Page 10 of K-9 Justice (New Mexico Guard Dogs #6)

CHAPTER TEN

Carson rolled into her from the other side of the bed, jarring her back into the present.

She’d been awake for hours. Replaying Sebastian’s claims. That he’d killed Dr. Piel and those other women, that he’d been biding his time, proud of himself for taking up so much of her life. Every cell in her body wanted to live in denial, but none of it did his victims a bit of good. And that was all that mattered. The victims.

Ivy turned her attention to Carson. It hadn’t mattered before, but she needed to know. Had Dr. Piel been involved with Sangre por Sangre , or had Sebastian used Socorro’s physician as bait? To lure Ivy out into the open. To take someone she cared about away. To hurt her. The last few seconds before she’d collapsed into unconsciousness played at the edges of her mind. Of seeing Carson in the middle of the warehouse. Of not knowing which side he would choose in the face of her death. Would he have gone back to the cartel given the chance? Or had he meant what he’d said earlier about coming home?

Her mind was playing tricks on her again. Trying to create a threat when she was positive one wasn’t there. It did the same thing every night, keeping her awake for hours. Imagining scenarios in which everything she loved was taken from her. Where the Pentagon refused to re-up Socorro’s contract, leaving her team ungrounded and scattered. And where she learned of Carson’s death. Two years was a long time to give her anxiety the playground it needed to thrive. But, at the same time, had prepared her for the worst.

There was no way she was going to be able to sleep tonight. Dr. Cavill’s orders to get as much rest as possible could go to hell. Ivy slipped from the bed she and Carson shared, careful not to wake the mound of fur at the end. Her go bag had supplied everything she’d needed to survive for up to two weeks, but somehow she’d forgotten to pack something to sleep in. As though she’d tried to convince herself that survival didn’t require sleep. Instead, she’d taken one of Carson’s extra T-shirts. It was too big and drapey and exactly what she’d needed. Something comfortable that didn’t scratch at the dozens of bandages keeping her from falling to pieces.

She tiptoed to the bedroom door, looking back to ensure she hadn’t woken either Carson or Max. And froze. She’d come close to losing them back in that warehouse. She never wanted to feel that way again.

Ivy navigated through her old house as easily as she had done years ago. Muscle memory. This place… It had been her safe haven. Not just a house. She’d come to think of it as home. The first place she felt comfortable enough to be herself, to let go of the hurt and the pain and the defenses she’d weaponized on the job. Something entirely hers. Not connected to her past or her origin. Though there were times when those memories penetrated these walls, they didn’t have as much hold on her as they had back then. This was where she’d become her own person. Separate from the trauma and abuse and sexism.

It hadn’t been until Carson signed on as her partner that she’d imagined this home as anything more than her own personal barricade against the world. It had become something more. He’d somehow maneuvered his way into her life and made himself at home. As though he’d always belonged here, and, in a way, he had. He’d even made it easy. And when she’d brought Max home to meet him, it had felt like they’d become a family of her own creation. A team.

But when he’d accepted the assignment to go undercover within Sangre por Sangre , everything had changed. She’d no longer had the option to fantasize about the future. She had to give all that up in an attempt to keep him alive.

Ivy couldn’t help but run her fingers the length of the hallway as she headed toward the kitchen. This home was supposed to be theirs when the time was right, but that didn’t feel possible anymore. She spotted her go bag by the door where Carson had left it and dragged it to the kitchen counter. He’d made it clear she couldn’t contact her team or use any of the devices registered in her name, but she wasn’t going to sever herself from the intel she needed either. “Thank goodness for VPNs.”

Her operatives were equipped to handle any situation, including disappearing off the grid. While she preferred to use the resources available, she couldn’t risk bringing the cartel down on Carson and Max. Ivy unpacked a clean laptop, formatted and wiped thanks to her security operative for situations just like this. The subscription and credit card she’d registered the VPN under was set to an alias she’d used while in the FBI. Still active the last time she’d checked. The payments were made through an endless loop of shell corporations set up to keep anyone trying to track her going in circles. To give her the time she needed to drop off the radar. Just in case.

