Ethan (The K9 Files Book 1)

Cinn got up and dressed. She had just gotten into bed and was relaxing when Ethan called, but sleep was the last thing on her mind now. Downstairs she went to the first aid cabinet. She kept a fairly extensive one because of the animals. Taking out her field kit to the kitchen table, where the light was the brightest, she located tweezers, antiseptic and sterile gauze. She didn’t know how far away he was; she should have asked him. But, if she called him now, he’d be driving. She didn’t want him to talk and drive, particularly not if he was already injured.

She put on coffee, sat at the table and waited. She had one cup half gone when she saw the lights coming up her driveway. She poured him a cup and brought out a bottle of whiskey she kept in the back of the pantry. She opened the door, relieved to see him walking mostly normally. As he approached, she could see the pain on his face.

She ushered him in, closed the door behind him, turned and cried out at the blood on his back.

“How bad is it?” he asked.

“I won’t know until I get that shirt off you. That’s a lot of blood though.”

“Damn. I was trying to avoid leaving a blood trail.”

“How did you even drive like that?” she asked, walking around him.

He spotted the whiskey, and his face lit up. Then he looked at the coffee.

As his gaze bounced between the two liquids, she shrugged. “If you drink some of the coffee, you can always top it up with whiskey.”

He grabbed the chair, flipped it around and sat backward, undoing his shirt buttons as soon as he was seated. Ever-so-gently he extricated his arms from the sleeves. Some of the blood had dried, making his shirt stick to his back.

“Before you pull that off, let me soak it. We don’t need any more damage done.”

She walked to the bathroom, grabbed several washcloths, soaked them under the faucet, then returned to the kitchen back and laid them across his shirt, soaking the dried blood, so it would release the shirt. It took several attempts; finally the wet shirt pulled away. She placed it in the sink and ran cold water on it, went back to the kitchen table and gently cleaned his back with a wet sponge.

Finally she saw the splinters of wood in his back. “What did you do? How did you manage to get these splinters?”

“I got locked into a building,” he explained drily. “At the back wall were a couple busted boards, so, rather than making a big exit—telling them I had been there—I tried to sneak out and got caught on some of the jagged edges.”

“I’ll say. You’ll need some of that whiskey,” she warned.

Obediently he took a big slug of his coffee, reached for the bottle of whiskey and filled his cup. She grabbed the tweezers and went to work.

“I’ll start with the little ones. I’m placing the slivers on a paper towel.”

She set the paper towel on the table beside him. Carefully she pulled at the wood splinters until she had the easier ones out. But two were big ones, one of which was jagged. Using the tweezers, she gently got the smaller of the two out, feeling his back muscles stiffen.

“I’ve got the easiest ones out,” she said gently.

She grabbed the gauze, put some antiseptic on it and cleansed all the areas she had cleared of splinters. His back muscles tensed at the pain, but he never said a word.

She sat on a chair next to him. “You’ve got a bigger one, but it’s jagged. I’ll have to cut the skin to get it out.”

“Then you have to cut the skin,” he said, his tone neutral. He discussed this like it was nothing unusual.

She sighed. She walked over to a kitchen drawer, grabbed one of her sharp paring knives, poured some antiseptic on it and came back to him again. She studied the splinter for a long moment, seeing where it was hooked in and wouldn’t pull out. She sliced the skin from that hook forward. His muscles bunched underneath her hands, but he never said a word.

Amazed, she murmured, “Always got to be the strong guy, don’t you?”

“I am what I am,” he said quietly.

She nodded to herself, then realized he couldn’t see that. “You are indeed.”

She reached for the tweezers and grabbed hold of the splinter embedded in his skin. She pulled it out, all three inches of the jagged wood, and laid it on the paper towel in front of him.

He took a look and then nodded. “No wonder that hurt.”

She cleaned his wounds once more, then studied the rest of his back. “Just abrasions from here on, I think.” She took a long moment to clean the area thoroughly, then, grabbing the antiseptic ointment, she carefully covered the area. “That’s a pretty big area to cover with gauze.”

He shook his head. “I’ll be fine.”

“You won’t be fine if it continues to bleed,” she warned.

He frowned when she held up a large sheet of gauze.

“I suggest for the night we at least cover this. I can tape it down, and then you won’t get any more blood on whatever clothing or bed you’re sleeping in.”

He nodded.

“And then tomorrow morning,” she said, “you can come back, and I’ll change it.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

“While you were out there playing cops and robbers, did you find anything?”

