The next few days were a mix of wonderful and terrible. Wonderful because Harrison was right there, telling her he loved her, watching over her. Terrible because her ordeal seemed to have left its mark on her.
He took care of the dogs, kept a warm fire going, made meals, answered the door, took calls, brought her water and pain pills, did the grocery shopping and all the household chores. He also found creative ways the two of them could have sex without hurting her injured leg.
“You’re spoiling me.” She snuggled against his bare chest.
He stroked her hair. “Damn straight, I am.”
But, although it was good to be home, she couldn’t lose the feeling that something terrible was going to happen at any minute. Her second night home, she started having nightmares about Don shooting Gizmo and leaving him to die in the snow. It had seemed so real, and she’d woken up sobbing.
Conrad had held her, stroked her hair. “It’s over. Gizmo is fine. Because of you, he’s okay. Do you want to see him?”
She sniffed, nodded. “But it’s against the rules to let him sleep in the bed.”
“Screw the rules.” Harrison got up, walked downstairs, and returned with Gizmo and Gabby, both of whom gleefully jumped onto the bed, tails wagging.
“Hey, you two, leave room for me.” Harrison nudged Gizmo over. “Come on, buddy. That’s my spot. She’s my woman.”
That made Kenzie laugh.
It might have been silly, but it made a real difference to be able to reach out in the middle of the night and feel Gizmo safe and alive nearby.
Conrad had his troubles to face, too. He’d begun having sessions with Esri once a week. She had diagnosed him with post-traumatic stress, which was hard for him to accept, not because he didn’t see himself as human, but because he had always associated PTSD with those who’d served in the military—true heroes, he called them. Though he often came home from his sessions drained, his nightmares had stopped.
He seemed to find some peace, too, in donating all the money from the two interviews he’d done to the fund that the climbing community had set up for Bruce’s widow and children.
“Bruce would have liked that,” Kenzie told him.
“Bruce would think I was nuts.” Harrison laughed, then took on an Aussie accent. “You’re crackers, mate, completely mental.”
Halloween came and went, but Kenzie felt strangely detached from it all—the fall fun, the change of seasons. She got her stitches out, and she was able to ditch the crutches, though walking was still painful.
That following Monday, she felt strong enough to go back to work. Though she knew Don was dead—the Team had been toned out the afternoon after her surgery to retrieve his body—she felt ill at ease at the kennel. It was her property, her business, a place she had always felt safe. Now, her sense of safety was shattered.
Worse than that, Don the Dickhead’s partner still hadn’t been found. Harrison and Hawke believed he was dead up there somewhere and would melt out in the spring, but no one knew for certain.
“I can’t shake the feeling that he’s going to come after Gizmo and me,” she told Harrison over dinner one night. “Because of us, he lost the money he stole.”
Harrison reached across the table, took her hand. “I’ve been talking with Herrera. We’re going to install some security upgrades at the kennel.”
“I can’t afford that right now.” She had lots of holiday reservations on the books, but she needed that money to ease the cash-flow crunch of slower months.
“Who said anything about you paying for it? You don’t have to worry about money now.”
“But you can’t—”
He pressed his fingers to her lips, stilling her. “It’s my money. I risked my neck to earn it. If I want to spend it on you, let me.”
The weekend following Halloween, Harrison and Creed put in bullet-resistant glass doors and windows and a new lock system that required a key card to enter the kennel. They also installed a security door between the store and the kennel that also required a key card. The store was still open to the public, but the rest of the facility, including the classroom, was effectively on lockdown.
They also made some improvements to her house, installing deadbolts and a new security system.
“Thanks, guys. I feel safer.”
But when the nightmares and anxiety didn’t abate, Kenzie knew there was only one thing she could do. Call Esri and ask for help.
* * *
Conrad stoodon the summit of Eagle Ridge looking down at the resort’s double-black runs and glades, ready for his ski test. It was his fifth day of training. So far this day was much better than the others, which had been spent indoors in meetings.
