Hell for Leather (Black Knights Inc. #6)(54)
“You’re a good boy,” Delilah whispered over and over again, uncaring of the tears trickling down her cheeks, leaving dirty trails in the dust covering her face. Fido whined pitifully, but the tip of his tail wagged despite the terrible pain he was in. And, sure as shit, that was a tear in Mac’s eye. Damnit!
The Lab reminded him of his father’s old ranch dog. Dutch had been his name. And he’d studiously kept the coyotes away from Lazy M cattle for fifteen long years. He’d been a big, rangy canine just like Fido here. But where Fido was happy-go-lucky, Dutch had been about as friendly as a bramble bush. Still, there was nothing quite so satisfying as owning a good dog. And nothing quite so heartbreaking as watching a good dog die.
“Wh-what happened?” Delilah asked, her eyes wide when she glanced up at him. “Where’d he go?”
And Mac knew she was asking about Mr. Timberlands.
“Don’t you worry about it,” he told her. “Zoelner and Ozzie have gone after him.” Though, the longer the minutes stretched out with no sound to break the stillness of the neighborhood, the more concerned he became. The only reason the BKI boys would be in stealth mode was if they’d lost the guy and were now quietly hunting him.
“Give me your keys!” he heard Steady demand and looked up in time to see him standing in the middle of the yard, holding a hand toward Agent Duvall. Mac had forgotten all about her. “If I can get the dog’s bleeding stopped,” Steady lifted the medical bag gripped tight in his other fist, “he might just make it to the closest vet. But I’m gonna need your car.”
Chelsea nodded and dug into the hip pocket of her slacks, all the while barking instructions into her earpiece and never taking her eyes off the screen of her iPad. After retrieving a key ring and tossing it to Steady, she jogged with him toward Mac and Delilah and the injured dog.
“Okay,” Steady said, dropping down beside them. He reached into his camo duffel bag and came out with a pack of QuikClot. “Now when I say go, I want you guys to remove my shirt and hold the dog down. When I shake this shit into his wound, it’s gonna burn like hell.”
Mac saw Delilah nod hastily, tears standing a quarter-inch thick on her lower lids. But she was holding steady, by God. Again, the thought she sure is something whispered through his head. But he didn’t have time to dwell on it, because Steady ripped the foil case of biological sealant open with his teeth, spit out the fragment of packaging, and said, “Go!”
They tossed the T-shirt aside—Holy crow, there’s a lot of blood—and threw themselves over the dog. Delilah held Fido’s rear end in place; Mac kept the pooch’s front legs and head under control.
Steady was quick on the draw, pouring the powder into Fido’s wound. But besides a low whimper, the dog did nothing to fight them. In fact, he went so far as to lick Mac’s hand. And damned if that tear in Mac’s eye didn’t up and decide to spill over.
Thankfully, more were stopped from joining the fun when he heard Agent Duvall bark, “Patch me over to Agent Zoelner’s number! Now!”
“What’s up?” he asked, looking away from Fido’s wound only after he noted with gratification that the QuikClot was working. The bleeding had instantly slowed. Fido certainly wasn’t out of the woods. But now, at least, they’d given the fearless animal a fighting chance.
“We’ve got thermal imagery of the guy,” the CIA agent relayed, keeping one hand on her earpiece, listening intently to whatever was happening on the other end. “And I need to let Z know which house he’s hiding in.”
Mac nodded, turning his attention back to the dog.
“Help me lift him,” Steady said, bending to get both hands under the animal. “Careful, now. Mierda! We don’t want to jostle that wound.”
Mac and Delilah helped Steady stand, the canine cradled gently in his arms. Fido whined weakly but still managed to bathe Steady’s face with his long, pink tongue. And unless Mac was mistaken, the medic’s eyes were unusually bright.
Yep, the Knights may deal with and deal out death on a daily basis, a bunch of hard-nosed, hard-hearted operators, but hand them one dumb-as-dirt, critically injured dog, and they all turned into big bags of mush…
“Okay,” Steady grunted once he’d taken all of Fido’s weight, clearing his throat. “I’ve got him. I’ll get him to the nearest vet.” He turned to Mac. “You keep me informed of what’s going on here, hermano.”
“I’m going with Steady,” Delilah declared, rubbing the back of her hand over her cheek, smudging her tears and the dust on her face in a long line as she bent down to grab Steady’s medical bag.
“No.” Mac snagged her wrist when she turned to follow Steady’s careful steps, noting the soothing warmth of her skin against his callused fingers. Crack cocaine. Pure and simple…
“What?” She turned to him, brow puckered. “Why?”
“Because until we have Mr. Timberlands in custody, and until I know what the hell is goin’ on around here, I’m not lettin’ you outta my sight.”
When she jerked out of his grip to catch up with the medic, Mac thought he might have a fight on his hands. But then she swung back to him, shouting, “I’m just going to help him to the car!” She lifted the camo duffel bag. God love her. Another wave of relief crashed over Mac, and he figured it was a wonder he wasn’t drowning in the stuff.