“Show me what you’ve got.” Ivy took a seat at the kitchen counter and logged in to her Socorro email. Hundreds of unread messages filled the queue. But she was only looking for one. “Bingo.”

She tapped the bolded message from Chief Halsey. Incident report: 914 NM-516, Aztec, New Mexico.

Followed up on your statement. Partnered with Aztec PD to raid the salvage yard. Suspect has not been located. See report attached.

Halsey had always been a man of few words. Maybe that was why she’d always liked him. His significant other, Jocelyn, was the complete opposite. Always offering a baked good in hopes of getting people to open up. They were perfect for each other.

The Alpine Valley chief of police would’ve had to pull a good amount of strings to get his hands on the incident report from another jurisdiction, but she couldn’t think about how she’d repay him right now. Opening the email, she scanned the first page of the file before moving on to the crime scene photos.

Yellow tents punctured through the whitewash of spotlights directing investigators to evidence. A saw blade tipped in blood, a stain directly below a hook mounted to the ceiling in the back office. A wrench angled diagonally across the floor twisted with dark hair.

Every image resurrected the pain in her side, but she moved on, forcing herself to take it all in. To relive the hours that would haunt her nightmares for years. There had to be something. Something to tell her who Sebastian really was. Blood, sweat, hair, fingerprints, cell phone GPS. It was impossible to interact with an environment and leave nothing behind. Especially given the advancements in forensics and technology.

She made a mental note to have Alpine Valley PD look into the Sensorvault data during the duration of her and Carson’s stay inside the warehouse. If Sebastian had a cell phone on him, the largest collection of phone GPS in the world would register the number. Possibly even locate it. “Come on. Give me something I don’t know.”

“Still talking to yourself?” Carson’s voice hitched her heart rate higher. He turned on the lights, coming into the kitchen. “You know that’s considered a red flag, right? I bet your Socorro psychologist would be very interested to hear about it.”

The onslaught to her vision receded after a few moments but broke her concentration. “The FBI didn’t seem to think it was a problem, and my current boss doesn’t give a crap. She just wants results. And Socorro doesn’t employ a psychologist.”

Which felt like an oversight on her part right then. Her operatives had come close to death, each and every single one of them, and while she believed in the power of love and finding their significant others to share that burden, love wasn’t always a solution.

“The FBI didn’t know about it. And your current boss is you.” He moved into the kitchen, opening the first cabinet. Only he didn’t seem to find what he was looking for. He continued on to the next and grabbed a glass from the shelf. “Still not sure how you were able to pass the psych eval after everything you’ve experienced.”

“Compartmentalization is a superpower.” She was only half invested in this back-and-forth they’d always had together. It had become something of a habit in the course of their partnership, but her attention was almost entirely focused on getting through Aztec PD’s crime scene photos.

“And is running off no sleep a superpower?” He filled his glass with water from the fridge and took a drink. “You were stabbed less than forty-eight hours ago, Ivy. You lost a lot of blood. When are you going to give your body a chance to slow down and heal?”

“As much as I appreciate your concern, it’s actually none of your concern.” Her own words pulled her out of the flow state she’d sunk into while studying the photos, and Ivy regretted them instantly.

Carson stepped back as though he’d been sucker punched. He stared down into his glass, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he was wishing he hadn’t come out here at all. “And here I thought we were still partners who gave a crap about each other. Has that changed?”

“We are. I do. I’m sorry. I just…” Ivy tore her attention from the computer. Because this…they were important. “I didn’t mean that the way that sounded. Of course I give a crap about you.”

“And yet you’re not convinced you’re worth giving a crap about.” The accusation hit harder than it should. “Do you know why I asked to be your partner all those years ago?”

That information caught her by surprise. “I wasn’t aware you had a choice.”