He grabbed his phone, flicked through it and held up a photo for her to see.

She peered over his shoulder and gasped. “Is that a drug lab?”

He explained what he’d seen, about the women, and when he went into the building itself.

“That was dangerous,” she scolded. “Cops are around for that reason, you know?”

He chuckled. “The work I used to do was way the hell more dangerous than this,” he assured her.

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” she snapped.

She sprayed his scrapes with an antibiotic spray, for extra prevention, then placed the gauze on top and taped down the corners. She’d have to tape the edges too. Otherwise, every time he turned while he slept, it would tug and pull.

As soon as she was done, she said, “That’ll hold for the night.” She motioned at the photos. “What will you do about it?”

“I’ve already contacted Gunner,” he said. “He’s contacted the police. I believe they’re pulling something together now.”

She sat down hard in the chair across from him. “Oh, thank God.”

He looked up at her in surprise.

“I was afraid you’d go in after them yourself.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled up with laughter. “If I wasn’t alone, I might,” he admitted. “But I don’t know how many men are out there. I heard at least four.”

“And all armed?”

“All armed and dangerous, and two, possibly more, highly trained dogs.”

“Shepherds?”

He nodded. “But these were in better shape.”

She looked at him for a long moment. “Do you think she was fired from her job?”

He shrugged. “If she was fired, it was a long time ago because she’s pretty skinny.”

“Or she could have been sick. No way to know.”

“Not yet,” he said. “We should get to the bottom of it soon enough.”

She nodded. “Do you want to stay here for the night?”

His face showed his surprise.

It mirrored the surprise in her heart. She shrugged. “I meant on the couch,” she said drily.

He shook his head. “Thanks, but no thanks. I have a bed for the night.” He stood. In a smooth move, he straightened as if it was no big deal.

She groaned as she watched him. “You don’t always have to be a big tough guy, you know?”

He smiled and repeated, “I am what I am.”

“We are all what we are. But we can change.”

He leaned down, and, in a surprise move, kissed her gently on the forehead. “Thanks for the first aid, Doc.” And he walked back out into the night.

She looked around her kitchen. The bloody shirt was still in the sink. She wished she’d had some painkillers for him, but, by the time she thought of it, he was already in the truck and backing out. She swore softly and cleaned up. She’d been wishing for something exciting to happen, but she hadn’t really expected anything like this.

“Just goes to show you that you should watch what you wish for.”

The next morning when he woke up, it was hard to move. His back was stiff and sore. He half stumbled, half hopped toward the shower and let the hot water run down his back. Only belatedly did he remember a bandage was all across his back. He reached around and tugged at the corners. The water had loosened the tape, and the gauze was, of course, soaked to his skin, but it had, in effect, loosened from the scabbing on his back. With one corner free, he loosened the other, and then it dropped down, the water hitting his sore flesh.

He stood like that for a long moment, rotating his shoulders and neck, easing the pain. He checked the time as soon as he got out. It was almost 8:00 a.m. Normally he didn’t sleep that long. But he’d taken painkillers before bed, and that seemed to have knocked him out.

As he walked to the bed, a towel wrapped around his waist, his phone rang. “Gunner, what’s up?”

“They’ll go in today,” Gunner answered.

“I want to be with them,” Ethan said.

“No. You can’t. They were very specific about that. But I did try.”

He swore softly. “I don’t want them shooting those dogs,” he said.

“I know you’re trying to save every animal on the planet, but those are trained attack dogs.”

“We don’t know that,” Ethan said with irritation. “They’re trained, yes, but that doesn’t mean they will attack. They aren’t responsible for their training. I’m pretty sure I could get them to follow my commands. I’m after one in particular. You know that, but I’d save them all if I could.”

Gunner hesitated.

“Call whoever back and tell him that I can pull the dogs off of his men. No need to kill those animals. I’m all for him taking out the bad guys, but let’s not hurt any more animals.”

“I know K9s have been your life,” Gunner said, “but I’m not sure we can do anything to help these.”

“If the police are going in without somebody to work with the dogs, the dogs will attack because they won’t have any choice,” Ethan said forcefully. “They’ll be ordered to attack. Somebody has to be there to counter those orders.”

“But those dogs don’t know you,” Gunner said. “Why would they listen to you?”

Ethan shrugged, then winced at the movement in his back. “I can only tell you that they will.”

“I doubt the police will listen to that. They’re probably more than happy to shoot the dogs.”

