Irresistible Force (25 page)

Dressed in a well-padded bite suit that made him look like the Pillsbury Doughboy’s blue brother, James lumbered across the grass to get ready for the next attack.

The dog, a bitch, came at him at full speed from thirty feet away.

A spurt of adrenaline gave James suspect-alert status as he turned to run.

The dog’s lunge knocked him back a step and he turned with the impact to deflect the direct force of the hit.

He took the full-mouth bite high on the inside of the upper arm, shouting, “Fuck! Fuck this shit!” He hit at the dog but without a lot of force.

The shouts and slaps were intended to intimidate, the kind of frightened, angry responses the dog could expect from a real suspect high on drugs. If the dog flinched and released then there was a problem.

The dog growled deep in her throat but did not relax her bite.

He dragged her along in the grass, hind legs on the ground as she tugged hard to try to bring him down. Then suddenly he planted his feet and used his arm to swing the dog up off the ground, the bite the only thing holding her to the suit. He grabbed her under the belly and heaved her hind legs first over his shoulder as he continued to slowly spin around. Well trained, she growled louder, escalating as her prey did, fully engaged in getting and maintaining control.

Officer Matt Spurlock came up to claim his dog. When he had attached the leash, he gave the command to release.

James nodded in approval. “Good work. She’s tenacious.”

Matt grinned. “Yeah. My wife says I tend to bring that out in females.”

James leaned forward, placing his hands on his thighs as he caught his breath.

Fully protected by a bite suit, he wasn’t getting beat up or abused, but he was getting exhausted. The incredible force of a K-9’s grab-and-hold was nothing to take for granted. His shoulders and thighs ached from taking the repeated attacks from sixty-five- to ninety-five-pound dogs. He needed his full concentration or, even in his cushioned bite suit, he could be injured.

To truly understand the power and commitment to purpose of a K-9 there was no better way than to suit up and experience it firsthand. He didn’t do it often but each time he came away with a new respect and admiration for these wonderful creatures.

A hand landed hard on his shoulder. “Good work, Cannon. You’re done for the day. Anyway, there’s someone looking for you.”

James straightened and looked back in the direction his trainer pointed. Near the entrance to the training hut a deputy sheriff stood waiting. His first thought was
Shay
. He took off at a sprint toward the visitor. Well, a lumber. Sprinting was impossible in his suit.

James held out his hand when he got close. “I’m James Cannon. What’s up, Deputy?”

“Howdy, Mr. Cannon.” After he shook James’s hand, he pulled out an envelope. “I got something with your name on it. Looks important.”

James recognized a summons when he saw one. “Shit.”

The deputy smiled. “Have a nice day.”

*   *   *

“What the hell do you think you’re playing at, Jaylynn?” James palmed his cell as he eyed the locker room where he’d gone to change out of his decoy suit to make certain he was not being overheard.

“Hello, Jimmy.” Jaylynn’s voice was all cane-sugar sweet. “I’m hanging up now. My attorney says I’m not supposed to talk to you.”

“You can talk to me over the phone or you can talk to me in person. You decide.”

There was a pause. “What do you want?”

“What are you trying to do by suing Shay Appleton?”

“I’m trying to keep my career from being derailed.”

“You did that all by yourself.”

He thought he heard her yawn. “Did you really think I was going to stand by and let you ruin my career? Over a dog? I’m not stupid, James. I sought legal counsel. My attorney advised me to not wait for charges to be filed against me but to take an aggressive approach.”

“He can’t change the fact that you stole Bogart and lied about it to the police. That’s going to stick.”

“I don’t know about that. My attorney says there were miti—minta—er, extenuating circumstances which led to my actions.”

“Like what?”

“Like, I was ashamed your dog got away from me. And I thought the police would act faster if I said he was stolen. And that nobody would care about how he got away when he turned up again.”

James gritted his teeth. Her way of thinking had become self-delusional. Whatever she wanted to be true suddenly was, in her mind. “You were seen with Bogart at a Raleigh shelter. You can be identified.”

