Renegade (Tin Star K9 Series Book 1) by Jodi Burnett (literature books to read .txt) 📗

around the room. In a flash, her dog sprang on the man, his fangs tearing into his biceps. The attacker screamed at the torment of his shredded flesh. He wielded his gun as a club and spun to defend himself against the wolf-like teeth. When he raised his arm, the butt of the pistol cracked Caitlyn in the temple and she dropped to her knees, fighting for consciousness.

The man swung his weapon again and slammed it against Renegade’s skull, two, three, four times. Her sweet dog yelped with each blow. It wasn’t until the fifth strike that he released his hold. He opened his jaws and fell to the floor.

“Renegade!” screamed Caitlyn. Or she thought she screamed, but she couldn’t open her mouth. Heavy footsteps retreated, and the backdoor slammed. An engine roared away. Thank God. He must have thought we were both dead. She needed to get to Renegade. Caitlyn tried her voice again. Words sprang to her lips, but only muffled whimpers sounded from them. She drifted, wrestling with the shadows that snaked across her mind.

Later, Caitlyn came to with no idea how long she’d been out. She pushed herself up from the floor to her knees. The searing pain in her head pulsed, causing her to throw up on the carpet. She took shallow breaths and forced her eyes to open. Renegade.

The beautiful body of her dog, her best friend, lay lifeless at the edge of the living room carpet in the center of a pool of broken glass. A sob tore from Caitlyn’s throat as she crawled forward. She reached out her bruised arm, and though it felt like a searing blade pierced her forearm, she rested her hand on the side of Renegade’s face. “Oh, Ren, I’m so sorry,” she cried.

A soft whimper echoed from inside Renegade’s throat. Burning tears washed through Caitlyn’s eyes. She scooted closer to her dog. “Renegade? Are you okay, boy?” She stroked his face, and he opened his eyes. Moonlight reflected in his dilated pupils that spoke of great pain. Her head was too heavy for her to hold any longer, and she rested it on the carpet next to him. “You’re going to be okay, boy. I’ve got you now,” she whispered as she floated off on dark clouds.

Caitlyn jerked awake again, sometime later. She licked her dry lips and tasted blood. With her fingers, she prodded her back jeans pocket for her phone. It was still there and hopefully hadn’t been destroyed in the attack. She pulled out the device and saw a spiderweb of fractured glass on the screen. “No, no, no.” Pushing the button to turn it on, she pressed the numbers and dialed 911. Relief washed over her when the voice of a woman at the county dispatch answered. Caitlyn explained as quickly and clearly as she could manage that an intruder had attacked her in her home. “Please send help, right away.”

“Do you need medical attention?”

“No. I think I’ll be fine. Just send a sheriff.” Caitlyn curled up next to Renegade to wait and drifted once again away from her pain.

20

Colt received the call from the dispatcher, immediately recognized Caitlyn’s address, and responded he was on his way. He’d been on his nightly patrol through Moose Creek and the nearby ranches, and was driving in the opposite direction, when he clicked on his lights and siren. In the middle of the highway, he spun the wheel, and making a U-turn, he flooded his turbocharged engine with fuel. He barreled through the night toward Caitlyn’s place. Each mile seemed a light year until he came to a skidding halt in her yard.

The predawn sky was brightening, and he noticed at once the smashed-in picture window. There were no lights on in or around the cabin, and an icy dread clawed at his chest. As he jumped out of the Jeep, he unholstered his gun and held it with both hands in firing position. He crept toward the front door. The splintered shards from the window fell inward. The intruder must’ve thrown something through the plate glass to gain entry. Colt approached the edge of the window casing and peered into the cabin. The interior was too dark for him to see anything, except for a lone flashlight beam glowing from its spot on the floor.

Fearing the intruder was still there, as quietly as he could, Colt continued to the front entrance. Wrapping his fingers around the knob, he slowly turned. It was unlocked. Holding a small Maglite on the top of his gun, Colt eased the door open and panned the room. Caitlyn was there, sprawled on the floor next to her equally still dog. Her long dark hair cascaded over splintered shards of glass. “Catie!” he whispered harshly. He flashed his light throughout the great room. No one else was there. He rushed to her and crouched down to feel for a pulse in her neck. A weak bump pressed against his fingertips. She was alive! Thank, God!

His training insisted he clear the house to be sure they were no longer in danger before he did more for Caitlyn, but it killed him to leave her lying injured and unconscious—helpless on the floor. He sped through the cabin, clearing the bathroom and Caitlyn’s bedroom. There was no sign of anyone. Certain the intruder was gone, Colt ran to Caitlyn. Gently, he rolled her to her back, checking her for wounds. It appeared she was bleeding only from her head, which was bad enough. He patted her cheek. “Catie? It’s me, Colt. You’re safe, honey. Can you wake up for me?”

A weak groan spilled from Caitlyn’s mouth. Her eyes flickered. She stared unseeing for a few seconds before her vision focused on him. “Colt?” She strained to sit up.

“Don’t try to move. I’m calling an ambulance.”

“No. I’m fine… Renegade.” The four words seemed to wear her out.

Colt reached for her dog’s neck. Assuming that’s where he would look for a pulse in a dog,