K-9 Defense (HQR Intrigue) Read online

  Kensie stopped groping for a weapon. Instead, she leaped on top of the bed. Running instead of fighting suddenly seemed like her best option.

  He changed direction, reaching for her, but she jumped over his arm, landing awkwardly on the floor on the other side of the bed.

  Something pierced her bare foot and pain exploded in her arch, but Kensie ignored it, her focus solely on the door. She could hear him behind her, catching up, and she ran faster, tears pricking her eyes at what she realized was a splinter from the broken door in her foot.

  She was so close. If she could just get through the door, the emergency exit for the stairs was a straight shot down the hallway. There was a fire alarm right next to it she could pull on her way, maybe attracting attention from the hotel staff who knew she was up here.

  She’d almost cleared the door when a big hand closed like a vise around her elbow and yanked her back into the room, hard enough to send her to the ground. Her head smacked the floor and even the thick carpeting wasn’t enough of a cushion to stop the shock. The air whooshed out of her lungs and her vision wavered briefly.

  Then he was kneeling over her, one knee on either side of her hips, and a new kind of panic exploded in her chest. What was he going to do to her? What had he done to her sister?

  Tears filled her eyes, but rage almost instantly overtook the fear as she thought of Alanna. Where was her sister right now? Was Henry planning to get rid of Kensie so he could continue hiding here with her sister?

  But it was too late for that. Colter knew about him. Even if she was gone, Colter would search for Alanna.

  It wouldn’t come to that, Kensie vowed. Yanking her arms upward before he could pin them down, Kensie used her nails and went straight for his eyes.

  He jerked out of the way just in time, but before she could use his shifted position to her advantage, he was back, leaning closer. Blowing rancid breath in her face, he snarled, “I don’t know how you found me, but you’re not taking me down.”

  With his face so close to hers, Kensie instinctively tried to shift her head away. Then she realized her mistake and went after him again, this time getting her nails deep in the skin of his cheek as he jerked backward.

  But it wasn’t enough. Calling her all kinds of names, Henry pressed his big hands around her neck. They closed around it with ease and then he was pushing down, stealing all her air.

  “I didn’t even know she had a sister,” Henry growled. “You should have let her go. Let me go.”

  Kensie gagged, grabbing his hands with hers, trying to peel them off. But he was even stronger than he looked. Spots formed in front of her eyes, even as she kicked up, trying to knee him in the groin.

  He moved his knees inward, pressing her legs together, keeping them pinned to the ground. His hands closed tighter around her neck, his lips moving into a satisfied smile before his face started to blur.

  Kensie flailed, a last desperate attempt to break his chokehold, but it was no use. She couldn’t breathe; she could barely see.

  She was going to die.

  She would never know what happened to her sister. She was going to put her family through the trauma of losing another member. She was going to put Colter through the grief of losing someone else who mattered to him. Because, as gruff as he acted, she knew he cared for her.

  He’d never know how much she cared about him.

  Kensie’s hands shook as she tried to peel Henry’s fingers away from her neck, tried to gasp in another breath. But none came.

  Her hands stopped working. She felt them hit the carpet beside her, useless, as everything went dark.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Kensie wasn’t answering. Not her cell phone and not the phone in her room.

  Warning Rebel, “Hang on, girl,” Colter jammed his foot down on the gas.

  Rebel lurched forward anyway, letting out a brief whine.

  “Sorry, girl,” he said, both hands clenched tightly on the wheel as he took the unpaved road way too fast. His truck bounced and rattled, sliding on sudden patches of ice, but always gaining traction again.

  Why wasn’t Kensie answering? Her text had cut off midsentence and that had been several minutes ago, with nothing since.

  Colter gritted his teeth as he took another curve at speeds that made his truck teeter right. It set back down again, earning another warning whine from Rebel. But he was all the way out by where Henry Rollings might live, using the map Yura had given them earlier. Despite the dangerous roads, he needed speed to get to Kensie.

