Second Chances (23 page)

Dusty rolled
his eyes.

“Speaking
of kids, maybe you should sit down and tell us all about April.”

His
cell rang, interrupting at a perfect time. Checking his caller ID, he answered.
“Hey Evan.”

“Dusty.
What are you up to today?”

“Talking
to the parents, actually.”

“Ouch.”
Evan chuckled. “They were here for the past couple of days breathing down our
necks. About time you had your fair share.”

“Gee
thanks. Now, what did you need?” Dusty met his father’s knowing gaze and
shrugged. They all loved Evan, but he could certainly be a thorn in everyone’s
side from time to time.

“Just
wondering if you’ve moved on yet so I can have my shot with April.”

“Not
happening, bro.” Dusty sighed. Evan called seemingly every other day to ask the
same question. He truly doubted Evan was that infatuated with April and most
likely inquired just to either yank his chain or to be nosey on the status of
his relationship with the little nurse. Neither option earned him any brownie
points.

“Well,
hell.”

“Go
sniff elsewhere.”

Evan
blew out a breath. “So, are you bringing her for Thanksgiving?”

“Maybe.
I haven’t thought much about it, yet.” He hadn’t considered the traditional
get-together at all. Hell, he’d just gotten back into a routine after the worst
fire in forty years. Three months away sounded like forever at this stage.

“Okay.
If you decide you don’t want her, I get first dibs.” Evan sounded like he could
barely keep the humor from his voice.

Dusty
shook his head. “Go find your own woman, pest.” With that, he clicked off.

Turning,
he found the eyes of his parents locked on him. Each of them smiling like a
Cheshire cat. He smelled a set up. “What?”

“Did
you hear that, John?”

“I sure
did. Dusty’s not willing to share, not even hand-me-downs.” His father shot him
a knowing look.

Dusty
groaned.
Just great
.
Why me?
More importantly, why weren’t
his parents back at the ranch bugging the rest of his brothers about their
social lives? He had enough issues of his own without two strong willed
matchmakers right on his heels. Come to think of it, when did his tough,
no-nonsense attorney father turn into Cupid? Must be his mother’s romantic
notions rubbing off from being together night and day for the past few years.

“Think
he’s twitterpated?” his mother asked.

“Oh,
definitely.”

Twitterpated? Well, shit.
“I don’t think you’ve seen the
house part yet.” Dusty strode through the door, more than eager to change
scenery as well as topics.

Life
was so much simpler alone.

But a hell of a lot more mundane
too.

“This
is nice.” His mother turned a full circle taking in the small home attached to
the stable. A far cry from the mansion they built and still live in from time
to time.

“Smart
design. Keeps you close to the horses so if anything is awry, you’d know about
it quick,” his father pointed out.

“It
works for me.” Dusty observed their reactions carefully. No grimaces, no
frowns. Simply curiosity and earnest attention.

He’d
worried what they’d think about his living accommodations considering the way
they raised him. Wealth bought them luxury, which they passed down to their
sons. However, Dusty ventured down a different path, learned basic necessities
were sometimes a blessing, and preferred to leave the showcases for the rich
and famous. Contentment radiated from his stable and he had no intention of
returning to his previous, misspent life. Sure, the gap between him and his
family had been sealed, a definite positive in the recent weeks. However, he’d
figured out exactly how much the land, his land, called to him during his days
away.

He
opened the door to the stable and ushered his parents through. “What would you
like to see next?”

“I—”

His
cell phone chimed at the same time the radio announcer broke in. “We have
breaking news. There’s been a shooting at a convenience store in Jackson
Station. The school is on lockdown. Three Points Hospital across the street
from the scene of the crime is also on lockdown. The suspect was last seen
running down a neighborhood street with a female hostage in tow. He’s
considered armed and dangerous. Please call police if you have any
information.”

The
text alert basically said the same thing. Dusty blew out a breath. “Three
Points Hospital. April.”

Jackson
Station was still a small town, fairly rural as well, compared to bigger places
like Boulder City. With a miniscule budget, the police couldn’t afford more
than a chief and a handful of part-time cops, with nothing to spare for
luxuries like a SWAT Team or even a police dog. They’d have already called for
backup and a dog, but with everyone traveling from the nearest base location of
Boulder City, forty minutes away, the hostage could be long dead before they
arrived. Hell, the tango could be long gone as well.

