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Wounded Warrior K-9

Page 22

by Julie Miller

He seemed to be evaluating his words. Petting the dog. Then his chin dipped with the barest of nods. “Are there many people at your sessions?”

Was Moody Sergeant Manly Man saying yes to her asking him out? “Just the trainer and me. And the dogs.”

“We could have coffee afterward. The good stuff.”

She’d take it. A smile stretched across her face. “I’d like that.” She reached into her bag and pulled out her phone. “If you give me your number, I’ll text you the details. Or call if you prefer.”

“Text will do fine.” He pulled out his phone, as well.

She’d just pinged his phone so he could capture her number when his head swiveled toward the window. “Brown car.” He pulled out a napkin and a pen without losing track of the sedan cruising past. “Got ya.”

Even if his tone hadn’t ground down to gravel, she would have picked up on the tension tightening his shoulders. “Daniel? What’s going on?”

He ordered Pirate out of the booth and jotted something down before sliding the napkin across the table to her. “Think your dad would run a license plate number for me?”

“Probably. If I ask.”

Ignoring his coat, he hooked Pirate up to his leash and scooted across the bench seat. “Call him.”

Polly picked up the napkin and read the plate number. She turned to the window to see if she could spot the car that made him so suspicious. When she turned back to ask which way it had gone, she faced an empty seat. “Daniel?” She spun around to see him and the dog running to the front door. Pirate’s tail wagged in anticipation. “Where are you going?”

He paused a split second to look back before shoving the door open. “Stay here,” he ordered. “Pirate, with me.”

Polly scrambled to get her bag off her lap and slide out of the booth. “Wait.”

She saw them run past the window.

“Polly?” Mollie left her seat on the stool beside her husband and hurried over. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m not sure. Something about a car that just drove by.” Her feet finally hit the black-and-white tiles. “Don’t worry. We’re not running out on the bill.” She glanced to the door as new customers came in, and back out the window, hating that she could no longer see man or dog. The need to go after them jolted through her legs. She snatched up her bag from the seat and shoved it into Mollie’s arms. “Here. Just so you know we’re not stiffing you on the check. I’ll be back.”

Mollie’s husband and her dog had come up behind her. “What’s the problem?”

But Polly was already charging out the door.

The cold air hit her like a slap across the face, reminding her she’d run outside without her coat, but clearing her panic enough to search the street and sidewalk for any sign of Daniel. She spotted them in the next block, and she took off after them. But they abruptly stopped. Daniel’s head swiveled back and forth before they came back to the corner and studied the cross street and parking lot across from the diner.

Polly caught up to him in the middle of the crosswalk. Pirate danced around Daniel’s legs, but the gusts of their breaths formed clouds in the cold air, and she couldn’t make out his expression. “Daniel!”

Pirate barked. Daniel turned, looking stunned to find her behind him. “Poll?”

“Was it the same brown car?”

The light changed. A horn honked. Someone screamed a warning. She saw the alert flash across his face a split second before she heard brakes screeching behind her. A brown car swung around the vehicle stopped at the light and barreled toward the intersection.

Before she could speak, Daniel whipped his arms around her and pulled her hard against his chest. For a moment, her breath caught at the feel of him—strong, solid, warm—sheltering her from the night wind and the roar of the engine as he flung them out of the way.

Her feet left the pavement. Pirate yelped, somehow flying right along with them. Daniel tried to spin to take the brunt of the fall. But the three of them tangled together as they hit the concrete and tumbled together until they slammed to a stop against the curb. She swore she felt the heat of the car at her back as it screeched around the corner and raced away into the night.

Her scrubs weren’t much of a barrier to the scrape of hard pavement against her knees or the ice-cold slush at the curb soaking into their clothes. With a whine, Pirate scrambled to his feet and shook himself off. That’s when she saw that Daniel had a tight grip on the dog’s leash. He had probably lifted them both and dived to the side to keep them from getting hit by the speeding car.

Battling her own shock, she stared down at the man lying beneath her. He seemed pale and—oh, hell. Had he hit his head? Was he breathing? “Daniel!” She rubbed her fist in circles against his chest, trying to stimulate his breathing and heartbeat. “This is my battle, not yours. If you get hurt…” She pressed her fingers against the side of his neck. There was a pulse. Thready, but it was there. “Daniel! Come back to me. I need you.”

When Pirate dipped his head and swiped his long tongue across his face, Daniel groaned. His chest heaved as he drew in a deep breath. He coughed violently and sat up, spilling her onto his lap. But his left arm remained cinched around her even as he pushed the dog out of his face. “Damn dog. Good dog. Knocked…wind…out of me.”

“Oh, thank God. You scared me.”

“Polly?” His eyes blinked open and he pushed himself up onto the curb, keeping her on his lap. “You shouldn’t be out here,” he murmured. “Where’s your coat?”