“Sure, but the dogs have been well trained. Most likely we can use them. I don’t know what their skills will be, and it’ll take some time to sort it out, but you and I both know how valuable well-trained dogs are. You’re looking for a couple yourself.”

He could almost see Gunner nodding and thinking about it.

“At least call them,” Ethan said. “It’s what I do. You know that.” At least it was what he did—before his accident set his life on a difference course.

“I’ll call you back.” Gunner hung up.

Taking the opportunity, Ethan called Louise at the clinic. “How is she?”

“Doing remarkably well,” Louise said cheerfully. “It’s amazing what food and water and some medical care can do for an animal. She’s bouncing back nicely.”

“When will she be ready to be picked up?”

“I’m not sure. I think you need to see her again and note her reaction to you, when she’s not so drugged.”

He thought about it and said, “Maybe this morning. I’m waiting on a phone call that could change my schedule.”

“Come when you can,” she said. “I’ve got to go. I’m heading into surgery.”

He heard the click in his ear that said she had ended the call.

He was getting dressed, when his phone rang again. He answered it, surprised to see Cinn on the caller ID.

“Do you need me to put a clean dressing on your back?” she asked without preamble.

He froze, reached around to his back to check, and his fingers came away wet with blood. “Yes.”

“Then I’ll see you here in twenty then.” She ended the call.

He frowned but appreciated her no-nonsense attitude. He dressed his bottom half and left off his shirt. He would need something to protect his truck seat and something to wear temporarily. He’d already left his bloody shirt with her at her place.

With a towel for the back of the seat, wearing a disposable white T-shirt and bringing another to don afterward, he packed a bag for the day, including water and some granola bars, and walked out to his truck.

His house was about fifteen minutes away from Cinn’s house, and he’d just pulled into her driveway when Gunner called him back.

“They could be leaving in a couple hours,” he said cautiously. “No guarantees, but, if you’re on the spot, and if you follow orders, they might let you get to the dogs first.”

“Where do I meet them?”

Gunner gave him the GPS location where the meeting was taking place and a time frame.

Ethan checked his watch. “I’ll be there.” Disconnecting from Gunner’s call, he hopped out of the truck and walked in to find Cinn taking several pancakes off the griddle, placing them on two plates.

She set them on the table, next to butter and maple syrup, and said, “You might as well eat while you’re here.”

He frowned at her.

She frowned right back. “Sit down.”

He sat, pulling off his bloodied T-shirt. He sniffed appreciatively. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, and that was the end of their conversation. She quickly dropped his T-shirt in the sink and ran cold water on it, then redressed his back.

He grinned.

She looked at him suspiciously, as she sat down to eat. “What are you smiling about?”

“You,” he said. “Who’d have thought anybody out there was as short on talking as I am.”

She shrugged. “There’s a time for talking, and there’s a time for eating.” She motioned with her fork at the stack of pancakes in front of him. “Eat.”

He dug in and moaned in delight. “These are wonderful,” he said enthusiastically and polished off the stack. When it was all gone, she got up, reached into the oven and pulled out a plate with more, then put it down in front of him. When he looked at her empty plate, she shook her head.

“I’m full.”

He didn’t need a second urging. He moved the stack onto his plate, mopping up the spare syrup, and, at a much slower pace, ate the second stack. When he was done, he pushed both plates away and said, “That was excellent. Thank you.”

She carried the dishes to the sink, where she put them in hot soapy water, then poured two cups of coffee.

He was stunned to think she had gone to that much effort for him. As much as he had loved the pancakes, the fresh coffee was just as nice. He looked at his cell phone and said, “I’m heading to the clinic to see the shepherd.”

She sat across from him and smiled. “Say hi to her for me.”

He nodded.

“Have you got a name yet?”

He shook his head. “Hard to come up with a name. I don’t really know who she is yet.” He could see the understanding in her gaze; at the same time he knew just what a strange thing it was he’d just said. Most people picked a name because they liked the name. They didn’t match it to the animal. He motioned at her medical supplies and asked, “Can I replace what you’ve used?”

“I’m not worried about it,” she answered. “But, if you’ll be hanging around, and you’ll be doing this a lot, you might want to pick up some more bandages and gauze,” she said, tapping a box of Band-Aids. “Those too.”

He nodded. “Next time I’ll hit a drugstore.” He finished his coffee, stood, walked to the sink and, before she could stop him, he washed the dishes. He stacked them on the rack, grabbed his cell phone and keys, and said, “Thank you.” And he left.