Dusty
spun on his heel and re-entered his home. Opening his closet, he pulled out a
long bag, unzipped it, and quickly checked all the parts of the rifle were
intact. Satisfied, he pulled a small handgun from under his pillow, tugged up
his pant leg, then placed the gun in the holster just above his ankle.

He
yanked his Kevlar vest from the closet and slipped the protective device on,
feeling a sense of nostalgia and security with his torso covering. His SIG
remained as always in his shoulder holster. He never stepped outside without
the weapon. Not that he imagined using the gun much in the normally quiet town,
but he honestly felt vulnerable and naked without it.

His
mother’s gasp carried across the room.

He
finished gathering his weapons, then stood to meet his parents’ curious and
worried expressions.

“What
are you going to do?”

He met
his father’s eyes. “Go hunting. Stay here. I should be back soon.”

“But…”

“Come
on, Ben. We’ve got a job to do.” The dog, almost as if sensing the seriousness,
trotted at his side. Partners to the marrow.

Without
another word, he strode toward his truck.

Driving
up to a police blockade, Dusty pulled off slightly to the side, waiting for the
sheriff to notice him. Sam turned from the first vehicle in line, glanced
Dusty’s direction, then strode over.

Grim
worry covered Sam’s face. “I was hoping you’d show up.”

“What’s
up?”

“Shooter
tried to rob the convenience store. One of my off duty officers was inside at
the time. He drew on the guy, but took a hit before he could do any damage. The
manager was also shot. Perp grabbed the clerk as a hostage and ran. We haven’t
seen or heard anything from him since.”

Dusty
studied the nearly chaotic scene in front of him as people gathered around,
media pulled in, and the few local cops tried to keep everyone at bay while
presumably also searching for the man responsible. A challenging task for a
force three times the size of Jackson Station.

“With
all the houses around here and the woods, he could be anywhere. From what Tom
said, the guy’s armed to the teeth and has a death wish.”

“The
wounded…”

“Manager
is critical. Tom will survive but be out of commission for a while.” Sam
scowled. “If he gets into a business or house, he’ll make a big splash just to
show he can.”

“Then
I’d better get on it.”

“Consider
yourself deputized. Whatever you can do, go for it. I’ve got your back. I want
this guy before he takes out half the town or worse, finds a way into a place
with a lot of innocent people. Trent will say the same. He mentioned giving you
a call, but you beat us both to it.” Trent held the police chief position in
the small town of Jackson Station. Another former Army member, he’d spent his
fair share of time overseas as well. Dusty counted him as one of the few
friends he’d made since moving to town.

Sam met
Dusty’s gaze. “I called for the tracking dog, but the K9 unit is two counties
over. It’ll be a while before they can arrive.”

“Got
anything that smells like the guy for Ben to sniff?”

“Not
really. But, you’re more than welcome to start at the store. Jerry’s guarding
it. I’ll radio ahead and let him know you’ll start there.”

“Keep
your men away. I work best alone.”

“I’m
coming with you.”

Dusty
frowned, but shrugged. Sam’s county, his responsibility. He much preferred to
work with just Ben, or at most, with a special ops team covering his six. Sam
spent some time in the Army, which boosted him above an average cop. Too bad he
didn’t reach the highly trained top ranks.

At
least with the sheriff along, he’d be spared a dozen questions afterward.
“Don’t slow me down.”

“Not a
bit.” Sam patted the top of Dusty’s door. “I’ll meet you at the store in a
minute.”

Dusty
parked his truck further down a small gravel side road, lifted Ben out, and
quickly put together his sniper rifle. Within seconds, he jogged the short
distance to the corner, located Jerry, and stepped into the store. “Ben. Scent.”
The commands were issued in German, the language Ben learned to listen for and
obey as a pup. Anytime he heard the language, he turned intensely serious as if
he realized the game of find and seek had deadly implications.

The
Belgian Malinois sniffed around the area, nose to the floor. Dusty pointed out
a trail to the door, then out. Sam stepped forward, his gun still in the
holster at his waist. Dusty spared him a glance, before focusing back on Ben.
“Track.”

Ben
lifted his nose and started loping, his head up, but dipping now and again to
double-check the trail. Just like Ben had done in Afghanistan, he followed the
culprit with intense focus. He didn’t bark. He didn’t look around. Instead, he
stuck with a winding path through yards, around outbuildings, and finally into
the wooded section.

