K-9 Defence. Elizabeth Heiter
had been grabbed by a guy like Danny, it was probably already too late to save her.
The errant thought left a bitter taste in his mouth and he shoved back the inevitable memories that followed, of the last moments he’d seen the brothers he’d loved. Brothers he would have traded his own life for if he could have.
He prayed Kensie wouldn’t have to live with the same grief.
“So, the store,” he said, trying to clear the fog that always threatened whenever he thought about that day, his last day in the military. “Tell me what you know.”
She glanced his way, her beautiful eyes clearing, like this was the distraction she needed, too. “Not much. Apparently the owner found it in a stack of money. The chief of police told me Jasper didn’t know who’d left it there, but I’m thinking we can ask him about everyone who came in that day. Or maybe he’ll recognize me. My sister might still resemble me.”
Her last words were full of hope and wistfulness, and he tried to remember how cold she’d told him the case was. “You said she disappeared fourteen years ago?”
“Yeah. She’d be nineteen now.”
“How old were you when—”
“When she was kidnapped?” Kensie finished. “I was thirteen.”
She didn’t offer any more, so Colter let the silence remain, let Rebel take up the task of relaxing Kensie. His dog seemed more than up for it, leaning between the seats and practically hanging her head in Kensie’s lap.
“I think she likes me,” Kensie said, amusement in her tone.
“Yeah, she transitioned better into civilian life than I did. I think she’d be friends with everyone if she could.”
It wasn’t totally true. Like most dogs, she seemed to have an innate sense of who she could trust. But she definitely would like it if he’d let more people into his life, give her someone else to spoil her.
Kensie laughed as Rebel nuzzled even closer, her front feet practically in the seat with them now. “Well, thanks for making an exception and being my friend.”
Was that what he’d done? He let the idea rattle around in his brain as they pulled up to the store out in a little strip of shops off the beaten path. Yeah, he guessed it was. He’d saved her life, she’d seen his home, and he cared about what happened to her. Plus, he sympathized over what happened to her sister. A year after leaving the military, he’d made his first new friend. As much as he liked Kensie, it left him unsettled.
“Let’s go see what we can get out of Jasper.” As he spoke the words, a familiar determination filled him, one he’d prayed wouldn’t return. The feeling of a mission.
Instantly, his chest tightened and breathing seemed more difficult. The doctors at the VA hospital had told him the PTSD might always be with him. Sometimes it would be flashbacks, other times panic attacks or nightmares. They said he needed to learn to recognize the triggers and manage his response. But that was easier said than done.
Rebel’s head swung toward him, her ears twitching. The first few months after he’d gotten out, there were times when something as simple as a branch snapping would send him right back onto that battlefield and the first crack of the sniper rifle. And he wasn’t the only one; more than once, he’d found Rebel cowering in the bathtub during a thunderstorm. Or she’d leap on him, trying to protect him from a car backfiring, and re-aggravate both of their injuries.
Rebel knew exactly what was happening right now. But he didn’t want Kensie to see his weakness, so he flung open the truck door and practically fell out of it.
The cold air shocked his system, filling his lungs and stopping the spasms in his chest. He clenched and unclenched his fists, a trick he’d learned at the hospital accidentally. It helped ground him, give him control over one small thing.
By the time Rebel leaped to the ground beside him and Kensie hurried around the truck, he felt back in control.
She squinted at him. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Let’s do this.” It was something he’d always say to Rebel when they were about to track a scent. It came out now without thought, but instead of provoking another attack, it straightened his shoulders and filled him with strength.
Beside him, Rebel seemed to strain forward, even though she was always off leash. She sensed a new mission as much as he did. Unlike him, she seemed truly ready.
Thank goodness her injury hadn’t fully healed.
The selfish thought hit unexpectedly. But if Rebel had healed while he hadn’t, she would have been back at war, assigned to a new soldier. The only reason he’d gotten to keep her was that the huge piece of metal that had gone straight through his leg had also pierced her. Neither of them would ever be a hundred percent whole again. Which meant the military didn’t want them anymore.
“Okay,” Kensie said, obviously not realizing the dark place where his thoughts had traveled. She strode up the snowy walkway toward the store.
He followed, trying not to be distracted by the subtle sway of her hips under her parka. Rebel trotted along beside him, ready for the kind of action she’d been trained to handle.
As soon as they walked through the door, a bell dinged and Jasper Starn glared their way. With his chrome-silver hair slicked back on his head and his dark skin over-weathered by the Alaskan wind, he could have been anywhere between sixty and a hundred. He’d lived somewhere on the outskirts of Desparre and run this store for as long as anyone in town seemed to remember. And he was possibly the crankiest store owner Colter had ever met.
When they approached him instead of walking around the store, Jasper looked them up and down like he was cataloguing places they might be hiding weapons, then grunted.
Seemingly not put off by the less than cordial welcome, Kensie gave him a wide smile. It didn’t seem to do much for Jasper’s mood, but dang if it didn’t make Colter feel a little lighter.
“I’m Kensie Morgan.”
His lips pursed, but he made no other sign he’d heard her.
Kensie’s smile faltered a little. “I’m Alanna Morgan’s sister. I know you found the note—”
“I got nothing to say about that.” Jasper cut her off, then angled his glare toward Colter. “No pets in the store. I’ve told you that before.”
Colter nodded at Rebel, who promptly sat. At sixty-five pounds of pure, lean muscle, and always at attention, she could be intimidating. “We just have a few questions. The quicker you answer them, the quicker we’re all out of here.”
“I already talked to the FBI and the police. You want to know about it, ask them.”
Kensie’s smile dropped off. Probably she was used to people being accommodating—or at least polite—when she asked them about her missing sister.
Colter took an aggressive step forward, slamming his hand down on the counter. Sensing his mood, Rebel came up next to him, baring her teeth a little.
Then Kensie’s hand landed on top of his. It was soft and slender and unexpected and it totally threw him off his game.
“I was there the day she went missing,” Kensie said, her voice a pained whisper that made even Jasper freeze. “I was thirteen. I was supposed to be watching her, but I was reading a book up by the house while she ran around the front yard.”
A sudden, wistful smile broke across her face. “Alanna was five. She was wearing this blue flowered dress, covered in dirt because she liked to play with everything. She was so grubby—her hands, her face—but the cutest little kid. She had these dimples you wouldn’t even know were there until she grinned, and then this sparkle in her eyes that told you she was about to be trouble.”
Kensie took a deep breath and Colter felt the shaking through her hand. He flipped his over and closed it