LITMIR.BIZ

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around its neck. The shepherd wore no collar or ID band but since each member of the training project had been microchipped, he knew the dog would easily be identified.

      Streeter had left the vehicle, and Linc handed him the dog he’d caught. “Looks like this poor guy missed a few meals. Do you want me to hang around down here a little longer, just in case others show up?”

      Streeter shook his head. “No. I’ll load this one and cruise the rest of the neighborhood.”

      “Copy,” Linc replied. He didn’t particularly like taking orders from a sergeant who was technically not his boss, but it was a reasonable request. Besides, he wasn’t eager to return to the Sullivan apartment until he’d figured out why being there had rattled him so.

      He’d realized he’d carelessly let down his guard. That was a mistake. A huge mistake. One he would not repeat.

      * * *

      “Look, Mama. Another puppy!” Freddy was peering through the screen as Zoe steadied him.

      “I see them. Looks like your friend Star has somebody to play with.”

      “I wanna go play, too.”

      “Not now, honey. The policeman is working and so is his dog. We have to stay up here and just watch.”

      “Aww.”

      “No whining.” Zoe tried to distract him. “How about a game on the iPad? You can make some doggies wag their tails.”

      “Naw. I wanna watch real puppies. They’re soft. I love them.”

      “Not all dogs are as nice as Star,” Zoe warned, “and she might not be fun if Sergeant Colson didn’t tell her it was okay. You need to be very careful with all dogs. Ask permission before you try to pet them. Promise?”

      Freddy nodded vigorously, but Zoe had doubts he’d take her advice until he was older and wiser. That was the trouble with small children. Until they’d had experience, they were willing to try just about anything. After today, she would have to be doubly vigilant about his interactions with strange animals.

      A noise behind her caught Zoe’s attention. Frowning, she froze. What was that? It sounded like the squeak in the hallway floor. Listening intently, she didn’t hear it repeated. Nevertheless, she started to glance over her shoulder.

      Nothing there. She began to feel foolish. Boy, am I jumpy. She was turning back to the window when she sensed more than saw movement in her peripheral vision. Instinct made her tighten her hold on her son. Was there actually somebody there?

      An instant later, she whirled and put substance to her jitters. A figure in a dark hoodie was tiptoeing across the far end of the small living room!

      Zoe thrust Freddy behind her and held him there, hoping and praying she didn’t look as scared as she was. With the hoodie masking the side of his face, there was no way to identify the intruder. One thing was certain—he was too slightly built to be Boyd.

      “Get out of here,” Zoe ordered, relieved that the quaking of her insides wasn’t reflected in her voice.

      The figure stopped dead. Nobody moved. Zoe could feel the pounding of her pulse in her temples.

      A weapon. She needed a weapon. Anything with which to defend her innocent child. But what? The only people on base who were armed were members of the Security Forces and posted guards. Casting about, she saw nothing usable. That left bravado as her only option, and lots of it.

      “I said get out of here.” It was a commanding order, almost a shout, and Zoe felt her son grasping her legs from behind, the way he did when he was frightened.

      A hand with slim but masculine fingers rose to pull the sides of the hood closer. The man dipped his head, averted his gaze momentarily, then pulled something from his pocket.

       A knife!

      Zoe gasped. Her resolve deepened, hardened, became the wall she needed to protect her little boy. She dropped into a combative stance, feet apart, arms extended and ready to fend off the coming attack. No lowlife with a blade was going to get past her. Not if she had anything to say about it.

      Freddy had backed off and begun to cry as she’d prepared to do battle. The attacker turned to the boy for an instant, then focused back on Zoe.

      She grabbed her jacket off the couch and wrapped it around one forearm, never letting her concentration stray. The man seemed hesitant, as if having trouble choosing his next move. That was to her advantage. She didn’t want to face him hand to hand but intended for him to believe she would.

      Her mouth was so dry she couldn’t swallow, let alone muster a convincing threat. So there they stood as the seconds ticked off, Zoe braced and ready and her adversary hesitating until the hand with the weapon began to visibly shake.

      She had him worried. Good. Now all she needed to do was force him to bolt. Would a charge do it? Maybe. And maybe it would trigger his predatory instincts and drive him toward her.

      Before she could decide, Freddy touched the back of her leg and whimpered. “Mama?”

      Habit caused her to react. She eased her stance momentarily and lowered one outstretched hand toward the boy. That was all the opening her enemy needed. He leaped at her, falling short because she dodged just in time.

      With a guttural roar, she charged, coming in low and catching him at the waist the way a football player would take out an opponent.

      The man stumbled backward and fell.

      Zoe went for the knife and managed to grab his wrist before he threw her off and started to scramble away with his weapon.

      She raised the hoodie-wrapped forearm in case he chose to turn and slash at her. Time seemed to slow to a snail’s pace. He flipped onto his hands and knees, combat boots slipping on the slick flooring, and crabwalked until he could regain his footing.

      Zoe screamed, afraid he was going to detour toward her son.

      Freddy was already at the window, waving his hands and yelling, “Help,” in his screechy little voice.

      The attacker threw the bolt and jerked open the door. Momentum carried him into the hallway.

      Breathless, Zoe followed, inhaled as deeply as she could and let loose with a blood-curdling shriek. “Colson! Stop him!”

       FIVE

      Linc was moving toward the apartment building before he knew what was happening. Star ran ahead of him, barking.

      He took the stairs two at a time, reaching the second floor and immediately spotting Zoe braced in her open doorway.

      “What’s wrong?”

      She gestured with her arm. “A man. That way. Down the back stairs. Camo pants and a dark hoodie.”

      Star was straining at her leash. Linc drew her in and hesitated only long enough to ask Zoe, “Are you okay?”

      “Yes! Go! Don’t let him get away.”

      He would have given Star a tracking command if he’d felt it was necessary. In this case, she was clearly on the fresh trail and needed no more encouragement. Had Zoe forgotten to lock her door after him? Worse, could he have overlooked someone hiding in the apartment? He’d checked it thoroughly.

      Except for the room where Portia had been, Linc added, berating himself. Careless. Unprofessional at best. He had allowed himself to assume that the teenage girl was alone when she may have had company. She wouldn’t be the first babysitter to entertain friends when she should have been minding a child. The instant messaging beeps from her iPad and the absorbed look on her face had thrown him enough that he’d never thought of checking the room further.

      But he’d surprised Portia. How would a friend have had time to hide? More important,

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