to the glitter in his eyes.
Back when she’d first met him, Meredith remembered thinking that having to deal with this man when he was angry wasn’t an ordeal she wanted to experience, and even after she’d come to know him better, she’d always been careful never to make him mad.
Well, she’d done it now. The laser-hot blast of his eyes could have pulverized rock.
Chapter 19
Heath had never been so furious. Walking away from the man on the floor without killing him was the most difficult thing he’d ever done. Then he saw a dark splotch of blood on the sleeve of Meredith’s white shirt, and his rage went from barely restrained to atomic, erupting in a cloud of heat that seared a path to his face.
She was hurt. The sons of bitches had hurt her. Heath knotted his hands into fists, struggling against the urge to strangle the one surviving man with his bare hands.
Meredith jerked away as he knelt beside her. When he touched her shoulder, she flinched. The fear he saw in her eyes would have taken him to his knees if he hadn’t already been there. She thought his anger was directed at her.
For a moment, he couldn’t think why she would believe that. Then he remembered how furious he had been earlier when he’d learned there was a warrant out for her arrest. That was an issue he had no choice but to address, but he’d worry about it later. Right now, he had more immediate concerns.
“Are you all right?” His voice came out gruff and strained. “You’re bleeding.”
She glanced down at her sleeve. “It’s nothing. A scrape, is all.” Her teeth began chattering as she spoke, and then her body began to shake. “Just a scrape.”
Concerned that she might be going into shock, Heath touched his fingertips to her throat to take her pulse, which was elevated but within normal range. Her skin felt dry, rather than cold and clammy, which was a good sign as well.
“Where’s Sammy?” he asked gently.
At the mention of her daughter, she began to jerk futilely to free her arms. “Have to go. Find her. Please.” A stricken look came over her face. “Oh, God, that man—her hair.” Her voice broke. “Jerked her around—up onto a chair. She ran a—away!”
“Merry, calm down.” Heath bent to untie her. “Do you know where she went?”
“Outside. They ch—chased her. Brought her back. She bit him!” A hysterical little laugh erupted from her. “Bless her heart. She bit him and got away. I have to go find her. I have to! Please, Heath?”
She was tearing so frantically at the cord on her wrists that he was afraid she might hurt herself. “Merry, stop it!” he ordered harshly. “Hold still so I can get at the knots. That’s a girl. Just calm down. We’ll find her, all right? I’m sure she’s fine. She’s a tough little nut.”
That was a lie, of course. Sammy was a fragile child, those blue eyes the biggest thing about her. As Heath struggled to free Meredith’s wrists, his concern for the little girl’s safety mounted. “Do you think they hurt her?”
“Her ha
ir,” she repeated. “He grabbed her hair, picked her up, jerked her around!”
Heath had thought he’d never feel more furious than when he saw the blood on Meredith’s shirt. Wrong. He wanted to put his fist through something, preferably the salesman’s face. He finally succeeded in untying the cord that bound her wrists, then the one at her ankles.
The instant she was free, she scrambled to her feet and raced from the room. Heath ran after her, finding his way in the darkness by memory and hoping with every step that he didn’t trip over something and break his neck. He came to a stop just behind Meredith in the bathroom. Moonbeams spilled through the window, gilding the small enclosure with silvery light.
Sammy was huddled in the bathtub with Goliath, her thin little arms wrapped around the dog’s neck, her face buried against his fur. She didn’t look up when she heard footsteps. For that matter, she didn’t move. It was as if she were frozen in one position, clinging to Goliath for dear life.
“Oh, God,” Meredith whispered raggedly as she dropped to her knees beside the tub and leaned over the rim to lightly touch her child’s hair. “Sammy?” she called softly. “Hey, sweetkins, it’s Mommy. Are you okay?”
When the child didn’t respond, Meredith sat back on her heels and clamped her hands over her mouth. In the dimness, Heath saw her shoulders jerking and knew she was gulping back sobs. Alarmed by her behavior, he went down on one knee beside her and reached for Sammy himself. The instant his hand settled on the child’s back, she shrieked and shrank closer to the dog, who growled and bared his teeth in warning.
“Hey, Sammy,” Heath said softly, ignoring Goliath’s snarls. “Are you all right, honey?”
At the sound of his voice, Sammy’s head came up and she whipped around, giving a joyous little cry. Before Heath could even react, she launched her small body at him. Wincing at the pain that lanced across his bruised rib cage, he caught her close, horribly aware of how violently she was trembling.