Page 58 of Love on the Run

His sense of foreboding was confirmed when he reached the house and saw the door standing open, the lock busted. Although something told him the place was deserted, he still entered cautiously, gun in hand.Signs of a search were all too evident. Every room was trashed.When he got to the living room and saw the shattered glass of the window, his worst suspicions were confirmed.Someone had shot the glass.But then he stared at his couch, puzzled.It had clearly been dragged over to the window and upended to block the open frame.There was no way Callie had the strength to do that, never mind it was a classic police technique for shootouts, one she would know nothing about.

Did she have time to call for help? But if she called 911, he certainly would have known about it.And any official responders would still be here.There was no one. Angry and confused, he climbed to the loft.Callie’s things were half scattered about, as if someone had rifled through her bag.The mattresses had been yanked off the beds, too, and little closets opened.Jake had the impression the search was done out of anger. Nothing seemed missing. Except Callie, the most valuable thing of all.

He went back downstairs. He gave a low whistle for Bruiser, but there was no answering bark.The possibility his dog might have been hurt as well slammed into him. There was no way Bruiser would have left Callie unguarded.So where was he?

Jake quickly headed outside.Listening intently, he heard nothing but the faint calls of some birds.He whistled loudly, and waited.He thought he heard a faint response. Heading toward the sound, he moved cautiously, knowing it was not necessarily safe. The sound came again, a weak barking. Bruiser. Jake arrowed in to where the sound was coming from, leading him to a denser thicket of stunted pine trees. “Bruiser?” Jake called softly.

Bruiser barked back.Jake put his gun away, reached out to push away some of the lower branches. Bruiser yelped again, emerging out of the center of the trees.He was limping on one paw, but seemed otherwise unharmed.“Come here,” Jake called softly. He’d never been so happy to see his dog.Bruiser walked forward, accepting Jake’s hug.The dog stood patiently while Jake examined him for wounds.Aside from the front paw, which seemed to have been hurt somehow, there were no other injuries.But Bruiser’s coat showed a stain on the side, and Jake sucked in a quick breath. Blood. Not the dog’s blood, but someone else’s.Callie’s?

“Bruiser, what happened?” Jake asked, expecting no response.The dog gave a small whine, and pulled away. Jake let him go, and the dog ran about five feet, then stopped to look back at Jake. He reached for his gun again, and followed the dog.

Bruiser led him deeper into the woods, away from the driveway and toward the main road.Jake got more and more worried as they went, a slow cold burning starting in his stomach and moving up.What if he found Callie? Hurt, or…he didn’t allow himself to think about it.Bruiser continued to move, stopping to sniff a dark stain on the ground before going on.Jake saw the blood on the ground and instinctively tightened his grip on the gun.

Bruiser gave a short bark then, and Jake sighted a body on the ground.But as he hurried up to it, he stopped in shock.

“Ty?” He blinked, feeling like the world had just slid out of place.

The shape twisted and groaned a bit when Bruiser ran up and nudged it.

“Ty, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Right now? Bleeding.”

“What happened?How did you end up here? I have to get you to a hospital.” Jake took another step nearer.

“Or a bar,” Ty managed. It was the edge of sarcasm in that one line that convinced Jake he was really seeing his old friend. Galvanized, he darted forward, ready to give first aid. His training came back to him when he knelt down, surveying the wound in Ty’s side.

“Is this the only one?” he asked, as he put aside Ty’s hand, now slick with blood, and covered the wound with his own. He applied pressure, watching the other man’s reaction.

“Yeah,” Ty gasped. “It just winged my side, really. I’ll be fine.”

“What happened?”

“They took Callie.” Ty got straight to the point. Details could wait.

Jake couldn’t stop his voice from choking. “Who took her?”

“Foster’s men. They went out of their way not to hurt her. I think they’ve got plans for her.”

“Can you walk?” Jake asked, to distract himself from thinking what “plans” Foster might have. “I can drive you to the clinic.”

“I can walk. Skip the clinic. If you’ve got the right supplies, just get me into the house.” With Jake’s help, he managed to stagger to his feet. Jake slipped an arm under him and they made their way to the house, Bruiser in the lead.

“I can’t believe all the bullet holes I’m dealing with these past few days,” Jake muttered.

“There’s a few more in your house, man. Those guys might have been told not to kill Callie, but they were none too careful with anyone else.”

It was true. Jake remembered the one shattered window on the side of the house, and he knew there would be more.

He opened the front door and got Ty inside to the kitchen. Ty pressed his hand to the wound again, grimacing. Jake hurried to get the first aid box he always kept in his closet. He hoped his friend wasn’t bluffing about his injury for old time’s sake. When Jake returned, though, he saw Ty had managed to remove his shirt and was already running the faucet so he could clean the wound.

“Let me do that,” he said, peering at the wound. Ty hadn’t been lying. The bullet had only grazed his side, causing a lot of bleeding, which looked bad. But the bullet had not hit any organs, and the flow of blood had already slowed considerably.

It took only a minute for Jake to clean the wound and tape a makeshift bandage over it. Ty nodded thanks, and even smiled. “Like old times.”

“A little too much.” Jake looked over at him, wondering how he’d gotten there at all. “You came all the way from LA?”

Ty nodded as he wound more gauze around his torso to hold the bandage more securely. “I looked through some of the old Narc files, and I kept finding more things out about Foster. You’re right, there’s never been a single witness that ever testified against him. They all either refused to go forward, or died before the trial date. Then, when he couldn’t be tracked down for routine questioning yesterday, I got a bad feeling. I got a flight to Missoula, then rented a car and drove here. Thought I’d find you and get a plan going so we could figure out a way to keep this Calista alive and well. Instead, I walked straight into this mess.”

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