used the crook of his finger to lift her chin and draw her gaze to his. The tenderness in his eyes made her breath hitch, but it was the flare of attraction she saw in them that sent her pulse skyrocketing.
He dipped his head but halted inches from her lips, giving her the choice.
She didn’t have to think about it. She wanted him to kiss her. Had for so long, even though she would never have admitted it to anyone, least of all to herself.
Had her former irritation and annoyance with Westley been more about an attraction she hadn’t wanted to acknowledge?
Deciding to stay in the moment rather than analyze the past, she rose on her toes, closing the gap, and pressed her mouth to his. His lips were warm and firm, yet so gentle.
One hand stayed at the small of her back, while his other cupped the back of her head.
A low growl filled her head. It took a moment for her to register the sound. Dakota. They’d left him on guard duty in the hall beneath the attic opening. Was he protesting being left out?
Westley drew back. Their gazes met, and questions ricocheted through her mind. What did the kiss mean? Did she want it to mean something? Did he?
Dakota’s growl turned into a bark of alarm, sending apprehension cascading over her limbs.
Westley nudged her behind him and leaned cautiously over the side of the attic opening. Unwilling to be coddled, Felicity dropped to her knees beside him to see for herself what had upset the dog. The hall was empty, but Dakota faced her father’s room, his tail erect, his ears back and teeth bared, guarding them from an unseen threat.
Westley grabbed Felicity’s elbow and tugged her behind him as he reached for the weapon holstered at his thigh. “Stay here.”
In a move that was both athletic and fluid, he dropped quickly through the attic opening, landing soundlessly beside Dakota. Frustrated to be sidelined again, Felicity watched the pair advance down the hall, two warriors on the hunt. Dakota’s growls and barks bounced off the walls.
Felicity’s fingers curled into a fist. Adrenaline pumped through her veins. She needed a weapon.
She’d understood Lieutenant General Hall’s refusal to let her carry. It would draw attention to her and make Boyd less likely to attack. Not that Westley and Dakota weren’t enough of a deterrent. At the moment, she could only pray for Westley’s safety.
Dakota erupted in a barrage of vicious barking.
“Halt!” Westley’s shout came from her father’s bedroom.
The sound of several gunshots rang out. A canine yelp punctuated the air.
Felicity’s heart jackknifed. “Westley!”
Fearing the worst, she scrambled out of the attic, landing ungracefully with a jarring thud on the carpeted hall floor. As she regained her balance, she sent up a prayer, asking God for Westley and Dakota to be all right.
Cautiously, she made her way to the entrance of her father’s bedroom, pressing her back against the wall. Anxiety clogged her throat, her mind already preparing her for devastation. She flashed back to the day she found her father’s motionless body, and a shudder of dread worked over her flesh. With air trapped in her lungs, she peered around the doorjamb.
Inside the room, she found Westley holding Dakota, praising him with soothing words and a gentle tone. The dog panted at a fast clip. She hurried to their side. “What happened?”
“The intruder got away,” he said. “I nicked him in the arm. But Dakota’s been hit.” His voice shook with emotion. “There’s so much blood I can’t tell how bad it is.”
Her gaze lurched to where Westley’s hand gripped Dakota’s hind end. Crimson blood seeped through his fingers. She grabbed a pillow from the bed and stripped off the case. “Here.” She shoved the wadded-up material at him. “Use this and apply pressure. We have to get him to the vet clinic.”
He took the pillowcase and pressed it against Dakota’s wound. “Dakota managed to get a piece of the intruder’s pant leg.”
She followed his gaze to a ragged-edged piece of dark cotton material lying on the carpet.
“Now we at least have his scent as well as his DNA.” He gestured to the windowsill, where a smear of blood marred the white molding. “We’ll call Security Forces, but right now we have to get Dakota to the vet.” He rose, lifting the dog in his arms. “Call Dr. Roark and tell him we’re coming.”
Worry for Dakota churned in her gut as she made the call to the vet, who promised to be ready for them.
She prayed Dakota’s injury was only a flesh wound as she hurried ahead of Westley and opened the front door.
“You drive,” Westley said, heading to her car. “I’ll hold him.”
As soon as she got in the car she placed a call to Security Forces, and someone assured her they’d be at her house promptly to collect the evidence.
The short drive to the clinic seemed to take forever. When they arrived, the doors to the veterinarian hospital wing of the training center were open and Captain Kyle Roark, DVM and head of Canine Veterinary Services at CAFB, stepped out along with a female tech dressed in green scrubs.
“Follow me to exam room three,” Dr. Roark said briskly and led the way.
Inside the room, Westley placed Dakota on the metal exam table. The dog tried to stand. Felicity jumped to subdue him at the same time as Westley. Their hands tangled together as they maneuvered Dakota successfully to his uninjured side.
“Good job, you two,” Dr. Roark said. “You make a good team.”
Felicity’s cheeks heated. She met Westley’s gaze, noting the appreciation in his eyes.
“Let’s see what we have here,” the vet said. “You two keep him still while Airman Fielding and I tend to his wound.”
As the vet and the tech washed the wound, Felicity leaned in to Dakota’s ear. “You’re going to be okay.”
The dog turned his head and licked her face. A good sign, she hoped.
“Well, now,” the vet said. “Looks worse than it is.”
She was so thankful to hear those words, Felicity’s knees weakened. She could see the pronouncement had the same effect on Westley.
“The bullet grazed his upper thigh. He’ll need a couple of stitches but he’ll be right as the Texas rain within no time at all.”
“That’s good to hear, Doc.” Westley’s voice was filled with relief and gratitude. The lines of worry etched around his mouth eased.
“Airman Fielding will give you detailed instructions on how to care for the wound and a bottle of pain relievers,” Dr. Roark said when he was finished administering to the dog. He clapped Westley on the back. “You all should get some rest.”
“We will. Thanks.” Westley picked up Dakota, cradling him to his chest.
Felicity