He stood out on the veranda on the top step, knowing he should say something else but not sure what. He heard footsteps across the floor, and she came to stand in the doorway behind him.

“Will I see you again?” she asked.

He turned to look at her. “Do you want to?”

Her lips quirked. “Yes.”

He could feel that sense of satisfaction roiling through his stomach. “Then, yes.” He smiled and walked over to his truck. She was still watching him as he turned onto the highway. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but it was nice to find somebody who didn’t ask too many questions.

He’d been a loner for a long time, and it felt right. But he’d known he needed to get back to civilization, around people. His social skills were still rusty, his sense of humor still off. Interaction with anyone other than at work didn’t come easy anymore. That was why he always related better to the animals. He preferred them over people any day.

When he drove into the vet clinic parking lot, a couple vehicles were here already, but it wasn’t too busy yet. He imagined Louise ran a pretty decent business, considering the scope of the ranching and farming in the area. He didn’t know if she did large animals as well, but she probably wouldn’t have a lack of business in that corner either.

As he walked into the clinic, Megan smiled. “She’s really doing much better.”

“Is she walking?”

Megan nodded. “With help.”

He frowned at that.

She let him into the back, where the shepherd was still in the cage. “If you wait here,” she said, “it’s time for us to take her out. You can come with us.”

The shepherd had yet to see him. He walked outside to the designated area and waited, loving the fresh air versus being inside the surgery area, with its chemical superclean smell.

When he turned around again, the door opened, and Megan and a vet assistant walked out with a band under the shepherd’s belly, supporting her.

He pointed at the shepherd, frowning. If she couldn’t walk on her own, he wasn’t sure he could take her with him today.

“She is walking. We’re keeping her from putting too much weight on that hip yet.”

He nodded with understanding.

The vet assistant stepped back, so Megan walked with the dog. The shepherd took several hesitant steps, then a few more. She still hadn’t seen Ethan. Megan walked her to the grass, where she very carefully managed to pee.

He smiled. “She’s doing so much better.”

The dog, hearing his voice, turned to look at him. Something in her gaze he didn’t quite understand. But she was still weak. Her tail wagged, and her ears went down, not in an offensive manner but in compliance. He crouched in front of her, giving her a chance to get used to him. She moved closer, one step at a time. When she reached him, she gave him the gentlest of licks on his cheeks. He could feel his heart melting.

He scratched her under the chin. “You’ll be fine now, little one. I don’t know who did this to you, but you’ll be much better off now.”

She nudged his hand when he stopped scratching. He chuckled and, with both hands, gave her a good head scratch. When he looked up, he saw Megan beaming, the vet assistant standing off to the side and watching the interaction.

“How has she been with everybody in the clinic?” he asked. He was pretty sure he knew the answer. The shepherd was just too damn grateful for having been taken away from that horrible life and all the pain she’d been in.

The assistant walked closer, exclaiming, “She’s a sweetheart. She’s never barked or snarled at any of us, even when we were hurting her, which we had to do to change her needles and her dressings,” she admitted. “But she’s been incredibly patient with us.”

Ethan nodded. “What will we call you, girl?”

“We’ve all been searching for names too,” Megan said. “But we haven’t found anything that’s perfect. If you’re taking her with you, then you get to name her anyway.”

“Sally,” he said suddenly. “Her name is Sally.”

At the name, Sally’s ears perked up. She reached up and nudged his chin with her nose. He chuckled. “Sally it is then.”

“It’s not a very heroic name,” Louise said from behind him.

He turned to look at her. “Actually, it is.”

Megan handed over the leash attached to the belt around Sally’s underbelly, showing Ethan how to walk her with gentle support.

He took her around, so he could get used to helping her. When he came back to Louise, he said, “How much longer does she need assistance?”

“Animals heal incredibly quickly,” she said. “The issue will be that we don’t want her to overdo it. So maybe another day, two days maximum.”

He smiled. “I’d be happy to take her now, if I thought she would be okay without you.”

“Let’s give it another day,” she restated. “And how is the name Sally heroic?”

He watched Sally being led back into the interior of the clinic. At the doorway she turned and looked at him. “It’s all right, Sally. I’ll come back and get you tomorrow.”

She gave a bark and then went inside the clinic, as if fully understanding.

He turned to look at Louise. “It’s short for something.”

She raised an eyebrow but waited patiently.

He smiled. “It’s short for Salvation.”