Page 41 of Savior
He gives me a slow, knowing nod, but doesn’t call me out on my bullshit.
“Getting dark,” he says. “We should round up Rocky.”
“What? That’s all?”
He pauses and leans down to touch his lips to mine. “It’s a start.”
The couple with the beagle opens the gate, and in his excitement, Rocky bounds out of the opening and down the sidewalk to water the bushes and sniff all the new scents. Logan starts to go after him, but I wave him off. “I’ll get him and be right back.”
Logan is right, the park has been severely neglected. Rocky disappears behind the bushes and down an overgrown sidewalk. I groan and quicken my pace. The shadows lengthen the deeper I go, and I don’t realize until I’m swallowed up by the brush how dark it’s gotten.
“Rocky? C’mere boy!”
Twigs snap, and I hear the soft chuff of his heavy pants. I follow the sound around a bend and find him investigating a tree.
“Rocky, Logan’s waiting for us. Let’s go and we’ll get you a treat.”
A chill skitters over my spine. One so familiar it steals the breath straight from my lungs. I spin around, but the path behind me is empty. I’m probably being overly paranoid. A year on the run will do that to you. Even if it’s only from yourself.
Rocky finally abandons the bush and trots to my side. I clip the leash onto his collar. “Silly boy. You shouldn’t go wandering off like that.”
We start to head back down the path. I can see the dog park and Logan’s truck through the trees, but we don’t make it that far.
Rocky freezes next to me, and I can almost see his muscles rippling underneath his fur, which is standing straight up. He bunches close to my side, and his body vibrates with a growl.
“Rocky?”
I automatically behind my back and then curse underneath my breath. This. This is exactly why I carry a gun and why I don’t get involved. I’ve known Logan for a short time, and he’s already distracting me. It could be nothing—probably just a kid—but I’d feel better with the weight of my gun in my hand.
A shadow steps out onto the path, and at first I think it’s Logan coming to look for us, but the proportions are all wrong.
Icy fingers dance along my nerves, and this time I pay attention. The figure moves closer, and I curse every single muscle in my body for being frozen in fear. All those hours of self-defense classes are proving completely useless. I try to calm myself—this is a public park . . . not every single person I walk by wants to hurt me . . . I don’t have a reason to be afraid.
I’m being paranoid. The incident Logan was called out on stirred up old memories, that’s all. This guy seems friendly enough. I’m just overreacting. Rocky’s still quivering by my side, but I urge him forward with a sharp tug on his leash.
Just as we pass the man, who’s still steeped in shadows, he lunges and light explodes across my vision.
Logan
As Sienna goesto retrieve Rocky, I start the truck and wait for her. Maybe I’ll bring her back to my place, put in a movie, eat the leftovers from the B&B. I’ve learned the only thing I need to do to get her to agree is distract her, which I’m looking forward to.
A few minutes pass, and I spend it imagining getting my hands on her again and listening to music. A few songs play, and I start to watch the woods a bit closer. She should have been back by now. I pull out my shoulder holster and slip it on out of habit. Her constant vigilance and the attack on Faith Gallagher have my instincts on high alert.
There’s a chance I’m overreacting—and I hope to Christ I am—but I’ve learned to trust my gut. Right now it’s telling me there’s a reason why she hasn’t come out of those woods.
The other family with the small dog have already left, and I’m alone in the lengthening shadows of the decrepit park. Faith Gallagher was attacked under these same conditions: at night, in a park, and with people nearby.
I’d call out, but if there is someone nearby, I don’t want to spook them. If there’s not, I don’t want to frighten her.
I keep my hand at the ready as I move down the same sidewalk that Sienna took. I walk slowly, scanning the dark woods around me and listening for any sign of her or Rocky. Nails click against the concrete sound seconds before Rocky appears around the bend in front of me.
A low whine comes from his throat, and when I put a reassuring hand to his neck, I find him trembling. “Where is she?” I steady him with a couple long swipes down his back. “Find Sienna.”
Rocky nudges my leg with his shoulder and then starts off in a steady trot, looking back at me every few seconds to make sure I’m still following close behind.
“Good boy.” I pull out my gun as I round the bend. She wouldn’t have let Rocky go by himself unless something was keeping her. “Good boy,” I repeat. “Find Sienna.”
The sidewalk is split by roots from the surrounding trees and is littered with leaves and fallen branches, but there’s no Sienna.