“I did. Your former partners, none of them wanted to work with you anymore. They saw you as a wild card who would do anything to close a case. No matter who you had to bulldoze in the process. You were difficult to work with, too blunt, too brash, too intense. Yeah, you closed more cases than anyone in our office, but it was at the expense of being one of the team.” Carson set his water glass on the counter. “I saw an agent who needed to know she wasn’t alone. That she had someone she could rely on, someone she could trust. I’ve tried to be that person for you, Ivy, but you’re still operating as though you’re the only one who can finish this mission.”

She didn’t know what to say to that, what to think. Except the truth. “I’ve always felt better alone. Because then no one could hurt me.”

“Do you really think, after everything we’ve been through, that I would hurt you?” he asked.

“Everyone is capable of hurting the people they care about.” Ivy let her gaze drift back to the computer. And she froze. Her brain latched on to the photo within a photo on the screen. “What the hell?”

Carson penetrated into her peripheral vision, coming around to get a better look. “What is this?”

“Crime scene photos. Of the salvage yard. It’s a long story.” She pointed to the burned remnants of paperwork and photos captured by Aztec PD. “Look at this. Where is this?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t come across a room like that,” he said. “It looks like an office.”

“It’s not the room I was hung upside down in. This is someplace new.” She tried to enlarge the photo, but there was only so much her laptop could process.

“So?” Carson didn’t see what she saw. Not yet.

“So, look at this partially burned photograph. Sebastian didn’t burn the entire thing before leaving it behind.” Dread spilled into her gut. Ivy shoved away from the counter and tipped her go bag upside down. She grabbed for the burner cell stuffed deep inside and punched in one of the numbers she’d memorized in case of emergency. Like now. “I’ve seen it before.”

“What am I missing?” Agitation tensed his shoulders.

“Dr. Piel wasn’t involved with Sangre por Sangre like we originally believed.” The phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times. Voicemail kicked in. Hey, it’s Jocelyn. Leave your— Ivy hung up and dialed again. No answer. “I think she was just the first target.”

* * *

“Can you make this thing go any faster?” Ivy held on to the handle above the passenger-side door as they raced into Alpine Valley. She’d tried calling her logistics coordinator, Jocelyn Carville, a dozen times without any answer.

Alpine Valley’s chief of police wasn’t answering either.

Carson floored the accelerator. Dirt gusted across the unpaved road in front of them, blocking out his view of the lights up ahead. Months ago an entire cliffside had buried Alpine Valley after a bitter chief of police attempted to bring down Sangre por Sangre himself. Even before that, the cartel had raided secluded towns like this, burning everything in its path.

Now a killer could be loose in Alpine Valley’s streets.

The engine revved higher at his touch, and the SUV bolted forward. “Try the police chief again.”

Ivy allowed herself a moment of unbalance and grabbed for her phone with her uninjured hand. She wasn’t supposed to be here. Her physician had specifically instructed her to rest, but trying to talk her out of helping one of her fellow operatives had been out of the question. She raised the phone to her ear. And waited. “No voicemail. It just keeps ringing. It’s like his phone is turned off. That’s not like Baker. He’s never been out of reach.”

Carson didn’t want to offer theories as to why Alpine Valley’s chief of police suddenly wasn’t available. No good came of catastrophizing. But there was a chance Sebastian or someone within the cartel had gotten to the chief and his Socorro partner first. There was no other reason why a photo of Jocelyn should’ve been in that warehouse office. “This isn’t your fault, Ivy. You didn’t bring this down on them.”

“That’s easy to say when you aren’t the one who is supposed to protect them.” She inhaled audibly. “My operatives—my team—have been there from day one. They believe in the cause just the same as I do, if not more. They’re the ones who are in the field. They’re the ones getting shot and stabbed and abducted. Because I pay them to. They risk their lives and the lives of the people they love because of me, and it’s up to me to make sure they make it out of this alive.”

