Dove helped the second man, lifting him by the arm, talking low and calm like she'd done this a thousand times. Jack took the third.
Trent kept his gaze glued to Clarkson.
She'd stopped about six feet from the group, her head swinging back and forth, tail doing that slow, deliberate sweep that meant she was still determining something. Her nostrils flared. She could smell the strangers. The fear. Maybe even the blood from Dove's face.
None of that was good.
"Easy, girl." Trent kept his voice low and even. “No one wants to hurt you.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught movement. Slow at first, and then all of a sudden, Courtney broke off in a full run toward the SUVs, heels hitting the gravel.
Clarkson's head snapped toward the movement, and she opened her mouth, making a deep, guttural grunt.
“Stop running,” Trent said as calmly as he could. While he wanted these people in jail, he didn’t want them attacked by a gator.
Clarkson shot forward like something mechanical—low and fast, covering ground in that terrifying burst that people never believed until they saw it. Courtney screamed.
“Fuck,” Trent mumbled.
Karl lunged. He grabbed Clarkson's tail with both hands and spun hard, throwing his weight into it, but the gator shifted. She did, however, pause, turning her head. She repositioned herself, facing Karl, hissing through her open mouth.
"Don't. Move," Trent said.
“Wasn’t planning on it.” Karl held his hands up and stared Clarkson down like he’d done it a million times, which he had.
Dolly bellowed.
The sound rolled across the property like a wave, and every other gator in the moat joined in. Trent turned. Dolly had committed—all twelve feet of her driving toward Dutton, who'd backed himself against the second SUV with nowhere to go.
Shit. Trent hadn’t even seen Dutton move.
Cullen stepped between them, waving his arms wide. "Hey. Hey. Come on, big girl. Over here."
Dolly didn't care about Cullen.
Dove got in front of Dutton and spread her arms the way she'd seen Trent do it, planting her feet, making herself large. “Over here, sweetheart.” Her voice dropped to that low register. "Come on, Dolly. It's okay."
Dolly slowed. Her head swung toward Dove.
Dutton raised his weapon.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” Trent said.
The shot cracked across the property.
Dolly lurched. A sound came out of her that Trent had never heard before—not a bellow, not a hiss, it almost sounded like a gargled cry—and she spun sideways, tail whipping.
Trent raced in her direction.
"You shot my gator.” He got between Dutton and Dolly without thinking about it, without any plan except that Dutton was not firing again. "You shot her."
Dutton yanked open the driver’s side door. “It’s not a pet.”
Pop. Pop.
Dutten jumped. Courtney gasped. The SUV sank as the tires exploded. Trent glanced over his shoulder and saw Buddy wave from the observation deck. “Watch out. Dolly’s on the move, and Clarkson’s right behind her.
“I got Clarkson.” Cullen waved his hands and stomped his feet.
