was dedicated to her career and the dogs entrusted to her. And though he hated to dwell on it, by pairing him with Stumps she’d breathed new hope into his life when he’d been on the verge of giving up.
He glanced at Stumps. “Good boy.” Gage or not, they couldn’t just call this in and walk away. In a perfect world, he’d give his dog a treat and let the police take over. This scene had too many unknowns to wait.
“Danica?” he tried again. The lack of any sounds other than the dogs made him nervous. If her attacker was still lurking around he—or she—was being damn quiet about it.
He thought she was breathing, but it was hard to tell in the lousy light, with the puppies crying and climbing all over her, leads trailing in their wake. They were stepping on her hair and hands, tripping over her legs, and she gave no visible reaction. “Please don’t be dead,” he muttered as he pulled out his phone and dialed the police station for backup.
With the promise of assistance on the way, Shane pocketed his phone again and let Stumps know they were back in working mode as they moved toward the back gate. He was pleased the gate was closed, but it was unlocked. Shane had spent enough time at the training center to know the policy was to keep the gate locked for the protection of the dogs, the staff and the community.
Drawing his gun, he flicked off the safety and let Stumps take the lead as they walked into the yard. One of the hinges squeaked as he closed the gate behind them for the safety of the puppies that were loose. He knew he was potentially contaminating the scene, but he wasn’t about to leave her there until it could be cleared.
Stumps didn’t alert Shane to any further trouble as they crossed the yard and approached Danica’s unmoving form. The worried puppies cranked it up another octave, bracing at the sight of Stumps, while staying close to her.
Shane hoped their behavior meant she was alive, but he didn’t lower his guard. “Stay,” he said to Stumps, before he released the lead. His dog sat, ears perked, eyes on Shane.
Curious, the puppies lurched forward and then tumbled back to Danica, over and over. “Easy now,” Shane crooned to the puppies as he knelt down. Malinois, he saw now, recognizing the distinct black faces, fawn coats, huge ears and long tails. “Have you been keeping an eye on her?” They were so obviously untrained that he didn’t think the puppies posed any threat, but he wasn’t in the mood to wrestle or deal with needle-sharp puppy teeth.
“All right, you two. Move over and let me have a look.”
Shane pressed his fingers to the pale skin of her throat, relieved to find a pulse. Slow and steady, it seemed much stronger than her shallow breathing. Fortunately, an ambulance would be here soon. “Danica?” He smoothed her red-gold hair back from her face, trying to ignore the silky texture against his fingertips. “Can you hear me?”
One of the puppies whined, his tail sweeping across Danica’s face as he strived for Shane’s attention, and the other shoved his head under Shane’s elbow, seeking comfort. “She’ll be fine.” He wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince the puppies or himself.
Glancing back, he saw Stumps watching as if such raucous displays were beneath him. When his corgi was working, that was true enough, yet Shane made sure he got plenty of time each day just to be a dog and give his innate silliness an outlet.
Drawing the puppies aside, he continued to look Danica over. She was slightly built, but her confidence in the training classes gave her such a big presence he always forgot that she was short. Lying at such an awkward angle, her hair tangled, she looked almost breakable. His temper flared at the idea of anyone assaulting her.
There was no sign of blood and he struggled against the urge to straighten out that bent leg. He wouldn’t risk moving her, in case there were injuries from the fall that he couldn’t see. Nearby, a siren wailed and flashing lights darted into the night sky. The police department was nearby but an ambulance dispatched from the hospital on the other side of town might take a bit longer.
“She’ll be fine,” he said again, gathering the leads on the puppies. He should take them back into a kennel, yet he didn’t want to leave her out here alone.
Needing a distraction, Shane picked up the puppies. “Stumps, come.” The corgi hustled into action, stopping at Shane’s foot. “Seek.”
He didn’t have any better direction to give the dog. If there was something that didn’t belong in the area, Stumps would find it. The stocky legs carried him all around Danica, and he snuffled where the puppies had rubbed against Shane’s running shoes and jeans.
As he systematically explored the rest of the yard, Shane soothed the puppies and tried to sort out what had happened that Danica landed just like this.
She moaned, her limbs shifting slowly as if she was moving through thick sand. The puppies squirmed in his arms, eager to reach her. Shane was surprised how much he shared the sentiment. He kept a firm hold on the puppies as her eyelids fluttered open. Eyes he knew to be the pale green of springtime stared up at the sky before darting about, finally landing on him.
“Relax, Danica,” he said. “You’re safe now.”
Danica knew that voice. Shane. Through the fog in her mind, she wondered why she wouldn’t be safe. This was Red Ridge. She’d always been safe here. She blinked, or tried to. Her eyelids were so heavy they just wanted to stay closed. Maybe she should give in. Sleep sounded like a good plan. Her arms and legs felt as if they were weighted or buried. As she rolled her head from side to side, her neck ached and the scent of grass tickled her nose. How had she wound up out here on the ground?
“What happened?” The words were hard to get past her parched lips. And why was he here?
“Stay still,” that deep voice rumbled, dark as the night sky overhead. “Help is almost here.”
“Help?” It didn’t sound like the worst idea to wait, but her pride was taking a beating as she lay here while he stood over her. She heard the yip of puppies and recalled the new Malinois. “Are you holding the new puppies?”
She would like a better look at the tough, inscrutable Shane holding a couple of energetic three-month-olds. Ignoring her aching muscles, she tried to make out his expression through the weak light and her blurry vision. She knew he lived nearby, but she was a Gage. It seemed more likely Shane would be here to gloat over a Gage in trouble than help her out of any crisis.
He didn’t like her or anyone in her family—with good reason.
Her gaze moved to the wriggling Malinois pups, one cradled on each of his forearms, his large hands supporting their chests. “Where is Stumps?” She tried to take a deep breath and sit up. Her body fought her on both actions.
“Stay put,” Shane said. “Stumps is working.”
This time when she looked up, she could see the hard line of his square jaw and the grim set of his lips. His blue eyes would be stern and cold. It was the expression she privately referred to as judge and jury. Since his return to Red Ridge several years ago, he seemed to look at the world through that singular mien. “Why are you here?” she asked. Of everyone in the RRPD, why did Shane have to be the first at her side? And who had called him in?
“I guess I’m
