The Military K-9 Unit Collection. Valerie Hansen
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he wanted and didn’t want in life. He’d thought he had it all mapped out. He’d work at the training center until they forced him to retire. Then he’d open his own dog-training facility. But now he couldn’t envision the path before him. Not without Felicity.
He told himself there was only one thing he needed to concentrate on—keeping Felicity safe.
Keeping an alert eye out for any threat, he climbed into the vehicle. He put the key in the ignition, then hesitated. “Why would Boyd leave a note and rose now?”
“Because he’s sick?”
“Are we sure Boyd placed them there?” An itch he couldn’t name niggled at him. “What if the intruder placed those there to throw us off?”
“To make us think Boyd was the one who poisoned me and broke into my house?” she said. “But we know it wasn’t Boyd. It was whoever killed my father.” She patted the tablet. “The person is after this.”
“Right.” His mind whirred with possibilities. Why would the intruder use the note and rose to scare them? Or had Boyd really set them on the hood of Westley’s vehicle?
“Don’t you think it odd that this note was typed while the first one was handwritten?” Felicity asked.
“It does seem strange.” Westley’s unease intensified. “Though if you think about it, for the first note he probably didn’t have access to a computer and printer.”
“True. And whoever is sheltering him has both. I still can’t believe anyone on base would help the likes of Boyd.”
“People do strange things.” Vicious things. Deadly things.
“That’s true.” She sighed. “Only God knows what really goes on in someone’s heart.”
Apprehension slithered across his shoulders. He gazed out the front windshield, staring at the dark woods. If Boyd wanted to shoot them he had perfect cover within the trees, yet they sat here unharmed. “We need to get out of the vehicle now.”
He didn’t wait for her response but hopped out and quickly came around to her side to open her door.
She climbed out. “You think he booby-trapped the car?”
He released Dakota. “I’m not taking any chances.”
The dog circled the SUV then dropped to his belly near the front end, his nose aimed toward the undercarriage. A menacing growl filled the air.
“What’s he doing?” Felicity asked.
“He sees or smells something that has his hackles up,” Westley replied. “That’s not his normal alert signal.”
Waving Felicity back a safe distance, Westley crawled beneath the vehicle to look for signs of sabotage. A pack of C-4 had been strapped to the undercarriage. There’d been no attempt made to hide either the explosive or the remote detonator blinking a red warning light. Westley froze. Fear like he’d never experienced before blasted through his body.
Felicity’s cell phone rang, sending him scrambling out from under the SUV. The look of horror on her pale face matched the sickening dread filling his veins.
She held the phone from her ear. “He says he’ll blow up the car if we don’t hand over the tablet.”
Felicity’s heart stuttered within her chest. Her feet rooted to the spot, she was too afraid to move, afraid if she and Westley and Dakota ran, the man on the phone would detonate the bomb. Westley stepped to her side and took the phone from her hands.
“Who is this?” he demanded. He listened for a moment, his gaze scanning the tree line. “What makes you think we haven’t made a copy?”
Still holding the phone in one hand to his ear, Westley grabbed the back of her uniform jacket and pulled her farther away from the vehicle. He let out a shrill whistle and Dakota came running. “Not going to happen, man.”
He closed the phone, then yelled, “Run.”
Galvanized into action by the flood of adrenaline released at his command, Felicity whirled away from the vehicle and ran as fast as her legs could go.
“Get back!” she yelled to the other people going to their nearby cars. “Bomb!”
People scattered, fleeing the area.
When she and Westley, with Dakota at their heels, were a safe distance away, Westley called Security Forces, alerting them to the bomb strapped to the undercarriage of the SUV.
“What did the man say to you?” Felicity asked after he hung up with the Security Forces dispatcher. She glanced nervously over her shoulder at the SUV, expecting it to explode at any moment.
Westley shook his head. “Nothing for you to worry about.”
She gripped his arm in frustration. “Don’t do that.” She wasn’t going to take being coddled.
With a wry twist of his lips, Westley said, “Sorry. He claimed he could get to you at any time and if we didn’t leave the tablet and all copies of its contents in your mailbox—without overwatch—tonight, he’d kill you.”
A shiver of apprehension wormed its way over her flesh. She was thankful she had two earthly protectors and God watching out for her. And equally grateful Westley told her.
Within minutes the area was evacuated and the bomb squad arrived along with the base’s ace bomb-sniffing bloodhound, Annie, and her handler, First Lieutenant Nick Donovan. Felicity and Westley saluted the lieutenant.
Two explosive-ordinance-disposal techs, wearing bombs suits to protect them from the potential blast, approached the vehicle.
Felicity put her hand to her throat, fingering the cross on her necklace, and held her breath.
Within a matter of minutes the EODs had the bomb deactivated and disassembled.
“A crude design,” Nick told them. “Amateurish.”
“That was a lot of C-4,” Westley said.
Nick shrugged. “I’m not saying it wouldn’t have fulfilled its purpose.”
Which was to kill her and Westley and destroy the evidence in her pocket. She shivered with a ripple of anxiety.
“As a precaution,” Nick said, “Annie and I will take a tour of the lot.”
“Good idea, Lieutenant,” Westley said.
As the explosives expert and his canine walked away, Captain Justin Blackwood arrived. Westley updated him.
“What can you tell me about the caller?” Justin asked.
“Not much,” Felicity said. “He sounded muffled, like he had something over the phone.” Something niggled at her mind, clamoring for her attention. She tried to hold onto it but whatever her subconscious was trying to say remained elusive. “Maybe the voice sounded vaguely familiar.”
“It could have been Sullivan or his accomplice,” Justin said. “You may know his accomplice.”
“We may all know his accomplice,” Westley said. “But I’m not convinced this was Sullivan.”
Justin peered at him speculatively. “But he left a rose and note on the hood of your vehicle. If it wasn’t Boyd or his accomplice, then who?”
Felicity met Westley’s gaze. There was no mistaking the question in his eyes. Did they tell the captain about her father’s murder?
She nodded. This latest attempt on her life could have ended so badly, not just for her, Westley and Dakota, but also for a multitude of innocent people. They needed to voice their suspicion before it was too late.
“We