Caleb (The K9 Files Book 11) by Dale Mayer (moboreader txt) 📗

alarm. Now Caleb knew that the hunt would really be on. He stopped to catch his breath, and the dog looked up at him. Caleb put Beowulf down and asked, “Can you run?”

The dog whimpered, and Caleb nodded at him and said, “I know, but we got to do this, buddy. We got to do this.” And together they headed cross-country on the far side and ran as far away from the men as he could and as far away from the tracks as he could. A creek was up ahead, and they needed that to help mess up their tracks—unless the bad guys had tracking dogs, and that would be bad news very quickly.

But now Caleb had some firepower, and that was a whole different ball game. With the dog at his side, they crossed the country as fast as their legs would carry them. Again he bent down, picked up the dog, and ran with him in his arms, but, this time, Caleb raced as fast as his legs would pelt out the miles underneath him—because he knew their time was up, and they would have men and dogs all over them in a heartbeat.

He crossed the creek, running downstream a good while—at least a mile, a mile and a half—and let the dog have a good drink. At that point in time, Caleb cooled down and had several drinks too. Then, on the other side, Beowulf seemed to pick up a little bit of energy. Both a little cooler now, they raced across the open field. Caleb had to get Beowulf to the trees on the other side, where they had cover. By the time they threw themselves into the copse on the other end, he heard voices.

He stopped to catch his breath and turned to look behind him. Men were in the bush on the far side, but nobody pointed in Caleb’s direction. With the dog trembling at his side, Caleb had the two of them stay among the trees; he pulled out the rifle, using its site to figure out just how many were here. Three were on this side, and he couldn’t see anybody else, except one had turned away and was walking back.

“Are they giving up?” he murmured. He hoped so, but he didn’t expect it would be easy. If the bad guys gave up on this side, somebody would still come after Caleb and Beowulf on the other side of the border. This asshole’s operation was that big to warrant this, in Caleb’s mind, not even knowing for sure what the asshole did. Caleb didn’t know how to get out of this permanently. But he had to get the dog out of here because it would be the next to die. No doubt that it already had been marked for the kill. And, even worse, Beowulf would be fed to his comrades out there.

Caleb waited and watched, but it looked like they were in the clear. He quickly sent a text to Laysha. Out free and clear. She immediately responded with a thumbs-up. He smiled at that. He texted back. Give me 25.

She gave him another happy emoji, and he turned to look at the dog and said, “Now we need to get the hell out of here for good.” But the dog, at this point, no longer fought him and seemed to trust him, which was a good thing, because they had a long way to go, and Caleb needed that assist. With the dog in tow and him watching every step they made, the two of them headed toward the cantina. He was afraid to come in too close and wondered seriously about looking for another location. Just when he decided that was the answer, a truck drove past, close enough that he saw it was full of gunmen.

Instead of texting, he grabbed his phone, called her, and said, “Get out of there now.”

“Where do you want to meet up now?” she said calmly.

He thought about it for a second and said, “Head to the border.”

“I’m not going home without you,” she said.

“Head to the border, and I’ll call you with a new location,” he said. “We’re surrounded by gunmen everywhere. I need you out of that cantina and fast.”

“I already am. As soon as you told me to move, I moved.”

He could feel some of his stress draining away. “Good, head back to the border. I’ll circle around and see what other location we can arrange for a pickup.”

“What shape is the dog in?” she murmured.

“Not good, his back end is injured,” he said.

“Poor thing.”

“Even worse, I think the man they shot and killed was fed to the other dogs.”

“Oh, God,” she breathed into the phone.

“I think Beowulf was marked for being food the next time too.”

“But that’s so wrong,” she said.

“Maybe, but that’s where we’re at.” He studied the country around him. “I’ll go cross-country and head for the bush and see if I can come back around on the border.”

“A lot of ranch territories around here.”

“There is, and that’s good because we need as much open space as we can get,” he said.

“Okay, I’ll drive toward home,” she said. “I’ll find a place to settle in off to the side. As soon as you have some idea where to pick you up, let me know.”

“Will do,” he said, and, at that, he hung up. He turned to look at the dog and asked, “You ready, Beowulf?” The dog looked up at him and gave a tiny sharp bark. “Good enough,” he said. “Let’s go.”

And he picked up the pace and headed toward Texas. They had a lot of miles to go, and cross-country would be the easiest on both of them. He just wanted to make sure that Laysha got out of there safe and sound.

Otherwise he’d have another reason to come back and to really raise Cain. Caleb had hoped to get the dog away and to leave the asshole alone. Set the cops on him