Suddenly,
Ben picked up speed, his tail straight out like a rudder.

Their
tango was close. Too close for the sniper rifle. Dusty pulled out his SIG nine
millimeter and pointed the barrel at the sky. He noted Sam followed suit, his
weapon at the ready, staying right behind him every step of the way. Anything
within fifty yards would fall into his range. Over that, he’d shift back to the
rifle.

Dusty
collected the dog and slowed his pace. Dashing in without visual contact
bordered on stupidity. He needed to scope out the situation, and then formulate
a plan of action. The hostage’s life depended on it. Ben’s life depended on it.
The dog would obey his every command, even die in an attempt to bring down the
tango. Dusty wasn’t about to let that happen.

Grass
squished under his boots, but didn’t make a single sound as he worked his way
from bush to tree to rock, always searching, always considering his next move
to a protective position.

A
woman’s cry blasted across the area. Dusty moved steadily closer, Ben right at
his side, his ears pricked. Finally, he caught a glimpse of movement, and
circled around for a better angle. Gesturing to the east, he pointed out their
target. Sam nodded.

Approximately
twenty meters away a grubby man dressed in jeans and a hoodie held the short
dark haired woman with a tight grip on her upper arm. Definitely more than hard
enough to leave bruises. The tango turned this way and that, constantly looking
over his shoulder as he growled orders to the nearly hysterical woman.

“Shut
up. One more sound from you and I’ll kill you on the spot.” He waved his
handgun in her face, before aiming back at the way they had come.

A
nervous man with a weapon made for a dangerous man with a weapon. Most likely
he’d pull the trigger at a moment’s notice just from excitement. Dusty watched
for an instant more, then fell into old habits.

Calm
and cool determination washed over him. He’d been in this same sort of
situation more than once. They always ended the same way when the SEALs were
involved. Carefully, he laid his rifle on the ground, needing only his handgun
for this particular task.

For an
instant, he debated giving the guy a chance. On military missions, SEALs moved
in, killed with precision, and disappeared under the cover of darkness, few the
wiser. However, this wasn’t a military mission and the local cops tended to be
a bit softer in their dealings with criminals. Thus, he’d let the man make his
own choice, already knowing what it would be.

He
nodded toward Sam. “Go ahead and warn him.”

“Police.
Drop the gun. Release the woman. Get on the ground. Now. Or I’ll send the dog
in.” Sam poured authority and command into his words.

The
tango swung around, drawing a whimper from his hostage as he yanked hard on
her, sending her nearly stumbling. “I’ll kill her. I swear I will.” He used her
body as a shield, but their differences in height left his head an easy target.

“Drop.
The. Gun. Now,” Dusty barked out. “
Angreifen
.”

Ben
surged out of the cover, barking wildly, as he sped toward the couple.

Dusty
stepped out as well, his gun sighted on the man. Purposely, he put himself in a
vulnerable position, giving the man an opportunity to take his shot and to
divert attention from a charging Ben.

Everything
happened in a blur. The man fired at him, then shoved the gun against the
woman’s head and screamed at the fast approaching dog. The bullet slammed into
a nearby tree. Dusty pulled the trigger. Once.

The man
collapsed just as Ben arrived, sinking his teeth in the man’s leg and shaking
with all his strength. The woman screamed and hurried out of the line of fire,
only to stop and stare at the unmoving body. Her hand covered her mouth as a
flood of tears began to fall in earnest.

“
Ben freilessen. Kommen
.” He called Ben
back as he walked closer. He didn’t doubt the man had breathed his last, but he
needed to check. A single glance told him the answer. No one could survive such
a traumatic head wound.

Sam
approached and shared a look with Dusty. Awe flashed through his eyes.

He turned
his attention to the woman. She appeared fairly unhurt, though quite shaken.
“Miss? Are you all right?”

Her
gaze lifted from the dead man to him, then to the sheriff. Panic mixed with
astounded relief covered her face. “I…thank you.”

“If
you’ll come with me, ma’am, we’ll get you back.” Sam held out his hand.

She
wrapped her arms around her middle and began walking. Dusty followed, pausing
long enough to pet and praise Ben and to collect his rifle, letting the other
man run the show from here on out.

They
had barely covered one hundred meters when a couple of deputies hurried over.
Their stares took in first Dusty, and then the woman.

