Alone in the Dark (18 page)

only as a veterinarian. Her feelings needed to be put on hold.

"Oh my God, what happened?" Even as she asked, she was leading Brady and King back to

the operating room.

In an effort to remain calm, Brady recited the events in a clipped manner. "We found a

cache of drugs in a toy warehouse earlier this evening. The drugs were packed inside the

dolls. They were using heroin instead of stuffing. Drug dealer had a pit bull on the

premises. It went for me and King tried to save me." And then the cold act folded as his

voice throbbed with emotion. "You've got to save him."

She blinked away the tears that filled her eyes. The kind of pit bull a drug dealer would

have was bred to kill, and there was no more effective killing machine on the face of the

planet. By scientific calculations, the jaws of a pit bull could exude over two thousand

pounds of pressure when clamped.

"You could have been killed. You both could have." She pulled down a fresh sheet of exam paper to cover the table for King. "Put him on the table. How did you—"

"Get away?" he guessed. "Easy." His expression was grim. "Gillespie shot him," he told her, mentioning another patrolman assigned to the detail. He swallowed, battling fears as he

looked at his long-time friend and companion. "Is he going to be all right?"

"Yes."

Her response was automatic. It was what they both needed to hear, whether or not it was

logically true. She didn't want to think about odds, or possibilities, or what could go wrong.

Nothing was going to go wrong. She was going tomakethe dog be all right.

"Hold him down for a second," she instructed. Then, while Brady did so, she prepared a

syringe, tapping the side to make sure there was no air bubble trapped inside

"What's that?" Brady immediately demanded.

"Just a sedative to make him relax." She nodded toward the reception area. "Why don't you wait for me outside?"

His feet firmly planted on the ground, Brady made no move to go. "No."

She slipped on the blue operating gown and prepared a tray. "It's going to get messy."

She could argue until she was blue in the face, nothing short of an order from God was

going to get him to leave. And maybe not even then. "He's my dog. I'm staying."

She didn't have the time to waste arguing. The dog needed her now and needed her

focused. "Okay, then stay out of my way."

Patience washed her hands, then quickly pulled on a pair of rubber gloves before beginning

her examination. The dog, mercifully, was already asleep.

Both of King's ears had been bitten, and a piece was missing from the tip of one. But the

wounds she was more concerned about were the ones along the canine's throat. There

were a total of three separate tears. It was obvious that the pit bull had intended to rip

out King's throat.

But when she examined them, she saw that the tears were superficial. She looked up at

Brady. He was like a stone statue, standing guard. It reminded her of an old fairy tale

Patrick had read to her.The Steadfast Tin Soldier."How did you manage to keep the dog

from ripping King's throat apart?"

"I pushed them together." His arms ached just to think about the ordeal. He'd used every last bit of strength he had and then some to hold the pit bull against King. Otherwise, the

dog would have bitten through chunks of King's throat.

"Quick thinking." If Brady hadn't been quick, there was no question in her mind that King would have been dead in moments.

"If I'd been quick, I would have shot him myself before he got to King."

Though sedated, the dog twitched slightly as she cleaned off his wounds. She started to

repair the damage. "But the pit bull got to you first, right?"

"Yeah."

Patience glanced up at him from her suturing. Brady's shirt was covered with blood. She

nodded at it. "How much of that is yours?"

He looked down to see what she was talking about. He'd been running on empty ever since

he'd seen the untethered dog come at them. After the attacking dog had been taken

down, Gillespie had offered to drive him to an all night vet's, but he'd refused. Refused to

allow anyone to touch him or his dog. He'd wanted to come to her. Because he was afraid

that if he didn't, no one else could save King.

He was still afraid.

"I don't know."

"Why don't you let me help—"

He didn't even let her finish. "After you sew up King," he ordered.

Patience knew without being told that there was no reasoning with him. In a way, she

supposed she understood. She would have placedTacoma's well-being before her own.

"Okay," she agreed.

It was more than an hour before Patience finally stripped off her gloves and operating

gown. She'd done all she could for the dog, the rest was out of her hands, but she felt

pretty confident that all had gone well.

They moved King onto a pallet in the corner of the room. The dog was still sedated, but

beginning to come around. "He needs to rest now," she told Brady.

He nodded. "I'm going to stay here." He began to pull up a chair.

"First we're going to see just how much of that blood was yours, remember? Take your

shirt off."

He waved her away. He'd sustained worse at his father's hands when he was a kid. "I'm

okay."

Her eyes narrowed. "The hell you are." Not waiting for him to comply, Patience picked up a pair of surgical scissors and began to cut his bloody shirt away from his body.

He knew better than to jerk away. "Hey, what are you doing?"

"Taking matters into my own hands." Brady started to stop her, only to have his hand

pushed away. "Sit down," she ordered. When he didn't, she warned, "Don't mess with me, Coltrane." Her eyes blazed. All the feelings surrounding this man suddenly came rushing up

from inside her. It was almost too much for her to deal with at one time. "You don't want

to see me when I'm angry."

Brady did as he was ordered and sat on the examination table. Despite himself, he was

amused. "Didn't the Hulk say something like that?"

She spared him a look that told him he'd better not be laughing at her. "The Hulk didn't

talk. That was his alter ego and right now, I'd say it was pretty good advice."

His stomach tightened reflexively as she dabbed peroxide on the first of his wounds. It

took him a second to find his breath. "Why are you angry?"

Ordinarily she would have shrugged away his question and kept everything inside. But he

was hurt and bleeding and he might have been killed today, leaving her with all these

unresolved feelings that had nowhere to go. Damn it, she wasn't supposed to care like this.

