Through the Fire
Rocky Mountain K9 Unit
by Katie Ruggle
He’s tall.
He’s dark.
He’s brutally handsome…
And he may be her only hope.
Kit Jernigan despairs of ever fitting in with her new tight-knit
K9 unit—they've been through too much to welcome a stranger. So when a killer
strikes, it’s a fight to convince her fellow officers to trust her long enough
to catch the woman she knows is responsible.
She can’t do it on her own. What she needs most is a partner:
local fire spotter Wesley March.
Wes knows in his heart that Kit is right, and he's willing to
leave his lonely tower to help her prove it. But the more time they spend
together, the hotter the fire smolders…and the more danger they're in. A member
of the K9 unit's inner circle is determined to have her revenge—no matter who
gets burned in the process.
This time, it's personal.
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Wes
couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t uncommon for him to have insomnia, but it usually
happened when he was working on a project or was trying to sort out an
especially tricky problem. This time, it felt different. Excitement was running
through him, making him feel like he’d downed a half-dozen espressos in the
fifteen minutes before he’d gone to bed.
He couldn’t blame caffeine for his
sleepless state, though. No, it was all the fault of a beautiful woman who’d
almost gotten shot by Rufus. The memory made him frown, hating the idea that
she’d been in danger. After seven years working in his tower and living
year-round in the small, adjacent cabin, Wes had earned the wary respect of his
neighbors. He wouldn’t call them friends, but he’d be able to knock on their
doors without getting his head shot off.
Probably.
Giving up on attempting sleep, Wes
climbed out of bed and tossed his winter coat over his drawstring pants and
T-shirt. Stuffing his feet into his boots, he clumped outside. He glanced at
his watch. It was close to four, but the world was as dark as if it were the
middle of the night. The stars were bright, though, giving the snow an eerie,
blue-white glow. One of his favorite things about his home was how quiet it
was, especially at night in the winter. In the small city where he’d grown up,
there’d always been noise, sounds overlapping other sounds until it was
impossible for him to concentrate on anything. Here, it was just the slight
thud and brush of his boots connecting with the snowy ground, then the quiet
beep and click of the tower door unlocking and opening.
Once upstairs, there were more
distractions—the crackling of the fire in the woodstove and the whir and beep
of various electronics he’d hooked to the motion sensor—but everything was
familiar and expected. Usually, the sameness of his tower was comforting, but
tonight he was restless. He’d gotten a taste of the heady excitement he’d felt
in Kit’s company, and he wanted more. For the first time, the tower felt empty.
“Radio on,” he commanded, needing to
hear human voices other than his own. After he heard the beep indicating that
the digital radio had powered up, there was still silence, and he almost
laughed. Why had he thought anyone would be communicating at this hour? It was
tiny Monroe after all. “Radio scan.” Although he still didn’t have high hopes
of hearing any communications, even with all the channels open, that at least
increased the odds. Walking over to the bank of windows, Wes peered into the
darkness, not seeing anything except his reflection.
“Dispatch, Unit 2242. I’m about to make a
traffic stop on the 200 block of Main Street. Plates when you’re ready.”
The voice belonged to one of Wes’s more
sane neighbors, Otto Gunnersen. The cop and his new wife, Sarah, lived a few
miles away.
“2242, go ahead.” The
dispatcher sounded sleepy. As Otto rattled off the license plate number, Wes
wondered if Otto’s transmission had woken her up.
It wasn’t long before the dispatcher
spoke again, sounding wide awake this time. “That plate comes back to a blue
Honda Accord, registered to a William Kyle Yarden. He has a warrant.”
“Copy.” Otto didn’t
sound fazed by the information, which wasn’t surprising. Although Wes didn’t
know Otto well, he got the impression that it took a lot to rattle the big cop.
“2268.” Wes’s stomach
jumped with excitement when he recognized Kit’s voice. “Need some help, Otto?”
“I’ve got this, thanks,”
Otto answered. “Bill never gives us any trouble.”
“Copy. Let me know if you can
use a hand. I’m just around the corner, so I could be there in five minutes.”
Kit sounded a little disappointed, and Wes wondered if she was having just as
much trouble sleeping as he was. He liked that idea. It made the early-morning
hours seem less lonely when he knew that she was awake as well.
On impulse, he switched the radio to a
seldom-used channel and picked up the wireless mic. “3537 to 2268 on eighteen.”
There was a pause long enough to make
Wes wonder if she was scanning channel eighteen or if his attempt to reach out
had been lost to empty air. “2268 to 3537. Wes, is that you?”
He smiled. “Yes, it’s me.”
“What are you doing up so late?”
she asked. Her voice was warm, and it made his blood feel carbonated again, all
those fizzy bubbles swirling through him. He couldn’t stay still, so he paced
over to the windows, peering through the glass even though he knew he couldn’t
see her house without the binoculars.
“I couldn’t sleep. How about you? Are
you working nights now?” He hoped not. There would be fewer chances to see her
if their sleep schedules were reversed.
“Nope to both. Can’t sleep, but
I’m not on nights. Too bad. At least then I’d be paid for staying up.”
He moved from Window 1 to Window 12 and
then back again, needing to move so his brain didn’t freeze with the pressure
of talking to Kit. “Why can’t you sleep?”
Although he’d only met her a few times,
the sound she made was already familiar, and he could picture her doing a half
shrug as she made it. “I’m not sure. New place or too much excitement
yesterday or something. Who knows. My brain does what it does, giving no
explanations.”
“Yes.” Her words resonated inside him.
“Mine, too. Our brains match in that way.”
“Please.” Amusement
filled her voice, and it made his throat tighten with anxiety at the thought of
her laughing at him. “As if my brain could even hope to match yours.
I’ve seen your tower. You’re a stinking genius.”
The words ran through his mind a few
times before he was reassured that she was complimenting him, and he ducked his
chin, his face heating from pleasure and relief. As he lifted his head, his
reflection in the window caught his attention, and he was glad Kit couldn’t see
his flushed cheeks. Realizing that his pause had probably stretched too long,
he scrambled to come up with an answer. “You’re just as smart. I think your
brain could hold its own.”
“Now I’m picturing our brains
battling it out.” Her words were filled with laughter, and he was
pleased that he was actually managing to banter with her.
At least, he was pretty sure that they
were bantering. He made a mental note to call his sister, Leila, later and ask.
“Are they using swords or light
sabers?”
“Neither. They’re bouncing off
each other like lumpy, armless sumo wrestlers.”
His own
laughter took him by surprise, and he felt a rush of affection for Kit. It had
been a long time since he’d been able to talk to anyone so easily. “Of course.
That’s the only battle that makes sense.”
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A fan of
the old adage “write what you know”, Katie Ruggle lived in an off-grid, solar-
and wind-powered house in the Rocky Mountains until her family lured her back
to Minnesota. When she’s not writing, Katie rides horses, trains her three
dogs, cross-country skis (badly) and travels to warm places where she can scuba
dive. A graduate of the Police Academy, Katie received her ice-rescue
certification and can attest that the reservoirs in the Colorado mountains
really are that cold. A fan of anything that makes her feel like a bad-ass, she
has trained in Krav Maga, boxing and gymnastics.
