The Protector (Game of Chance, #1)(83)

“I have to go,” he told JJ.

“Go. We’re on our way. Be careful. I don’t want you to have survived those assholes overseas, only to be taken down by some woman who’s not right in the head.”

“Ten-four. Later.”

JJ hung up without another word. Chappy tucked the phone into the inner pocket of his jacket and headed for the door. “Find her, Baxter. Find Carlise.” Then he opened the door.

The dog leaped outside like a shot. He frantically sniffed around the cabin, obviously trying to pick up Carlise’s scent. He headed for the SUV parked in front of the cabin and put his front paws on the passenger seat.

Then he jumped down and took off into the woods.

“Shit! Hang on, Baxter! Wait for me!”

But the dog wasn’t waiting for anyone. Chappy ran after the pit bull, catching glimpses of him as they weaved in and out of the trees.

The silence all around him was eerie. Usually there were birds chirping, the wind blowing through the trees, some sort of noise. But after the thunder of the avalanche, it was as if the forest was holding its breath.

The lack of sound felt like a heavy blanket on Chappy’s shoulders. He’d rather hear Carlise shouting for help. Something. Anything indicating she was still alive.

“Carlise?” he called out as he ran.

The only thing he heard in return was more oppressive silence. As he followed Baxter through the trees, he prayed the dog knew where he was going.

He’d been running for several minutes when he finally saw them—footprints in the snow. Because of the warmer weather, a lot of the snow had melted, but not all of it. The prints in the snow lifted his spirits. Carlise had gone this way. He’d bet his life on it.

Was betting her life on it.

He saw two sets of prints, and based on the spacing, both people had been running. He assumed Susie had been chasing Carlise, and his resolve hardened. Best friend or not, she was going down. He’d make sure Carlise pressed charges and the woman was put away for as long as possible.

He wouldn’t even entertain the idea that Carlise wasn’t all right. That her friend might have done something drastic.

Chappy ran until the prints stopped. He lost their trail when the relatively flat area he’d been running through changed drastically. There was now a mountain of snow in his path. Snow and rocks from the avalanche.

Carlise and her pursuer had run straight into the path of the slide.

His gut twisted as he stared at the tons of snow that had fallen down the side of Baldpate Mountain.

He heard a bark, and Chappy looked up. Baxter was standing on top of the snow, staring back at him.

Chappy could take out a terrorist at fifty yards. He knew how to kill someone with his bare hands. He’d been tortured and hadn’t let even a moan of pain pass his lips. But this . . .

Knowing his Carlise had possibly been caught in an avalanche was more than he could handle. He couldn’t have fixed this, even if he’d been by her side. Couldn’t have held back tons of snow to protect her.

And right now, he couldn’t do anything but pray she’d somehow been far away from this position on the mountain when the snow had come crashing down.

Baxter barked again, repeatedly this time.

If the dog wanted him to follow, that’s what Chappy would do. It was possible Baxter could lead him over the snow to the other side, where he’d maybe pick up Carlise’s trail again.

The massive snowbank was as tall as Chappy, and he grunted with the effort it took to haul himself to the top. He followed Baxter . . .

But to his utter dismay, the dog stopped about halfway across the wide swath of snow—and began to dig.

“Shit!” Chappy cried, going to his knees beside the dog, digging with his bare hands. If Carlise was under the snow, he needed to get to her as soon as possible. She could be suffocating!

“No,” Chappy said out loud, digging faster. His hands quickly went numb. The rocks and ice tore at his flesh, but he didn’t feel the pain. All he could think about was getting to Carlise.

He didn’t know how long he’d been digging, but it had to have been thirty minutes or more when he slowly sat back on his haunches and blew out an anguished breath.

It had been too long. If Carlise was under there, she was dead. There was no way she could survive without oxygen for as long as he’d been digging.

“Baxter,” he said brokenly.

The dog ignored him, still trying to dig deeper into the snow.

“Stop, Bax,” he tried again. “She’s gone.”

But he didn’t even pause. His paws were bleeding, just like Chappy’s fingers, but the tenacity of the dog never waned.

Not wanting him to hurt himself any more than he already had, Chappy reached out to grab his collar. To his surprise, Baxter growled.

Chappy immediately let go, not wanting to get bitten on top of the hell that had already become his reality in the last hour.

As soon as he released the dog’s collar, Baxter went right back to digging. They’d made some progress, the hole they’d been working on was a couple of feet deep now, but from what Chappy could tell, they still had at least four feet or more of snow and ice and rocks to get through before they reached the ground.

He sat back on his heels and watched Baxter for a moment longer. Then he tilted his head back and stared up at the blue sky. Tears filled his eyes, and he let them fall.