"Because it takes King and you almost bleeding to death to get you to show up," she said, her voice vibrating with anger.

"I'm not bleeding to death—"

She shot him a dark look. "Don't twist my words around, Coltrane. You're in a very

dangerous spot right now."

He looked at the scissors on the examination table beside him. "Yeah, I know." And then, because the look in her eyes had gotten to him, he decided that, for once in his life, he

was going to tackle something other than stone-cold facts. "Look, I thought it was for the

best if I left you alone."

Patience finished cleaning another wound. Tossing away the swab, she turned her

attention to the third. "Whose best?"

"Yours." The answer was automatic, without thought. And then he added, "Maybe mine."

"Why?" Very delicately, she applied a salve to the wound. She could see his skin tighten.

"Because you said you didn't want to get involved with a cop."

She raised her eyes to his. "I think we've passed the 'get' part and are well into

'involved,' wouldn't you say?"

Brady swallowed a curse born more of frustration than of the physical pain he was

experiencing. "Patience, I don't know the first thing about being in a relationship."

She examined her work before continuing on to the next wound. He was lucky the pit bull

hadn't turned him into a human chew toy.

"They're a little like snowflakes, every one is just a little bit different from the rest."

She looked at him again. "You go from there."

She didn't get it yet, did she? He had no frame of reference to fall back on, nothing to

guide him as to what he should do, what he should feel. "I grew up in a house full of anger

and hate."

"The man who put himself between his dog and a pit bull knows more than just anger and

hate. He knows about love and sacrifice." There were three more wounds, all in a row along

his rib cage. She liberally applied peroxide to all three and winced along with him. "Look,

I'm scared, too. Maybe we can be scared together."

She felt him backing away from her. "I didn't say I was scared."

The right corner of her mouth rose slightly. "You didn't have to." Taking a fresh swab,

she wiped away the blood from his forehead. Studying it, she frowned. Brady had a gash

there that was going to form a nasty scar if it wasn't sutured.

"Finished?" he asked impatiently.

"Almost. You've got a nasty cut right above your eyebrow. I'm going to have to stitch that

up."

He looked at her dubiously. Left on his own, he would have just washed the wound and left

it alone. "Are you qualified to do that?"

She went to get a new suturing tray. "Yes, I'm qualified to do that."

He shifted, uncomfortable. He didn't like being fussed over. "I won't start having

cravings for dog biscuits after you finish, will I?"

"No." She brought the tray over to the table. "But you might have this urge to bay at a full moon every once in a while."

He thought of the way he'd felt, making love with her. "I had that urge the other night."

Patience took the cellophane off the tray, aware that he was watching her every move.

She tossed the cellophane into the wastepaper basket. "Then this shouldn't be a problem

for you."

No, he thought, but being so close to her was. Because, despite the aches that began to

take hold of him, he could feel himself responding to her. Could feel himself wanting her.

This was far too intimate a setting for them to be alone together.

He watched her thread a needle. "You don't have to do this."

The look she gave him told him to stop arguing with her. "Yes, I do."

Brady began to slide off the table. "I could go to a hospital."

She put her hand in the middle of his chest and pushed. She was surprisingly strong for

such a little thing. "But you won't."

He knew he could easily overpower her. All he had to do was to get off the table and just

keep walking. But he wanted to remain near King. And to do that, he had to let Patience do

what she wanted to.

Brady frowned. "I don't think I like having you be able to read me so well."

She looked at him and said, "Tough," before she went back to work.

The single word echoed, inching its way along a wireless path out into the night. Taken

there by the electronic devices that had been covertly placed throughout the clinic and

her house. The devices she knew nothing about.

The devices her stalker had planted.

«^»

Brady sat amazingly still as she sutured the gash on his forehead. Not a muscle moved

when she pushed the needle through his skin. Each time she took another stitch she could

almost feel the needle breaking the surface. Yet he gave no indication that he felt

anything at all. Maybe he was channeling his pain, she mused.

"There," she announced, completing the last stitch. "Done. You're free to go."

About to put on his shirt, he glanced at the shredded garment then left it where it was.

Between the pit bull's attack and Patience's pass with her scissors, there was no saving

the shirt. He reached for his jacket instead, then looked over toward wherehis dog was

sleeping on the pallet on the floor."How long is he going to be like that?"

Patience glanced at her watch, gauging the amount of anesthetic she'd given the animal.

"King should be waking up in a few hours. There's nothing more you can do for him right

now, so if you want to go home—"

"I don't want to go home."

He was looking at her, not King, when he said it. She felt her flesh warming. It took her a

minute to find her tongue. With effort, she picked up the tray she'd just used and set

aside the instruments.

"I've got a spare bed in the guest room I can make up for you upstairs."

"I don't want to be in the guest room."

Very slowly, she turned around to gaze at him. All her pulses were suddenly awake and

active. Her anticipation was at a heightened level. "Then what is it you do want?"

He touched her face and felt that same longing spring up within him he'd felt before. The

longing that only seemed to be associated with her. The longing he'd never felt before.

"You."

"I see."

It was as if everything inside her had been holding its breath. And now she felt herself

melting. Logic tried desperately to break through the barriers she'd set up. She was

getting in too deep and the deeper she went, the less chance she had of coming back out

again. At least, not whole.

But logic stood very little chance of succeeding tonight. It found itself pitted against a

very particular reality. She could have easily lost Brady today. Lost him to a bullet or a pit

bull or God only knew what else. Lost him to all the pitfalls that were out there, waiting to

take out a man who wore a badge and strapped on a gun each morning. But she realized