Page 152 of Unseen Danger

A lump formed in Branson’s throat as he bent down and put his hands on either side of the dog’s face. “Hey, Al.” Branson didn’t know if he was imagining it or not, but he could’ve sworn Alvarez’s dark eyes held sadness. “We’re going to get her back. Don’t you worry.”

“Alvarez will go with you.”

Branson jerked his head up. “What?”

Phoenix didn’t blink in the shadow cast by the bill of her gray baseball cap. “He’s Nevaeh’s partner. He’ll be the best weapon you could have in there.”

“But I don’t know anything about working with a protection dog.”

Phoenix thrust the leash toward him. “Alvarez knows how to do his job. You just worry about doing yours and don’t get in his way.”

Branson swallowed as he took the leather handle.

“Loose leash at all times. If he wants to go somewhere, let him rip.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The response was instinctive, as if she were his superior officer in the Navy.

“Dagian and I will breach the front with you.” She switched to speaking into coms. “Team Leader, we are a go. Report your positions.”

She lifted a hand and swung it forward to signal Branson to fall in step behind her.

“PT1 to Team Leader, in position.” Sofia was the first to answer. The rest of the team checked in, all of them in position and ready.

Phoenix led the way along the shrubbery that lined the sidewalk, making good use of any concealment along the way to the house.

They’d parked a block away to avoid being detected, but Sofia had gone ahead to scout the abandoned house D-Chop had said Johnson could be using. The rapper had said he and Johnson used to hang out in the old house with their homeboys. And Johnson had holed up in it when he’d been hiding from the police before the last time he’d gotten arrested. According to D-Chop, Johnson claimed it belonged to his uncle, though no one had believed him.

Sofia had reported suspicious activity at the house. A few vehicles parked on the street nearby. Two unidentified men she saw enter, apparently armed.

And a mud-splattered Ram pickup parked alongside the house.

Alvarez quietly kept up with Branson as he followed Phoenix’s quick clip toward the house. The dog’s panting was the loudest sound he made.

There it was.

In the dim light from a streetlamp, a gray house that looked like it should be condemned stood apart from the closest house, which appeared to be in only slightly better condition. The siding of Johnson’s hideout was mostly disintegrating, all traces of paint gone. Visible splotches of something dark—probably mold—spotted the walls instead, an appropriately decaying visage for the house of the violent man who wanted to kill Nevaeh.

But it was the pickup parked in the dirt driveway that arrested his gaze. A black Ram, mud obscuring the license plate. Walter Johnson.

His fingers twitched with the urge to sprint to the house, find the monster and—

“Easy.” Phoenix paused next to an overgrown bush at the edge of the yard that probably belonged with the old structure. She didn’t even glance Branson’s direction. How did she know what he wanted to do?

He tried to harness the adrenaline flowing into his veins. Telling him to rush forward. No good came of pulling a Geronimo. He needed to trust their leader and her team. Needed to trust God.

“Team Leader to Base, in position to breach. Status report.”

Branson breathed out a calming breath.

Just as Alvarez growled.

“Team Leader, this is Base.” Cora’s voice sounded firmer than usual as she responded. “Cameras show no activity outside.”

“Roger, Base.” Phoenix stared in the direction of the house. “Ready to breach in twenty seconds. Base, start countdown now.”

“Twenty…nineteen…” Cora counted the seconds off, her tone steady.

Phoenix didn’t move.

---