When Love Matters Most

As Rick sped along I-5, he spoke to the detectives conducting the investigation so he could gather as much information about the incident as possible. From what he was told, Jeff had done everything right. They’d found the cube van parked at the side of the road, apparently abandoned. Jeff and Zeke had been doing the perimeter check for narcotics to establish probable cause to search the inside of the van. When they’d approached the back, the doors had swung open and the shooting started. One of the Narcotics cops had been at the side of the van, out of the line of fire. He’d taken down the shooter, but it had been too late for Jeff.

There’d been no drugs in the van. Just the shooter. It had to have been a setup, as Logan thought. Their unit had been making a huge dent in the activities of a number of the cartels. This must have been payback from one of them. The guilt burned through Rick and settled in his gut, a hard, uncompromising knot. It should’ve been him, if anyone. Not one of his men. Not a cop with a young family.

His assumption about his own absence was confirmed when he spoke to Logan. They’d decided not to call him for the reason he’d surmised. If he hadn’t helped that kid the night before, it would’ve been him at the back of that cube van when the scum with the rifle had taken his shot. If he’d been there instead, Jeff wouldn’t have taken the bullet and wouldn’t be in the hospital with critical injuries.

It was hard enough when one of their own got hit, but to make matters worse for Rick, the burden of guilt weighed heavily on him.

As for Jeff, they were hopeful he was going to make it through the operation. After that...the doctors couldn’t say. The guilt surged up again and Rick tasted bile in his throat.

Rick had to take comfort in the fact that Jeff was receiving the best possible care. Right now his concern was Zeke. He knew Zeke well. He’d helped train him when he’d come to the K-9 Unit from the Czech Republic as a cute, floppy-eared shepherd puppy. Rick wanted to stay positive, but if Zeke had gone off on his own, it wasn’t a good sign. Rick rubbed his eyes when the road blurred in front of him. He stopped by a cordoned-off area, a cube van at its center. Leaving the air-conditioning on in the back of his SUV for Sniff, he jumped out.

By the time he got to the crime scene, there were cops everywhere. He greeted the ones he knew and headed to where the detectives were gathered. It was obvious where Jeff had been shot from the pool of blood on the pavement, but Rick could see a second, smaller pool, too...and the trail of drops that led away from it.

He followed the trail at a fast jog to a residential yard, where it ended by a wooden step at the base of a deck.

Rick crouched down and peered into the dark, confined space. Relief flooded through him when he heard the panting. Even before he dropped to his belly and shone his light in, he started to murmur to Zeke in a calm, reassuring tone. He wanted to reduce the chances of the injured animal—out of pain or self-defense—lashing out at him.

He needn’t have worried. Large chocolate-brown eyes stared up at him and a warm, dry tongue brushed the back of his hand when he reached in. Zeke was lying on his left side. From what Rick could see, he must have taken a bullet on his right side. Judging by the dark crimson stain on the packed dirt, he’d lost a considerable amount of blood.

But Zeke was alive and conscious. Rick needed to get him to a vet. And fast.

Resting his flashlight on the grass, Rick elbowed into the tight space and maneuvered the big dog gently out from under the deck. He could tell from the whimpers that he was hurting Zeke, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. The dog remained stoic, seeming to trust him implicitly.

“I’ve got you, pal,” he murmured. “You’re going to be okay.”

Rick carried Zeke to his truck as fast as he dared. He didn’t want to jostle him too much, didn’t want to cause him more pain, or aggravate his injuries and blood loss. At his vehicle, he looked around quickly. Not wanting to set Zeke down only to have to lift him again, he needed help. He saw another cop from his division and called out, “Give me a hand, would you, Steve?”

The cop glanced at Zeke. His brows drew together and his mouth formed a hard, straight line. “It’s terrible what happened to Jeff. Is his dog going to be okay?”

“If I have anything to do with it, yeah. There’s a blanket on the floor just behind the passenger seat. Get it for me, and help me wrap it around Zeke. I want to stem the flow of blood, and keep him warm and still, if possible.”

“Sure.” The cop did as he was asked.

“Now recline that seat all the way.”

“Why don’t you put him in the back? Wouldn’t it be more comfortable for him?”

