Chapter 22 Jagg
JAGG
Amane of dark curls cascaded behind the gun pointed at my head. The steadiness of the barrel told me it was locked, loaded, and ready—and wasn’t the first time it had surprised an unannounced visitor.
“Miss Harper, lovely to see you,” I said swallowing the knot in my throat. “I’m going to need you to lower that gun.”
“Detective, lovely to see you as well. I’m going to need you to tell me what you’re doing on my land.”
“I’ll tell you once you pull Cujo away from the two marbles that were once my ball sack.” My gaze slid up to hers. “Which, by the way, is one millionth of their original size.”
Sunny muttered something to the dog that wasn’t “hey, this guy’s funny,” and in an instant, the barking ceased and the beast backed up, settling next to its master’s feet but keeping his beady, black devil-eyes on me.
I snarled back.
The gun dropped from my face, revealing an emerald gaze just as intense.
“You can lower your hands now.”
I dropped my arms along with the inch of pride the woman had just peeled off of me.
It had only been five hours since I’d seen her, but the knot below her eye had gone down and was replaced by speckles of purple bruising.
The scratches on her neck and arms were an angry red.
A white bandage covered the stitches on her arm.
If her ribs were sore, her stance wasn’t showing it.
If she were in any kind of pain, or if she was emotionally shaken, she wasn’t showing it.
In fact, she seemed to wear her injuries like a badge of honor.
My heart gave a little kick.
She wore a black tank top and faded jeans revealing hints of tanned skin through holes at the knees.
Her feet were covered in a pair of strappy sports sandals.
Her toenails, a cherry red as electric as her eyes.
And that damn hair, dancing on the summer breeze, a rogue strand tickling across red, shimmering lips pressed into a thin line of scrutiny.
Sunny was gorgeous.
My thoughts short circuited between the rabid dog at her feet and the stunning natural beauty in front of me. I didn’t like how only her presence seemed to spin my thoughts like a blender. Sunny Harper had a way of knocking me off my game, and I didn’t like it.
I squared my shoulders and said the first thing that came to mind.
“You got a permit for that cannon, Miss Harper?”
“You got a warrant to be on my land?”
“Don’t need a warrant to chat.”
She shoved the nine millimeter into the band of her pants with an ease that verified her comfort level with it. Considering her other nine millimeter was in custody at BSPD, I wondered how many weapons she had in her cabin.
“How’s your arm?” I asked.
“Fine.”
“Ribs?”
“Fine. Did you call?” She asked, although it wasn’t a question as much as a thinly veiled message that she didn’t like me showing up unannounced. Got it.
“Are you busy?” I responded.
She stared at me with a pair of slitted eyes and for a moment, I thought she was really going to ask me to leave and not come back without a warrant. Finally—
“Settle,” Sunny demanded in an authoritative voice that had me automatically easing my stance.
I realized she wasn’t talking to me when my peripheral caught movement to my right side, then, on my left side.
Two more massive dogs emerged from the brush.
Three pairs of black irises now eyeing me like a T-bone steak.
Three dogs had been stalking me, not just one.
I’d been played beyond played. Tricky, tricky bastards.
My gaze shifted between the dogs, then back to the fourth skeptical pair of eyes burning holes through my soul.
The fact that she didn’t bother to lock her doors or windows in her cabin suddenly made sense.
“Fine.” She said, then jerked her chin and began walking—my cue to follow.
The moment I lifted my foot, one of the dogs growled.
She snapped her fingers, addressing the biggest GSD. “Whoa, there now, buddy, calm down,” her tone a sweet, southern drawl.
The woman was mocking me.
Her lip curved as she breezed past me, an extra sway of attitude in those hips.
The three dogs eyed me as they passed by, then fell into step behind the flowing hair of their master. I waited a beat, watching the Captain and her army descend down the pathway, each soldier at her beck and call. Sunny knew how to make people fall in line and how to get what she wanted.
Sunny Harper was no man’s fool.
She was the leader of the pack.
An alpha female.
No…
A Queen among servants.
I fell into step behind her.
“Are there any trip wires or land mines I need to be aware of?”
“Not on the trail.”
My brows arched as I glanced into the surrounding woods.
We walked in silence, the air between us heavy with unspoken things. A bend in the trail opened up like a curtain pulling back on a stage—and there it was.
The K9 training center.
A full-blown, no-nonsense facility tucked between the trees, right on the edge of the riverbank.
Sweat beaded under my collar as I took in the scene: an elaborate obstacle course dotted with ramps, stacked barrels, tubes, balls, hurdles, and metal hoops glinting in the sun.
A pair of full-sized boxing dummies stood in the center, scarred and battle-worn, chunks of rubber torn from their forearms. One of them was missing half a cheek, as if a dog had tried to rip the face clean off.
Rough day at the office.
Beyond the course, a line of industrial-grade kennels sat in the shade. Behind the chain-link, a black dog—massive and muscled—watched me in absolute stillness. Muzzled, yet menacing. Its eyes followed my every step, intelligent and unblinking.
I turned back to the obstacle course.
“Impressive.”
A wet snout nudged the back of my hand. The biggest dog had taken an interest in me. Its sable hair was now flat against its back, so I considered that progress. I flicked my wrist at the snotty nose then wiped my hand on my pants.
“Hup!” Sunny snapped at another dog, who promptly leapt through the air, landing nimbly on one of the platforms. I watched as he bolted through the course, quick, agile, flawless.
“Impressive,” I repeated, referring now to the dog instead of the course.
“It’s easy to train a willing mind.”
“And those who aren’t willing?”
“Hard work and pointed effort.”
“Precious commodities.”
“More like deficiencies these days.”
I couldn’t agree more.
She continued, “It’s not just time and effort, its perseverance. Not giving up on them. That’s the tipping point. That’s what makes a good or bad dog great. Or anyone, for that matter.”
We watched the dog finish the course, then jog up, its tongue hanging out of a big toothy smile. She kneeled down and ruffled its ears, smiling and praising with full attention.
I was in awe of the different woman I was seeing from the night before. Not five hours earlier, Sunny Harper had been holding a nine millimeter over a dead body. Now, there was a hint of softness to her. A loving, nurturing side. A contentment, with her dogs, in the middle of the woods.
Her sanctuary, I guessed.
I zeroed in on the bandage on her arm again, my stomach clenching. As I reached out to help her up, the dog lunged at me.
“Christ,” I jumped back, flashing my palms.
“Enough.” She scolded the dog, sending its tail between its legs, while I made a mental note to pack an extra pair of boxers for my next visit. Sunny nodded to the river in some nonverbal cue and the dogs took off like bullets into the water.
“Thank God you don’t need in-home care,” I muttered, heart still in my throat.
“Sorry about that. They’re protective.”
“Understatement of the century.” I reached for her again.
“Let me…” I helped her to a stance. I was shocked that she let me touch her.
That’s when I realized Sunny Harper’s attitude, or resistance, I should say, was very impacted by her environment.
I wondered if her house was the only place she let her guard down.
“How are you really doing?”
She took a deep breath. “I’m fine.”
“That wince you gave when you inhaled says otherwise.”
She looked at me, her eyes squinting in suspicion as if to figure me out.
That makes two of us.
“So. You said you wanted to chat?”
“If you don’t mind.”
She nodded. “I expected it. But I expected a call, not a drop in.”
“You seem just as territorial about your place as your dogs.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You need to lock your doors and windows, despite the guard dogs.”
“Did you go into my house?”
“Never. I’d never set foot inside a stranger’s house without a warrant.”
“Your reputation says otherwise.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”