Page 8 of So Deadly
He looked at her with his big brown eyes, and some of her sadness melted away.That was a crappy mall anyway.She’d go shopping at Wegman’s for groceries, and if she needed something else, she’d just order it online.Wegman’s didn’t mind if she brought her dog inside, and the Amazon drivers didn’t care if Bruno barked at them as long as he was behind a door or a fence.
She smiled and almost meant it.“Come on.Let’s get you some dinner, and them Mommy will pour herself a glass of red wine and chase it down with some chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream.”
Bruno barked eagerly, and Margaret laughed and left the car.Bruno trotted up the steps, tail wagging, but when Margaret opened the door, he stiffened.Margaret frowned.“What is it?What’s wrong?”
A deep growl, almost a roar, escaped Bruno’s mouth.He shot forward, sprinting toward the back door.Margaret cried out, and when the back door slammed, she sighed and looked at the ceiling.“Jesus Christ, Bruno, it’s just a groundhog!”
Bruno kept barking, but instead of digging up dirt in the yard like he usually did, his paws scrabbled on the back door.His barks had taken on an alarmed note, and Margaret frowned again.Was it a rattlesnake?Bruno was terrified of snakes, which was probably a good thing.
“Hold on,” she said, shutting and locking the front door behind her.“Holdon, Bruno.I’m coming.”Under her breath, she muttered, “dumb dog” with a generous note of affection.
She was halfway to the back door when she saw a shadow spilling across the entry from her living room to her kitchen.She stopped and stared at the elongated human figure splashed across the rhomboid of light streaming in from the window.
Her throat constricted.That’s why Bruno was barking.That’s why he’d freaked out.He wasn’t after a groundhog or a rattlesnake.He’d seen an intruder.
And it hadn’t been his back paws or tail slamming the back door shut.
Margaret stiffened and started to tremble.Her throat went dry, and her knees knocked.Oh God, please no, please no, please no.
She lifted her eyes and saw the intruder.For a brief moment, her relief at seeing a woman’s figure and not a man’s overwhelmed her terror.
Then her mind registered the mask.A Rottweiler, just like the brute that the police officer at the mall had.Teeth bared in a snarl.Eyes bloodshot.Flecks of white paint meant to be foam or spittle sprinkles across the jaw.Flecks of something brownish red that didn’t look like paint on the muzzle.
And finally, her mind registered the claws.Boxcutter blades embedded in thick rubber sheaths at all ten fingertips.More of the brownish-red not-paint.
A warm spot stained her crotch as her bladder let go.She tried to open her mouth to scream and found her fear was too great.
Then the figure rushed toward her, and it was too late to scream.
CHAPTER FOUR
“David!”Faith cried.“No!”
David fought bravely, gritting his teeth and swinging at the agents surrounding him.His eyes reflected his fear but also his courage, even as his far better-trained opponents easily evaded his strikes.
Faith fought to escape her own opponents, but each time she felled one, another appeared in front of her, slashing with blades, swinging with fists, shooting with guns, forcing her to focus entirely on defending herself rather than coming to the aid of her beleaguered husband.
“Turk!”she cried.“Go get him!”
Turk shot off like a rocket, teeth bared, powerful legs pumping as he came to his papa’s rescue.
He nearly made it.He was only twenty feet from the struggle when a half dozen dogs barreled into him.Their jaws snapped, and when Turk leaped out of the way, they pursued, forming a half-circle around him and pushing him farther and farther away from David.Their eyes were flat, glazed, dead.In the distance, Faith could see the silhouettes of their handlers, safely behind bulletproof glass, their own eyes gleaming as they projected their will onto their dogs.
Turk yelped, not in pain but in fear and frustration.Even at eleven years old, he was more than a match for any of these dogs one-on-one, but with six of them boxing him in, there was no way he could get to David.
Faith shouted and fought harder, her own fists flying, flame blossoming from the barrel of her service weapon as she dropped her attackers.She was killing American service members, but it was either them or her husband.“David!David!”
David cried out, and Faith looked up to see him clutching his side.A CIA agent in the uniform of a Marine NCO grinned at him, eyes alive with joy at the kill, Ka-Bar knife plunged deep into David’s liver.
“No!”Faith cried.“No, please!Don’t hurt him!”
But it was too late.The agent pulled away and withdrew the knife.Blood spurted from the wound, and David stumbled forward, a sick expression on his face as he clutched his hands uselessly to the fatal blow.
“No!”Faith shouted.“David, please!”
David looked at her.He opened his mouth, but blood poured out before he could say anything.He sank to his knees.
“David!”Faith shouted.“David, stay with me!”