“So you keep saying. My attorney says that woman’s testimony has been tainted. That could have been anybody bringing in your dog. You found the witness. Only you have talked to her. Only you are saying she can identify me. And you wrote up the report. You aren’t unbiased by a long shot, mister!”

“Is that all you’ve got?”

“You wish, you bastard! I know you were over in Raleigh this past weekend. I know you’re seeing her, probably fucking her.”

James made a quick calculation. “You hired a private investigator.”

“Two. My attorney said I needed to get information quickly. One to find her and one to watch you. Funny how they met last Friday in Raleigh. I hear one PI gave your little slut makeup lessons in the ladies’ room. God knows, she needs the help. We’ve got pictures of you two together. I hit the jackpot, didn’t I? Now that I know you two know each other I can see that I was framed. You set me up!”

Every muscle in James’s body tensed as the minefield of Jaylynn’s thinking opened up before him. The woman at the bar, the one he’d pegged as police. PI. He swallowed his anger. He needed to know just how elaborate her negative spin had become. “Why would I set you up?”

“Because I’m a celebrity. You’re trying to ruin me because I dumped you. You’ve been feeding that little slut information about me. My attorney says that amounts to co—cohesion.”

“I think you mean collusion.”
And extortion
. But why help her out?

“Whatever. Once the judge sees pictures of you with that slut, who’s going to think you chose her over me?”

“Nothing you’ve said changes the fact that you went to the police with the story that Bogart was stolen from your car, Jaylynn.”

“That’s right. I lost him, like I said the first time.” She sounded so confident. “For all I know, you hired your slut to steal him so you could have an excuse to go after me because you knew I was moving on. I’m the victim here.”

James shifted quickly through her argument. Someone was coaching her, and doing a damn good job of burying the truth with innuendo. While he was certain she hadn’t thought up any of this herself, Jaylynn was a pro at delivering someone else’s script. She would be believable in front of a judge. He needed to crack her story in order to refute it.

“Have you moved on, Jaylynn?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Bet I can find out who he is by reading a few copies of the society pages.”

There was a long pause. He knew he’d hit a nerve, and a thread to follow up. “Is that who’s footing the attorney bills? And hired the two detectives? I’m impressed.”

“How I conduct my life is none of your business.”

He needed to put her back on the defensive. “You must be more generous in bed with him than you were with me.”

She didn’t answer for so long he thought she’d hung up. “I’ll bet trailer-park Barbie doesn’t know how little you make as a doggy cop. Or maybe she thinks that being with you is trading up from the bubbas she’s known. We’re digging into her background. Who knows what else will turn up?”

James went cold inside. “What do you want to make this go away, Jaylynn?”

“Oh no! You started this. You’re the one accusing me of stealing your damn dog. Now you’ll have to deal with my payback. Tell your bitch I’ll see her in court!” She hung up.

James palmed his forehead, trying to concentrate on every word spoken as he played their conversation back in his head. Jaylynn’s attorney sounded like one of those grandstanding types who’d do anything for a client, providing it made the papers and enhanced his career profile.

He needed to put in a call to his sergeant about what the department was going to do about Bogart’s disappearance. He doubted it was top priority. He’d wanted to scare Jaylynn, shake her up for all the worry and pain she’d put him and Bogart through. For trying to kill Bogart.

James could have kicked himself for not seeing something like this coming. He knew Jaylynn was arrogant and self-involved, and ruthless. He had counted on her pride forcing her to make a strategic retreat out of town before she was charged. Or if she had turned on him, he thought he was prepared.

But Jaylynn had seen through his tough stance and found a vulnerable spot. She wasn’t going after him. She’d chosen to focus on the one innocent party in the whole screwed-up business. Shay.

James swore colorfully enough to turn a few heads but he didn’t even acknowledge the men he passed as he headed back to the field.

He should have told Shay about Jaylynn being a possible threat. But so much was going on when he found her in Raleigh that that concern was wiped right out of his mind.

Strange as it seemed, the moment he met Shay, Jaylynn had gone from being his ex to someone he once knew way back when. He could take care of himself. But dammit, Shay didn’t deserve another stone in her road.

