mistake that had left a young boy orphaned.
Now Zara had been threatened.
Determined not to let that mistake be repeated, Dylan said, “She needs protection.”
* * *
Zara’s hackles rose at Dylan’s pronouncement. Really? He thought she couldn’t take care of herself? For a moment she focused her attention on the loud Hawaiian-print shirt peeking out from beneath his jacket and covering his official unit polo. She reined in her hurt and disappointment. She swung her gaze to her father, then to Max. “That’s not necessary. Radar and I will be fine. The guy doesn’t know who I am, and there’s no way for him to find out.”
“Unless the press gets hold of this story,” Dylan pointed out.
She knew that keeping the press and the public unaware of their classified missions was paramount to the success of the team. However, because of the dogs, the handlers had to be identifiable in certain situations, so the FBI provided a variety of uniforms and gear for different occasions. But to preserve the secret nature of their work the team’s public relations officer could devise a cover story. Zara assumed that would be the case here.
Dylan’s normally jovial expression had been replaced with one of granite. His kind eyes had darkened with concern, tempering her annoyance. She could see his knuckles turning white around the machine in his hand.
She understood his worry. She knew what had happened with his mom and dad. But his father’s situation had been completely different. There had been no way Brian O’Leary could have known the drunk he’d arrested, George Pitts, would make good on his slurred threat to extract revenge.
The O’Learys had gone out on the Yellowstone River in their boat for a relaxing Sunday afternoon, not expecting George would be released from jail and follow them. George had rammed into their boat, killing himself, Beth and Brian O’Leary. Only Dylan had survived.
Compassion flooded her, and she put her hand on Dylan’s arm. “I’ll be careful. I promise. Besides, I have Radar. He’s getting better every day.”
So was she. The mandatory trauma counseling was helping her deal with the residual shock from the case that had ended in a bomb detonating and the gut-wrenching fear from nearly being killed.
That her partner had alerted on the burglary was a great step in his recovery. Their training with Faith and Thomas at the FBI training center was paying off. And soon, if God granted her prayer, she and Radar would become members of the FBI’s most elite K-9 unit.
She turned back to her father. “Are we done now?”
His lips flattened with displeasure. She wasn’t sure if it was directed at her or the situation. “Yes. For now.”
The device Dylan held chirped, drawing his attention. He whistled through his teeth. “We have a problem.” He looked up, his complexion paling. “The suspect, Kevin Vaughn, is a known associate of the Dupree Crime Syndicate.”
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