Carson checked the rearview mirror, targeting Max lying across the back seat. The K-9 locked her gaze on him. “Max has been undercover with me since the day I was recruited by Sebastian. It was a risk bringing her with me, especially as young as she was, but I knew I needed the extra protection. I didn’t have anyone else as long as I was part of the cartel. She’s risked her life for me more times than I can count. Not because I asked her to. But because she loves me. Those operatives you have working for you, Ivy, they’re not just doing a job because you give them a paycheck in return. They believe in you. They trust you. They would’ve found a job that doesn’t get them shot and stabbed otherwise.”

She was quiet for a moment. “Should you get the chance to meet my team, I don’t recommend you tell them you just compared them to a German shepherd. It might not go over well.”

He couldn’t help but smile at that, at her willingness to add a bit of humor to a terrifying situation. Carson set his hand on her knee and squeezed. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

“I’m not sure that’s something you can promise, Carson.” Ivy faced him, the dim glow of the SUV’s control panel washing her in a blue tint. “We don’t even know what we’re walking into.”

“It doesn’t matter.” He didn’t know how to explain his own brand of confidence right there in that moment. “Because we’re walking in there together.”

Carson followed the navigation mounted between them, taking a hard right onto Alpine Valley’s Main Street. Evidence that the cartel had left its mark was everywhere, in half-burned buildings, new construction, and shaded windows this late at night.

“Up on the left.” Ivy was already peeling herself out of her seat by the time he came to a full stop in front of the modest rambler coated in a dark stucco. The house itself stuck out among the ones on either side of it with their traditional Mexican style and coloring, making it an easy target. She unholstered her weapon with her nondominant hand, but not as awkwardly as he’d assumed she would. Which meant she’d practiced shooting with both hands. Always ready for the next threat. “No lights on inside or vehicles on the streets. Do you see any movement around the perimeter?”

Carson shoved the SUV into Park, getting Max’s attention. She perked up in the back seat, then scanned her surroundings out the window. Ready. “No. Nothing.”

Still, something didn’t feel right. It was the same sensation of dread he’d experienced inside the salvage yard. He pulled his backup sidearm and checked the rounds left in the magazine. “We go in together. You go where I go. Understand?”

The last time they’d entered into a house with cartel inside, Ivy had ended up under the killer’s control, and it had taken Carson losing another kidney to get her back. He couldn’t go through that again.

“I understand.” No argument this time. No trying to take control of the situation. She was trusting him to put her operative and the chief of police at the top of his priority list. “They have a German shepherd. Maverick. He’s a bomb detection K-9 and fiercely protective of Jocelyn.”

“In that case, we’ll let Max go first.” Except Carson didn’t want to leave the safety of the vehicle. No. It wasn’t that. He’d gone headfirst into any number of situations with higher stakes. He didn’t want Ivy to leave the safety of the vehicle. But asking her to stay behind would betray their partnership, and he couldn’t turn back on his decision to come home now. Not when he was so close to getting the future he’d always wanted. “On three.”

“Three.” Ivy didn’t wait for the countdown. Every second they hesitated could cost her teammate, and she was the kind of person to take mistakes personally.

So Carson followed. He let Max out of the back seat, approaching the front door low and fast. Ivy moved in time with him despite her injuries. Whether by force or by habit, he wasn’t sure. They reached the front door, but Carson was the one to pull back the heavy metal screen protecting the aged wood. It was a recent installation. Considering the nature of the couple’s work, he was willing to bet the Socorro operative had added the extra measure of security. “Does your logistics coordinator have a Socorro security system, too?”

“No. Baker wouldn’t allow it. He doesn’t particularly agree with our values, but I imagine he’s got his own security system in place.” Ivy stood back enough to give him room to swing the screen door wide and test the doorknob.

The dead bolt hadn’t been engaged.

“Is he the kind that dares criminals to break into his home, or was this supposed to be locked?” Carson tried to make out a layout of the home with his limited vision, but the only way to get a read on the place was to step inside.

