Page 90 of High Intensity

The bodyguard?

“Obviously not here,” is my prompt response, trying to throw him off.

I’m sure she is hiding nearby or Hunter would not have almost pulled my arm from my socket trying to get here, but I’m not about to draw this man’s attention to that.

“Bullshit. Your dog led you here,” he counters, waving his gun at Hunter, who is sniffing furiously at the chain-link fence around the dog run.

“Yes, she did, she followed her own scent and that of her pack to her own house. The search was too close to her own territory, too many familiar scents. She did what dogs do naturally, she found her way home, that’s all.” I gesture around me. “Look for yourself, Hayley isn’t here. The house is still locked up tight, you’re more than welcome to check,” I bluff, eager to get him away from the kennel.

The next instant, he lowers the gun and for a moment I think the threat is over, but then, without any provocation, he fires at Hunter who is inches from my legs. At her yelp, I sink down to my knees.

“Useless fucking dog,” I hear him mutter, but I only have eyes for my sweet girl, who is lying in the snow, a bloodstain spreading from underneath her head.

When a second shot sounds, I throw myself on top of her, using my body to shield hers. I vaguely register the barking from inside the house has gone frantic, as I wait for the next shot to hit me.

But there’s no next shot, only what sounds like a physical struggle. When I dare a glance over my shoulder, I recognize Wolff and someone else, struggling with the man on the ground. Trusting Lucas to take control of that situation, I push myselfoff Hunter and press my gloves against the wound on her poor head.

“Are you okay?” I hear Wolff call out.

“Yes, but Hunter was shot,” I yell back, hearing the panic in my own voice.

I already almost lost her and Nugget when they were drugged, and now this.

I’m almost in tears when a hand lands on my shoulder.

“Help is on the way,” JD’s quiet voice sounds beside me as he gently nudges me out of the way. “Let me take a look.”

I reluctantly let go of her, and as JD calmly takes charge of the situation, I start noticing things I didn’t see before. Like the fact Hunter’s chest seems to rise and fall with deep steady breaths, and she’s trying to lift her head.

“It looks worse than it is,” JD reports, as he allows Hunter to sit up. “Part of her ear is gone, and she has a nasty gash from her ear to just above her eye, but the bleeding has stopped, and I don’t think the bullet penetrated anything essential.”

Suddenly I’m pulled up to my feet and enveloped in a familiar embrace.

“Christ, Jilly. That was another few years off my life,” Wolff rumbles, his face shoved in my neck.

When he lifts me up in his arms and swings me around, my eyes catch on a pair of copper-colored ones, staring at me from the cracked door of the dog kennel.

Hayley.

Wolff

Her body goes rigid in my arms.

“Hayley,”she whispers in my ear. “Don’t turn around, but she’s hiding in my dog kennel.”

Poor kid. After everything that happened to her already, we can add a shooting to her trauma. Both the dog’s, and my shooting of Vallard’s fucking bodyguard.

I’m pretty sure he’ll survive that first shot, but it makes me want to haul out my gun and shoot the bastard again.

He fought me for a bit when I tried to get his gun away from him, but I managed to struggle him to the ground. Since I’m not in the habit of carrying handcuffs on me, I had to improvise and ended up using my belt to secure his arms behind him, which can’t be that comfortable, given that my bullet ended up in his shoulder.

When I glance over to where I left him on the ground, I see he’s trying to get his feet under him. Behind him, I catch sight of Jackson and James walking into the backyard from the direction of the creek. Jackson takes one look at the bodyguard, who is just struggling to his feet and in one swift kick with his bum leg, knocks the guy right back on his ass.

“I see you’ve been busy,” James comments lightheartedly, but his eyes are serious as he seems to take in the situation. “Need me to make calls?”

“Already done,” JD—who is tending to Jillian’s dog—responds. “Jonas should be here shortly and he was calling emergency services, so those should be right behind him.”

I glance down at Jillian, who is looking up at me with a plea in those sea-green eyes. I know what she’s worried about, she doesn’t have to say anything.

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