  “Call 911,” he told his phone, glancing down to be sure it picked up his voice properly. If the police thought he was overreacting, so be it.

  “Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?”

  “This is Colter Hayes.” He didn’t know the voice on the other end of the line, but it was a small town, so hopefully whoever it was recognized his name and knew he wasn’t prone to false alarms or overreactions. “My...” he stumbled over “friend,” the word not feeling right on his tongue, then he hurried on “...is in trouble. She just texted me that she needed help. She’s staying at that big luxury hotel outside of town.”

  “I need you to stay calm, sir,” the woman replied, her own voice way too even and slow, making him realize he’d been talking at warp speed. “What kind of trouble is she in?”

  “I don’t know. She didn’t give me any details. Her text cut off midsentence and she’s not picking up her phone. I need police to get there now.”

  “Okay, sir, we’ll send someone out to see what’s happening,” she said in that same exasperatingly slow voice, telling him she definitely didn’t know who he was. “But do you think it’s possible she just needed help with something simple? That it’s not an emergency?”

  “No, I don’t think that’s possible! She’d never text me to hurry if it weren’t an emergency.” His voice gained volume with every word and he took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. “Are officers on their way?”

  As he asked, he left the treacherous unpaved trail he hadn’t wanted Kensie on tonight for a smoother road. At the transition, his truck bounced high enough that his head almost smacked the cab ceiling. In the rearview, he saw Rebel hunkered down, trying not to get thrown around.

  At least Kensie was staying at the overpriced luxury hotel outside of Desparre instead of the cheap motel downtown. He was much closer to the hotel. Of course, the police were closer to town. But then, it was late enough that probably no one was left at the station anyway.

  “Who lives out by the luxury hotel? I want the closest officer sent out.”

  “Don’t worry, sir. We’ll get someone over there to check it out. Now, I want you to remain calm and—”

  “She’s on the fourth floor, room 409.” He cut her off, then hung up. He didn’t want to waste time with her focused on his panic. Not when he needed every bit of his attention on the dangerous roads ahead.

  “It’s going to be okay, girl,” he told Rebel, partly because he knew he was making the ride hard for her and partly to reassure himself about Kensie.

  She had to be okay. He didn’t think he could handle losing someone else.

  The very thought of something happening to Kensie made his breath stutter and his lungs lock up as his heartbeat thundered painfully against his chest.

  Not this. Not now.

  A hundred curses screamed in his mind, but he couldn’t get enough air to voice them. He clenched the wheel harder and eased his foot up off the gas, fighting the panic and impending dizziness. He couldn’t afford to lose control, especially not here, not at speeds his truck could barely handle with him on full alert.

  Suddenly, Rebel’s nose pressed against his arm and he realized she’d stood and pushed her head between the seats. He breathed deeply, slowly, focusing on the feel of her head leaning into his biceps.

  “Thanks, girl,” he said when t
he panic eased and his heart rate started to slow.

  He could do this. He wasn’t going to let his mind wander to all the possible reasons Kensie had sent that text, all the possible dangers she could be facing. He was going to put all of his energy into getting to her as fast as he could.

  “I’ve got this, girl,” he told Rebel, pleased when his voice came out strong and determined. “Lay back down,” he told her, not wanting her to get thrown around as he punched the gas again.

  She listened, obviously sensing he’d conquered his panic.

  “Call Kensie,” he ordered his phone, but once again, it went to voice mail. Instead of hanging up immediately, he said, “Hang on, Kensie. I’m coming.”

  Then he jammed the gas pedal into the floorboards. The turns came too fast as he put the truck’s suspension to a serious test. It still seemed to take forever to get to the hotel, but he knew it was less than ten minutes since Kensie had texted.

  Squealing to a stop, Colter yanked the truck into Park and then grabbed his cane before jumping out of the cab. Rebel was right behind him, so fast that he suspected she knew Kensie needed them.