Ivy raised her weapon, taking the first step over the threshold. She led him straight into the living room with a hallway branching directly to the back of the house and what he assumed was the kitchen. Another branch went right. Most likely to the bedrooms. She scanned the living room gun first and allowed his nerves to take a step down. “Clear.”

He moved in behind her, then pushed ahead down the hallway. Max beat him to it, her tags tinkling together as she advanced. The kitchen was small and looked to be original, from what little he could see of the streetlights coming through the windows. No movement. No one waiting to ambush them. “Clear.”

They turned their attention to the hallway. “I’m thinking nobody is here, or Maverick isn’t a very good guard dog.”

Ivy didn’t answer, seemingly bracing herself as she moved into the hallway. The first bedroom housed an office. It belonged to the chief, from the disarray of paperwork on the surface of the desk. No logistics coordinator would be so careless. The room straight across from it looked to be a guest bedroom. Made up nice and tidy. Small bathroom with no windows midway through. A heavy metal garage door on the other side. Locked.

Two bedrooms sat at the end of the hall, almost making a T formation. Ivy took the one on the right. Carson the one on the left. He kicked the door inward. But the door stopped short of hitting the wall behind it. He hit the light switch near the door.

And found a body.

“Son of a bitch.” Holstering his weapon, Carson dropped to both knees and flipped the uniformed officer onto his back. Blood leaked from a head wound most likely caused by someone bashing his head in from behind. The man’s phone lay in pieces beside him. Would explain why Ivy’s calls never made it through. “I’m guessing this is the chief you’re looking for?”

Ivy abandoned her search. “Baker. Damn it.”

“He’s alive.” Carson almost lost himself in the relief at the feel of the chief’s pulse against his first two fingers. Broken skin and blood across the officer’s knuckles told a good story. “Busted up, from what I can see. Man put up a fight. Whoever was on the other end isn’t going to get far.”

More details came into view as Max bounded for another body across the room. Only this one wasn’t human. She sniffed at the unconscious German shepherd in concern.

The chief’s groan filled the room. Baker Halsey blinked at Carson a few times before some deep-rooted pain no one could see set in. Alpine Valley’s elected hero pushed his upper body off the floor. “Please tell me you’re here to get the recipe of Jocelyn’s famous chocolate chip cookies.”

“Chief, you were attacked,” Ivy said. “Did you see by who?”

“No. Sons of bitches caught me from behind. Must’ve been waiting behind the front door when I got home.” He set sights on the K-9 still unmoving a few feet away. Chief Halsey practically crawled to the dog and brought the German shepherd into his lap. “I got you, bud. Hell, Jocelyn’s going to murder me for letting them touch Maverick. Where is she?”

“She wasn’t with you?” Carson asked.

“What? No. I just got off shift. I came home. The house was dark, but I saw Maverick…” Fear contorted the chief’s face, and he maneuvered Maverick off his lap. Baker shoved to stand—unbalanced and grabbing for the nearest wall. Carson moved to assist but was rejected. “Jocelyn never goes anywhere without Maverick. They’re a team. Ivy, where the hell is my partner?”

Chief Halsey didn’t wait for an answer. He shoved into the hallway. “Jocelyn!”

“We’ve already searched the house. She isn’t here.” Ivy tried to keep up with the chief of police. In vain. The man was on a mission, the same kind of mission that had held Carson in its grip in that damn warehouse: getting to the woman he loved. “Baker, think. What can you remember up until you blacked out?”

“Jocelyn!” Baker flipped on every light in the place. The chief was reaching for his weapon, but the holster on his hip was empty. Whoever had attacked him had stripped him of his weapons. The man was close to losing it. He threaded both hands into his hair. “All right. Give me a minute. The sliding glass door. It was open when I came home. I thought something was off. We never go out there.”

Ivy bolted for the kitchen and out the back door.

“Stay here, Chief.” There was no telling what they would find. Carson followed Ivy into the backyard.

“Go to hell,” Baker said. “That’s my partner.”

The motion-sensor spotlights lit up.

Exposing the woman left for dead in the middle of the yard.