He wasn’t arrogant or foolish enough to think he could just swoop in and make Shay’s life all better, or even that she’d want him to, in the long run. Their relationship was too new for that kind of thinking.

James’s steps slowed. But he was thinking about it. He just hadn’t realized it until this second.

Shay’d had so much grief in her life. She had paid too heavy a price for an incident that left her unjustly accused, tried, and convicted in the public eye. All she’d ever wanted to do was outrun her past. How could he tell her he was responsible for the shitstorm that was about to drag her into public view again? And worst of all, that it was his fault?

“Damn it!” He slammed a fist against the closest wall. In trying to set the record straight about Bogart’s disappearance, he’d royally screwed the woman who’d saved Bogart’s life.

“You ready?”

James looked up. Matt Reed stood before him in full gear for the next test. Had he seen the punch James had thrown? Possibly. It didn’t show on the lawman’s face.

“Yeah. Ready. Wait.” James sent Matt a direct look. “I need to go into Raleigh this evening. After the testing.”

His trainer frowned. “You know the drill.”

James did. It would be twenty-four hours more before he was done with his retraining. K-9 boot camp was a lot like regular boot camp. He hated asking for favors. He locked his jaw against doing so.

Matt stared at him. “Somebody dead or dying?”

James wagged his head though he suspected his relationship with Shay might be on life support after she received her summons.

“Then it can wait. Let’s get ’er done.”

James glanced at his phone. Shay would still be working. She hadn’t called him so it might be safe to assume she had not yet been served. He really didn’t want to drop this bomb on her in the middle of the day and have to hang up.

He could text her a warning. No, that would only scare her. And without an explanation, she would freak—and who could blame her?

He needed to be able to reassure her that he would figure out a way to protect her. And be right about that. But first he’d have to explain all about Jaylynn. Couldn’t really text that, either.

He punched a few words into his phone.
We need to talk
.
I’ll call late. Love you
.

He stared at the words then punched the key to back up and erase “love you.” Too soon. And not even remotely relevant at the moment. Considering what he had to confess.

He was getting soft between the ears.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Shay ached all over. Her head throbbed. Her eyes itched and burned as she read her monitor. Her knuckles ached where she gripped her mouse. Maybe she was coming down with the flu.

“That’s all I need.” She rubbed two fingers between her brows to smooth out the tightness. The flu. Final insult after a roller-coaster week.

“You up for pizza and a beer?”

Shay made the effort to smile at Angie and Henry who had come up to her at the receptionist’s desk. They were dressed similarly in jeans, tees, and leather jackets. Of course, Angie’s jacket looked like a zippered version of a fifteenth-century gentleman’s doublet, tightly fitted with puffed sleeves and a ruffle on each upper arm: Charles VII meets Steampunk.

She glanced at the wall clock. “I’ve got six minutes to put in.”

Her friends exchanged glances. “Perry is making you punch a clock?”

When not out working a temp job, Logital Solutions’s employees had a lot of freedom. Many still came in and often stayed late, because it allowed them access to some of the fastest computers around. Because much of it wasn’t paid work, Perry didn’t keep track of hours.

“I’m not temping. I’m staff. We clock in and out.”

“All the more reason for us to spirit you away, lowly drudge,” Angie intoned in her best snotty English accent.

“I don’t think so, guys. Have you heard if anyone in the building has come down with the flu?”

They both backed up a foot.

“You do look sort of illin’,” Henry said, sliding a hank of long black hair back from his face.

“No, you should come. Beer is a natural viral deterrent.”

Henry turned to Angie. “Seriously?”

“Absolutely. Don’t you remember
The Andromeda Strain
? The drunk guy didn’t get the virus. Something about acid levels in his blood. Shay needs isoalpha acids to fight her plague.” Angie said it with such conviction Henry nodded.

He glanced at the clock. “That settles it. Beer therapy for Shay in T minus five minutes and counting.”

Shay didn’t say no a second time, though the last thing she felt like doing was sitting in a too warm, too loud overcrowded bar. She wanted to go home and curl up in bed clutching a pillow that still smelled a tiny bit like James. How dorky did that sound?