  But where were the police cruisers, sirens wailing? Instead, the parking lot was dark and silent, only a few vehicles scattered up near the entrance.

  Colter swore as he pushed his leg as hard as he could, doing a ridiculous hobble-run to the front of the hotel, not even bothering to shut the truck door behind him. Rebel kept pace beside him, tension in the lines of her back that told him she was ready for battle.

  When they burst through the doors into the hotel lobby, the older man behind the desk jerked his head up in surprise. “Can I help—”

  “Have you seen Kensie Morgan? She’s staying—”

  “Fourth floor,” the man interrupted. “From Chicago. Nice lady. She—”

  “Have you seen her in the past ten minutes?” Colter demanded.

  “No.”

  “She’s in trouble. Call the police.” Colter didn’t care that he’d already done it. The fact that they weren’t here yet—regardless of how far the drive was for the closest officer—pissed him off.

  “What?” The man pressed a shaky hand to his chest. “What’s going on?”

  Colter didn’t answer. He just bolted for the elevator and jammed his hand against the Up button. If he’d been in fighting shape, stairs would be quicker, even at four stories. But these days, elevators were a faster option.

  Thankfully, the elevator must have been at the ground floor, because it opened up fast and then he and Rebel were inside it, heading up. “Please be okay,” he chanted, watching the numbers beep by as they rose too slowly.

  Finally the elevator arrived with a loud ding and Colter slid through before the doors finished opening. Rebel charged out after him.

  He’d never been up here, but over the blood racing in his ears, he heard...something. Almost like a gurgling. And way down the hall, something lying in the hallway. Small, like a piece of wood. But it didn’t belong.

  Colter headed that way, almost stumbling as he pushed his leg as hard as he could. Rebel ran beside him, following his silent command.

  Before he reached the room, the noise stopped. When he finally peered inside, Henry Rollings glanced back from where he knelt on the floor.

  And beneath him was Kensie, her head lolled to one side and her eyes closed.

  * * *

  WITH A ROAR that didn’t even sound like him, Colter dropped his cane and rushed Rollings.

  Panic shot across Henry’s face as he tried to scramble to his feet. But he wasn’t fast enough.

  Leaning on his stronger left leg, Colter grabbed the man by a fistful of shirt and yanked him off Kensie and onto his back. Not letting him regroup, Colter let go of his shirt and grabbed him by the forearm, twisting up and back as he dragged Henry farther away from Kensie.

  “Check Kensie, girl,” he told Rebel, who leaped right over Henry and landed beside Kensie.

  Colter said a silent prayer that she was okay, but right now he had to focus on neutralizing Henry before the guy realized Colter’s weakness and went for his bad leg like Danny had.

  From the corner of his eye, Colter watched as Rebel nudged Kensie, then did it again, harder. Kensie didn’t move and Colter felt panic rising inside of him.

  Then Henry yelped and twisted, yanking his arm free while Colter was distracted. Pushing against the floor for leverage, Henry shoved himself upward.

  Colter’s panic shifted into rage. His focus narrowed onto just Henry, all of his fury and fear directed at the man. He could feel his lips twisting back into a snarl as he raised his fist.

  He’d been to war, survived multiple tours where he’d seen others die. He’d faced an enemy with the desire to eliminate a threat, but he’d never felt this kind of primal hatred before. His fist connected with Henry’s face, fueled by all of that rage, too hard and fast for the man to block it.

  Henry hit the ground hard, lights out.

  For a split second, Colter wanted to keep pounding on him. But his worry for Kensie quickly overcame his hatred for Henry.

  Colter twisted toward her. His knee popped as he dropped down beside her. His eyes watered at the pain, but he brushed the moisture away and pressed his fingers to her bruised neck. Rebel let out a long, low whine as Colter prayed.

  Then he felt it. A pulse. Slow, too weak, but it was there.

  Dropping even lower, he placed his hand in front of her mouth and nose, waiting for the soft brush of her breath. It, too, was faint but there.