Sam
tilted his head in indication of their back trail. “Suspect down just over the
small rise. Call the coroner and get a clean-up crew. And, Tyler, please take
Miss Clarice. She’ll need to get checked out. I think a cup of coffee might be
in order as well.”

“Yes,
sir.” Tyler held out his arm and spoke softly to the woman, leading her away.

Sam
blew out a long breath. “Damn.”

Dusty
watched her go, knowing her nightmare wasn’t nearly over yet. Emotional scars
run far too deep to ever forget.

“Why
did you step out in the open? Shocked the shit out of me.” Sam turned toward
him, having long since holstered his weapon.

“He
would’ve shot the hostage and my dog. He was nervous, in a corner. I figured
his shot would miss due to adrenaline surge and wasn’t about to take a chance
on that bastard killing them both.”

“So you
put yourself in his sights as a distraction?” Sam’s voice rose with disbelief.

“Yeah.”
Ben leaned against Dusty’s legs. Reaching down, he rubbed the dog’s head, as
proud of him as he’d always been. Despite Ben’s advanced age, he still
performed at a high level, more than up to the task for today’s crisis.

Sam
looked at Ben, and lifted his gaze. “You
sure
I can’t talk you into working for me?”

Dusty
shook his head with a grim smile. “No thanks. Now and again in a pinch, I don’t
mind helping out. But, the stable keeps me too busy.” Not to mention he’d
retired from active duty for a reason. The last thing he wanted to do now was
sit in a patrol car all day, chase down speeders, and watch all his hard work
catching real criminals fly out the window as they received a slap on the hand
and were released back into the community.
Too
little reward, too much red tape. No way.

“Understood.”
Yet another cop appeared, spoke to Sam, then dashed off. Sam sighed wearily. “I
hate press conferences.”

“Don’t
blame you a bit.”

Sam
shook Dusty’s hand and pinned his gaze. “I’m putting you in for a medal.”

“No.”

“You
deserve something, Dusty. Shit, you did what a dozen cops couldn’t do in record
time. Think of the lives that you potentially saved.”

“No.”
Dusty added emphasis to the adamant rejection. SEALs didn’t like public
attention and never truly felt comfortable with a big fuss after doing their
jobs, much preferring to remain in the shadows and slip away unheralded.

“You
SEALs are all the same.”

For the
first time since the radio announced the event, Dusty grinned with humor. “Once
a SEAL, always a SEAL.” With that said, he picked up Ben, loaded him in the
truck, and climbed in.

Sam
shook his head. “You guys saved my ass in Iraq. Now today. I can never thank
you enough.”

“You
just did.” Dusty slipped the key in the ignition, cranked the motor, and pulled
onto the street headed for the nearby hospital.

He
needed to check on April, assure himself she was fit and fine, and then bring
her home. His home. Maybe for good.

“Thirsty,
huh? Well, you’ve earned it and more.” Dusty watched Ben drink from the bowl he
kept in the truck. He’d poured a full bottle of halfway cool water into the
container earlier, only for the dog to suck the level nearly empty. Refilling,
Dusty patted Ben’s head and sighed.

He sat
in the parking lot of the hospital. While probably still on lockdown, they
would receive word soon enough the danger had passed. In the meantime, due to
the overnight rains and heavy cloud cover, the temperature wasn’t awful while
sitting with the windows down. The light breeze stirred now and again, adding
to the more temperate day.

His
thoughts turned to April. If the suspect had run into the hospital, started
firing, or even chosen her for a hostage… The thought jarred him even as his
gut constricted at the thought of April injured, scared, or in the slightest
bit of danger. Protective instincts surged to the fore, pushing other minor
issues to the bottom of the totem pole.
I’ll
kill any man who dares hurt her.

The
truthful words stuck like superglue.

Why April? Why now?
The questions brushed through
his mind even as his soul warmed contentedly. His track record with women left
much to be desired and he sent Colette on her way only a couple weeks earlier.
Yet, April remained, maybe not quite as flashy or outgoing as some of the
others, but she possessed an inner goodness and toughness that put the rest of
the women to shame. In essence, she’d stumbled into his life, made the sun
shine brighter, soothed his inner turmoil, and stepped up not only with the
workload, but in understanding. He could spend a decade or three searching for
someone like her and still end up empty-handed.