“It’s too late for that.”
Avery shifted so he faced me directly. “You’re not alone, Jacy. You don’t have to fight alone. You’ve got me.”
Smiling sadly, I caressed his bristled cheek. “I know. But if you’re protecting me, who’s protecting our Declan?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Avery
I worked from home the next day.
With Carter injured, his threats against Declan, his quest for revenge, I didn’t need a seer to tell me he’d return. How, when, and where were the only questions I couldn’t answer. Trying to tune out Declan ordering Pete and Wendy to not run off with his Lego building blocks, nor to swat the tower he’d built into a ragged pile, I sat in the armchair with my laptop.
Hardly able to focus on the stock market, I idly watched as Wendy once again pounced on the structure Declan created, sending Legos tumbling.
“Really?” Declan said in the tone of someone twenty years older. “You can’t find something else to do?”
I smothered my laughter. He sounded exactly like me when I scolded him.
Wendy laid in the midst of the blocks, her tail lashing, and smacked Declan’s hand when he reached for his Legos. Undeterred, Declan patiently rebuilt the foundation while Pete draped himself across his shoulders like a furry stole.
Jacy stood in the kitchen doorway, watching the reconstruction efforts. Max ambled past her to also gaze atWendy, who now rolled onto her back amidst the Legos, stifling Declan’s attempts to retrieve them. He sat back, his small hands on his hips, frowning ponderously.
“Don’t make me send you to your room,” he announced.
Max cocked his head to the side, his ears up and perked forward. He gazed intently at the front door.
My instincts drove me to my feet, tossing the laptop aside.
Carter’s boot kicked the door in, shattering the lock.
The gun in his hand barked, spraying my house with bullets.
Vaguely hearing Declan scream, I charged for Carter, my head down, intending to take him out with my hands on his throat. I caught his feral grin, his gun hand sweeping toward me, aiming the barrel at dead center.
My chest.
Max struck him first.
Carter yelled out as Max bit deep into his wrist, shaking his head, yanking, ripping tendons and shattering his bones. Yelling, Carter fought to free himself from Max’s fangs, his heavy weight, but that damn mutt merely held on, growling deep in his throat. I half-saw Carter’s free fist strike Max on his face and muzzle. Then I tackled him.
My body pushed Carter out the door and onto his back with me atop him. Max’s fangs ripped free of Carter’s wrist, but that didn’t deter my dog from lunging for Carter’s face. Max savaged his flesh, gouging deep bites into his flesh, blood gushing upward to splash my hands as I sought to strangle the life from the bastard.
Carter didn’t give up easily.
His healthy left fist slammed into my right ear.
The blinding pain shattered both my ability to see and to kill him. I rocked sideways, into Max, off balance. Carter wedged his knee between my legs and smashed it into my groin.
Holy hell.
The pain in my head was nothing to the white-hot agony in my nuts. Instantly, I became a writhing puddle of ooze, unable to think or fight. Carter kicked me off of him and staggered upright. Lifting my head a fraction, I saw him kick Max in the ribs and off the porch. Max yelped, hitting the grass awkwardly. But he was on his paws in a nanosecond.
Carter ran for his life.
Max, snarling as ferociously as any well-trained police dog, chased him. His teeth sank into Carter’s ass, his thighs, Max leaping upward to bite at Carter’s belly. As he had me, Carter kneed him aside and jumped into the opened silver Mercedes.
As Max sought to attack him, Carter slammed the door on his body. Max, yelping shrilly, backed from the car’s interior. He leaped again at the shut window, yet Carter had little trouble putting the Merc in gear and racing away, escaping down the street.