  Suddenly, he couldn’t see as he stroked his hand down her cheek. “Kensie, Kensie, wake up.” A drop splattered on her face and he realized he was crying.

  Her eyes blinked open, confusion and pain in her gaze. “Wha—” she croaked.

  “Don’t try to talk.” He sucked in a long breath of relief, swiped away tears so he could see her better, then folded her hand in his. It felt so fragile, so delicate. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”

  Beside him, Rebel’s tail thumped the ground and she dropped to her belly, resting her head on Kensie’s arm.

  Down the hall, he heard the ding of the elevator and footsteps running toward them. “We’re in here,” he called. “We need an ambulance.”

  “Colter Hayes?” a voice called back.

  Chief Hernandez had come herself. It had taken way longer than Colter would have liked, but he knew the chief didn’t live nearby. If she was the closest, then she’d still made good time.

  “Yes. We’re in here. Kensie needs an ambulance.”

  Kensie started to lift her head, but Colter put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t move.”

  He glanced back as Chief Hernandez poked her head around the door, then entered, holstering her weapon and lifting her radio. “Get me an ambulance.”

  She strode into the room and cuffed Henry’s hands behind his back as he groaned and started moving.

  “Where’s Alanna?” Kensie croaked, her words barely intelligible.

  It hurt Colter just to hear her speak. Neither his hand on her shoulder nor the chief’s admonishment not to move until an EMT had looked at her prevented her from struggling to a sitting position.

  Colter braced his hand behind her back and Rebel jumped up, rotating her body until she was sitting half behind Kensie for support.

  “Good girl,” he told Rebel, but she didn’t even wag her tail in acknowledgment, just kept her serious gaze on Kensie.

  “Where is she?” Kensie demanded, her voice raw but gaining volume.

  Chief Hernandez yanked Henry to his feet and he groaned some more, shaking his head.

  Trusting Rebel to have Kensie’s back—literally—Colter stood, ignoring the new stiffness in his knee. He got in Henry’s face even as the chief gave him a warning look and angled the hip where her weapon was holstered away from him.


  “Where’s Alanna Morgan?” he demanded, so close he could feel Henry’s disgusting breath on his neck. “If I have to repeat my question, it won’t matter that there’s a cop here.”

  “Colter...” Chief Hernandez’s voice was full of warning, but also worry.

  She’d known him since he moved here. He’d even helped her break up a bar fight once when her backup was slow and his leg was in a cooperative mood. For the most part, they got along. But she’d never heard this tone from him. And he knew if he had to make good on his threat, she’d have to do her duty and protect the guy in cuffs.

  But he wasn’t going to let Henry hide behind an arrest now. “Tell me,” he growled.

  Henry’s face went pale as his gaze darted to Kensie. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Colter,” the chief snapped before he could respond. She yanked Henry back a few steps and he went willingly with her. Then her backup was in the room, a couple of cops Colter probably could have taken down in better days, but not now.

  “Colter.” Kensie’s softer voice came from behind him.

  He turned and realized she’d gotten to her feet. She sounded and looked terrible, with blue and purple streaks all the way across the front of her throat. But her balance was steady and her eyes were clear.

  “Let me do this,” she croaked.

  “Everyone just calm down,” the chief said as the other officers stood in front of Kensie, blocking Henry. “Jennings, give me your fingerprint kit.”

  “Hey, he attacked me,” Henry shouted, starting to struggle.

  “And you broke into this hotel room and attacked the occupant,” the chief replied calmly as she yanked her arm upward, pulling his cuffed hands up, too.

  Henry yelped and then Jennings was pressing his finger into a machine the size of a cell phone as the other officer kept his gaze locked on Colter and his hand locked over his pistol.

  “This is pretty cool, huh?” Jennings asked, excitement in his flushed cheeks and too-high tone. “Pretty much only the FBI has these, but we got a grant after this serial case a few years ago and...oh.”