Caleb (The K9 Files Book 11) Dale Mayer (thriller novels to read TXT) 📖

he just now had finally gained. His brother be damned. Jackson could have Caleb’s ex-wife. Laysha was on Caleb’s horizon. And she was worth waiting for.

Chapter 14

Laysha drove straight toward him, overwhelmed to see him safe and sound. She studied the dog as she drove into the parking lot. He looked like he’d been through a rough couple months. But she also saw something so majestic within him that her heart broke when she thought about what he must have gone through at the hands of that asshole.

She pulled in to the side and parked. She let the dogs out, hoping that was okay, managing to clip the leash on her three rather excited ones, whereas Graynor was always well behaved. Graynor walked up wearily to the side of Caleb, studying the other dog lying at Caleb’s side.

Beowulf’s ears were up, and he studied Graynor with interest. Obviously recognizing a kindred soul of some kind. When Graynor arrived with the three yappy things, Beowulf seemed to accept that they were part of the pack. Graynor walked over, and the two big dogs sniffed. No animosity, no anger. As if one old soldier recognized a wounded one. Laysha walked over, and Caleb stood and opened his arms. She raced into them, and, when they closed around her, she whispered, “I was so scared for you.”

“For me?” he said. “How do you think I felt, knowing some asshole followed you?”

She smiled. “I got rid of him though,” she said, “but it took the cops and the other guys to do it.”

“I’m just sorry it had to happen that way at all,” he said gruffly. “Not very good on my part.”

“Why do you figure?” She looked up at him carefully. “You can’t protect everyone all the time.”

He squeezed her and tugged her back into his arms. “Maybe not,” he said, “but I sure as hell don’t want to see you going through that again.”

“Hey, I’m right with you there on that one,” she said. She stopped, crouched in front of the War Dog, and gently offered the back of her hand for the dog to staff. He sniffed, and his tail wagged ever-so-slightly. “How’s he been?”

“Well, he’s sore. He’s tired. He needs a vet to make sure that that hindquarter will be okay. I think it’s infected. Maybe a bullet burned through the muscle,” he said. “I’ve checked it out as much as I can, but it needs a good wash. We might have to sedate him for that.”

“Poor thing,” she murmured. “You sure it’s him?”

“Yes, while I was sitting here, I sent images of the tattoos to Badger, and it’s Beowulf. The vet should check the microchip on him, but, as far as I’m concerned, this is Beowulf.”

The dog lifted his head in their direction at his name.

“Even his markings are fairly identifiable,” she said, studying the irregular brown-black pattern on his ears. “I feel so bad for him,” she murmured. “And for the other dogs.”

“I know,” he said. He stared at Beowulf. “Do you have a vet?”

She nodded. “And he does house calls.”

Caleb frowned at that and said, “I don’t know if we can knock him out and do whatever is needed on a house call, can we?”

“Let’s phone and ask,” she said. She pulled out her phone and phoned her favorite vet. When Sandy the receptionist answered, Laysha explained what the problem was.

“As long as it’s not major surgery, then the vet can come fully equipped, yes,” she said, “but, if we’ve got to give him general anesthesia and knock him out, then we need to keep him here.”

“Maybe it’d be better to run him down there right now,” she said, “if you guys have time to take a look at him.”

“That would probably be best. Let me check the schedule.” She came back and said, “We can squeeze you in at the end of the day.”

“Which is only what? Half an hour?” she said in a note of humor.

“Make it an hour,” Sandy said.

“Good enough,” she said, putting away her phone, as she relayed the message to Caleb.

He nodded and said, “That’s not bad. We’re maybe twenty minutes from there anyway?”

“Given the rush-hour traffic now, if we went straight there, we’d be lucky to make it,” she said with a wry twist. “El Paso is not exactly a small town anymore.”

“Not sure it ever was,” he said. “Let’s head over and see if we can get all the dogs into the truck as it is.”

She nodded. “You drive. I’ll take the three little ones upfront. Do you think Graynor and Beowulf would be all right to take over the back seat?”

“I think so,” he said. “You put Graynor in first.”

She walked around to the side and opened up the far passenger door, ordering Graynor up. The huge German wirehaired pointer hopped up lightly and settled on the cushion. She closed the door, loaded the three little ones into her front passenger area, two on their feet with Fancy in her arms, while Caleb slowly ordered Beowulf into the back. The dog had no trouble getting to the bottom footwell but struggled to get up on the seat. Gently giving him a hand, Caleb raised him onto the seat, lay the rifle on the floor and closed the door. He came around to the driver’s side, hopped in, and said, “Well, we got a houseful.”

“A ready-made family,” she said lightly.

“This kind I can handle,” he said with a grin.

She smiled at that and settled in for the drive.

She was right. The traffic was pretty rough. There was not only construction but also an accident. She wondered if she should phone and say they were coming, but she had been held up tending to the dogs, and then they pulled in just a minute late. As they slowly unpacked all the dogs, Laysha walked up to the front door, and Sandy saw her, now unlocking the door to bring her in.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t make it,” she said.

“So