The Military K-9 Unit Collection. Valerie Hansen

good to know but it doesn’t explain his strange aggression toward Felicity’s uncle.”

      Dr. Roark pumped hand sanitizer on his palm and rubbed his hands together. “Had he and Dakota ever met?”

      Westley thought about that. “Yes.” Patrick had shown up at Felicity’s house. “But Dakota hadn’t reacted at all then.”

      “Something must have happened between then and today,” the doctor suggested. “Something that made Dakota want to lash out?”

      But what? Westley hadn’t seen her uncle again until a little while ago. Could it be that Dakota had sensed the other man’s fear and reacted? No, Dakota wouldn’t have shown such extreme hostility because of the other man’s fear.

      It was a puzzle that Westley intended to unravel because he couldn’t have an undisciplined dog in the program. He would have to do some research and see if there was something in Dakota’s background before he came to Canyon that might explain his behavior.

      With Dakota by his side, they left the vet clinic and headed along the now darkened street toward the training center. When they reached the edge of the parking lot, Westley stopped short. A thought rammed into him with the force of a missile.

      What if Dakota had reacted so violently because he recognized the scent of the man who’d shot him?

      The realization made Westley stumble, and nearly go to his knees.

      Felicity!

      He had to get to her. To warn her. To protect her. From her uncle.

      At a run, he led Dakota to one of the training-center vehicles. He had keys to all the SUVs on his keychain. Quickly, he and Dakota jumped inside. He fumbled to find the right key and stuck it into the ignition.

      Headlights cut across the parking lot as one of the maintenance trucks pulled in and came to an abrupt halt. The driver’s door flew open, and Staff Sergeant Patrick Dooley hopped out, a gun in his hand.

      Dakota let out a snarl.

      “Quiet,” Westley admonished, not wanting to alert the other man to their presence. Breath lodged in his throat, he watched Patrick motion with the gun and Felicity climbed out of the vehicle.

      Westley’s heart stuttered to a crawl. Patrick was forcing Felicity to turn over the tablet. But what would Patrick do when he realized she didn’t have the combination to the safe?

      Holding his breath, Westley waited until Felicity and her uncle disappeared into the training center before he and Dakota jumped out of the SUV and raced to the door.

      There was no time to call for backup. Westley had to get inside before Patrick did something drastic.

      Swallowing back the fear of losing Felicity, Westley felt determination burn through his gut. He would do anything to save the woman he loved.

       THIRTEEN

      With the barrel of the gun pressing hard against her ribs, Felicity led the way through the training center toward the back office. The muted sound of dogs barking from the kennel filled the hallway.

      Glancing at her uncle, she noticed the beads of sweat on his brow and the tightness around his mouth. He was nervous. After hearing of his horrific ordeal when he’d been attacked by a vicious dog, she wanted to feel sorry for him, but any sort of tender emotions toward her uncle were gone.

      He’d basically admitted to killing her father, who’d supposedly been his best friend, and trying to kill her, his own niece.

      Her mother was going to be devastated.

      Felicity’s heart hurt for her mom.

      As they passed the break room, Lila Fields stepped out, nearly ramming into them.

      “Oh, I’m sorry,” the rookie trainer said, almost dropping the plate in her hand along with a buttered bagel.

      “No problem.” Felicity tried to keep her voice neutral and not let the panic show.

      Lila’s curious gaze landed on Patrick. “Hello.”

      Felicity gritted her teeth. The last thing she needed was Lila asking questions or becoming suspicious that something was wrong. She didn’t want anybody else’s life in danger. She needed Lila to go about her business so that Uncle Patrick wouldn’t feel the need to harm the woman.

      Hoping to keep her voice free of the fear making her heart boom in her ears and her fingertips tingle, she said, “Lila, this is my Uncle Patrick. We’re looking for Westley. Is he in his office?”

      “No, I believe he took Dakota to the vet.”

      Felicity’s stomach sank. She wasn’t sure what to do now. When Uncle Patrick realized she didn’t know how to get into the safe, he would go ballistic. She had to figure out a way to overpower him. A dismal prospect. He outweighed her by half, at least.

      “We’ll wait for him, then,” Uncle Patrick said. “In his office.”

      He gave Felicity a nudge with the barrel of the gun, effectively keeping the weapon out of sight, and kept his fingers tightly around her biceps.

      Leaving Lila with a nod, they continued down the hall. Once inside the office, Patrick gave her a little shove, forcing her to the middle of the room, while he shut the door.

      “Where’s the tablet?”

      “It’s in the safe.” She visually swept the room, searching for something to disarm him with, or to knock him out.

      Anger for all he’d done—a hit-and-run, killing her father, trying to kill her—burned like a torch inside of her. But there was nothing within reach to use as a weapon. Frustration beat against her temple. Her fingers curled at her side.

      Waving the gun, Patrick said, “Where’s the safe?”

      Felicity swallowed back the anxiety dampening her anger. “In the desk cabinet to the right.”

      Uncle Patrick moved to inspect the cabinet. Taking advantage of his distraction, she edged toward the door, hoping to make an escape. If she could get to the kennels, she could let the dogs loose. Uncle Patrick might run away.

      Or shoot one of the canines.

      On second thought, she couldn’t put the animals at risk, either.

      “Take one more step and you’ll regret it,” Uncle Patrick said, aiming the weapon at her head. “Open the safe.”

      “I don’t have the combination.” Holding up her hands, she spoke calmly, much more calmly than she felt. “Only Westley does.”

      She wasn’t sure if that was true. She supposed Caleb Streeter had access, but she wouldn’t volunteer that information. Who knew what Uncle Patrick would do.

      Uncle Patrick plopped down into one of the two side chairs and put his feet up on the desk. “Then we’ll wait for Master Sergeant James.”

      Apprehension bubbled up in her chest. She wished there was a way to warn Westley. She hated the thought of him walking in blind to the situation.

      She remained standing where she was between Uncle Patrick and the door, hoping that when Westley came in she could provide a shield. She could only pray that Lila would see Westley before he headed to the office and tell him they were waiting.

      At least that would give him a heads-up. But it wouldn’t tell him to be cautious. He had no idea her uncle was the one behind her father’s murder and the attempts on her life.

      She hoped Westley would cooperate with her uncle because she couldn’t stand it if anything happened to him.

      Deep inside she had to admit her concern for Westley’s welfare not only stemmed from the fact that they were friends and worked closely together, but also because her feelings for him had morphed