“My dog’s in there, and there isn’t room for both of them.” Almost as if on cue, a short bark and a whine came from the back compartment of the SUV. Sniff must have sensed Zeke’s presence and his distress.

“Besides, I want Zeke up front with me so I can keep an eye on him,” Rick added.

“All right,” Steve said, and complied with Rick’s directions.

They slid Zeke carefully onto the near-horizontal seat.

“Thanks, man. I owe you one,” Rick said, slapping the other cop on the back. Then he skirted his truck at a run.

He buckled himself in, put a reassuring hand briefly on Zeke’s head and turned on his lights. He needed to get Zeke to the Mission Bay Veterinary Clinic as swiftly and smoothly as possible. He called ahead to make sure they could see Zeke right away.

Despite the short interval, by the time Rick drove into the clinic’s parking lot, Zeke’s breathing had become shallow and labored. His eyes had drifted closed.

Rick carried the dog as fast as he could into the clinic.

“Oh, my gosh! What happened?” The receptionist—not Heather, the clinic’s regular one, but the college kid who filled in sometimes—sprang up from her desk and rushed around the counter.

“He’s been shot. As I told you on the phone, he needs attention right away.” Rick’s voice was hoarse with emotion. They couldn’t lose Zeke.

“Here! We’re ready for you.” She indicated an examination room and quickly opened the door for him. “You’re Sergeant Rick Vasquez, with the SDPD, correct?”

Rick laid Zeke down on the examination table. “Yeah. Good memory, but can you hurry, please? Zeke needs help urgently.”

“Okay, I’ll get Madison right now.”

Rick’s head whipped up. “What? Why not Jane? I need the best for Zeke.”

The girl took a stumbling step back. “I... I’m sorry, but Jane’s off this week.”

Rick fought to keep his temper in check, more for Zeke’s sake than the receptionist’s. He didn’t want the dog to be any more agitated than he already was. “What about Don, then?” He inquired about the other partner in the practice.

She shook her head. “He’s at a conference.”

“Fine,” Rick said tersely. “Get whoever you mentioned in here, then.” Recognizing the girl’s distress through his haze of anger and fear, he added in a more controlled voice, “As fast as possible, please.”

The girl nodded briskly and rushed out of the room.

Rick could see that Zeke’s condition had deteriorated considerably during transport. It made the wait seem interminable, although it couldn’t have been more than a couple of minutes before the door finally swung open again.

Seeing the vet enter, he felt a jolt. His immediate reaction was elemental and hormone-driven. The woman standing in the doorway was of average height, with impressive curves obvious even in the boxy white lab coat, and she had long, curly red hair. When she introduced herself as Madison Long, he heard Texas in her sultry voice. He was unaccustomed to his shock at the sight of an attractive woman. He ignored the feeling, astonished that he’d even noticed her appearance when all he cared about was Zeke and his survival.

She narrowed her eyes and he realized he must have been scowling. “Are you qualified to deal with trauma?” he blurted out, to reestablish focus on Zeke and his care. Stupid question, he chastised himself as soon as the words were out of his mouth, but there was no taking them back.

The V that had formed between her brows deepened. Her curt “Of course” sounded haughty, and made him angry for some reason...probably at himself, if he was honest. During the drive to the clinic, his feelings of guilt had extended from Jeff to Zeke, and that hadn’t helped his disposition. He was desperate for them both to pull through.

Then the veterinarian was all business. She asked him to explain what had happened and began her examination.

When she manipulated Zeke’s leg and the dog yelped, Rick’s angst spewed forth. “You’re hurting him,” he accused.

She looked aggravated. “I’m trying to diagnose him.”

“Well, can’t you give him an anesthetic or something to ease the pain?” He couldn’t stand to see the dog suffer. “You...”

The door opening interrupted Rick, and one of the techs rushed in.

Ignoring Rick, the veterinarian spoke to the tech. “Oh, good, Sean. Can you please hold Zeke still and try to keep him calm while I finish my examination?”

“Sure,” Sean replied, and moved into position beside the examination table.

When Zeke whimpered again, Rick threw his hands up. “You can’t let him suffer like this! Can’t you just...”