Playing Dirty (Risky Business, #2)(69)

“Oh, your father got a wild hair—you know how he is sometimes—and decided he wanted to go visit his uncle Louie.”

“So you’re in New Jersey?”

“For the time being. Probably only for a few more days,” she said. “So why don’t you go home? Rita will cook for you and you’ll have the whole place to yourselves.”

“ ‘Yourselves’?” I repeated.

“Well, for goodness’ sake, make sure you take Parker,” she said in an are-you-an-idiot tone. “Now, are you going to go? Or do I have to use my mom voice?”

I kinda thought she was already using her mom voice, but agreed anyway. “Okay, we’ll go,” I said. “Just … don’t tell Dad until you get back, okay?”

She gave a heavy sigh. “All right. Call me tomorrow.”

“Will do. Love you.”

“Love you, too, dear. And I’m thankful, very thankful, that you’re all right.”

I hung up feeling a little warmer and fuzzier. Moms tended to have that effect, I supposed.

I packed while I waited for Parker, my spirits a little better to think of going home rather than staying at Ryker’s house, sans Ryker.

Ryker.

Crap. What would he do when he found out I wasn’t here? Would he be worried? Think the worst? Probably.

I hesitated, staring at my cell. “Screw it,” I muttered, picking it up and hitting the button I’d programmed for Malone, Ryker’s partner.

“Hey, it’s Sage,” I said. “Ryker’s girlfriend.”

“Oh yeah, hey. How’re you doing?” he asked.

“I’m okay, but … I really need to see Ryker.” I hesitated. “He said I should call you if it was an emergency, that you’d know where he was.”

“I do,” he said. “But it’s dangerous. Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t be calling if I weren’t.”

“Okay,” he said with a sigh, then rattled off an address, which I quickly jotted down.

“Thank you,” I said. “I swear, it’ll be quick.”

Suddenly, McClane began to growl. I whipped around to look at the dog, who was staring down the hall. His ears flattened on his head and his teeth bared. The growling grew louder.

“Oh God,” I whispered. “Someone’s in the house.”





CHAPTER FOURTEEN


Send the police,” I hissed at Malone. “I’ve gotta go.” I hung up. There was nothing he could do anyway, and a phone in my hand would only hamper me.

Shoving the phone in my pocket, I wrapped a fist around McClane’s collar. His growl was deep in his throat, but he quieted. The hair was standing up on his back and his obvious alarm made a cold flood of adrenaline rush through my veins.

I took a few careful steps forward. McClane stayed at my side, pressed against my legs. The floor creaked underneath my feet and I froze.

A man walked around the corner.

“There you are,” he said with a smile. “Easiest job ever.”

He raised a gun, pointing it at me, and I stopped breathing.

McClane leapt at him, teeth snapping and growling. His jaws fastened around the man’s wrist as the gun went off. The bullet went wide and I watched in horror as McClane attacked the man with vicious intent. Panic and fear flooded me and I remembered what Parker had said.

It only takes one bullet to stop a dog.

The dog was going insane and the guy was fighting him tooth and nail. He cried out in pain and I saw the red stain of blood.

The only way out was past them and I tried to squeeze past the melee of dog and man fighting in the hallway, but a hand wrapped around my ankle and jerked. I fell hard to the floor, my knees and elbows slamming onto the hardwood. The breath rushed out of me in a huff. We hit the wall and something fell, glass splintering into a thousand pieces.

In desperation, I kicked back and must have hit him because I heard a grunt. McClane was still going berserk and I crawled forward on my hands and knees to scramble to my feet.

Rushing to the front door, I yanked it open, grabbing the truck keys from the table. “McClane! Come!” I had no idea if he’d obey me, but sure enough, he did and we bolted outside.

I ran for the truck. McClane needed no command to jump inside, and I followed. Seconds later, the engine roared to life and I slammed it into reverse. Thank God there was no one behind me because I didn’t even look before backing up. I glanced in the rearview mirror as we sped down the street and saw the man standing in the doorway, watching us.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” I said aloud. My hands were shaking and I just wanted to pull over and have a nervous breakdown, but I was too scared to stop.

I reached out, needing some kind of reassurance, and buried my fingers in McClane’s fur. He whined a little and I glanced over.

“Oh no!” There was blood on him.

I skidded the truck to a halt on the side of the road and shoved it in park. “McClane, c’mere.” I ran my hands over him and that’s when I saw it. He’d been cut somehow, from the glass maybe, and it was deep, his fur matted with blood. I had to get him to the vet. But where?

Pulling out my phone, I Googled for vets nearby, then shoved the truck back into gear. Following the map on my phone with one hand, I drove to the nearest veterinary clinic. McClane put his head down on the seat.