intensely aware of Marc’s presence. Blue had been bathed and brushed yesterday, but he still smelled like a dog.
Marc, on the other hand, smelled like a man. A clean, warm-skinned man. The faint scent of Old Spice clung to him. Deodorant, she realized, suppressing the urge to bury her face in his armpit and inhale.
They drove around the inland hills of Oceanside, through the neighborhoods near the San Luis Rey River for the better part of an hour, during which they hardly spoke. Blue sniffed and hung his head out the window, but didn’t seem to sense anything.
“Does he know what we’re doing?”
“I doubt it,” she admitted.
“Can’t you read his mind?”
She didn’t turn to look at him, because he was too close for comfort. “No. I don’t read minds, I just sort of get flashes. Feelings. Images.”
“What’s the difference?”
She shrugged. “You were implying that I know what everyone around me is thinking every moment.”
“Even if you touch someone, you don’t always know?”
“No. I usually don’t.”
That seemed to relax him a little, although she was sure he didn’t believe anything she said. “I guess I could have brought something of the owner’s for him to smell. Most dogs that haven’t been trained for search and rescue don’t know what to do with it, though.”
Abandoning the effort, he executed a three-point turnaround. As he shifted into Reverse, the side of his palm grazed the length of her bare thigh. The accidental touch sent another shiver of awareness down her spine. She felt his shoulders stiffen, and knew he wasn’t as unaffected by her proximity as he pretended to be. When he stopped at one of the many small parking lots along the San Luis Rey, she practically leaped out of the truck, relieved to be free of the sensual trap circumstance had created.
There was a wide sidewalk pathway running east alongside the river from the beach all the way to Camp Pendleton. It was used by nature enthusiasts at their own peril, for the area was known as a homeless hideout. Thick copses of eucalyptus tress and wild brush gave would-be robbers plenty of ambush spots.
“Do lots of people get mugged here?” she asked.
“Not really. Walkers and bicyclists don’t typically carry a lot of cash on them. Besides, most homeless are opportunistic criminals, not violent ones.”
She eyed the bushes with trepidation.
“Are you afraid?” He seemed amused. “I have my gun.”
“Do you?” She searched his body. “Where?”
“Here.” He lifted the side of his shirt, showing her his brown leather shoulder holster. Although he wore a ribbed cotton T-shirt underneath, the glimpse of hard torso was still exciting. “We’re perfectly safe. No one would think twice about accosting you with that savage-looking beast, anyway.”
“Someone assaulted Candace Hegel,” she pointed out.
He looked away from her, toward the river. “We’ll have better luck along the shore,” he said, stepping through the thick brush. She followed, careful not to slip over the pebble-strewn bank. Thorny branches scratched at her bare legs, making her wish she’d worn long pants, but she didn’t complain.
They hiked around for another hour, crossing the shallow river several times. Her shoes became wet and squishy, her footing precarious on the uneven ground. Sidney was feeling sorry for those down on their luck enough to live here when they came upon a group of rough-looking young men smoking marijuana in the shade of a California pepper tree.
Marc put his hand on her waist casually, keeping his body between the men and her as they continued along the shore.
“Aren’t you obligated to arrest people like that?” she asked.
“For what?”
“Smoking pot.”
“If I shook down everyone with a joint I’d never get any real work done. Besides, I can’t take on a whole gang. They’d have torn me apart.”
“What’s your gun for? Show?”
Rather than taking offense, he laughed. “I don’t pull my gun unless I intend to use it.”
“And have you?”
“No. I’ve never fired it on-duty.” He arched a glance at her. “My job isn’t as exciting as what you see on TV. I battle more paperwork than bad guys.”
No sooner had he said that than Blue took off like a shot, almost yanking her arm out of the socket. He tore through the underbrush, barking ferociously and dragging her along until they came upon a startling scene.
Under the cover of the trees, a man was on top of a woman, holding one hand over her mouth. His pants were pushed down his heavy thighs; her skirt was shoved up to her waist. As Sidney stood there, stock-still, a trickle of blood coursed over the woman’s ruddy cheek.
Blue went wild. It was all she could do to keep him from attacking.
“Oceanside Police Department,” Marc said, stepping around Sidney and flashing his badge. She could feel fury pouring off him in waves. “Move back toward me, with your knees on the ground and your hands over your head.”
Ignoring the order, the guy hobbled to his feet, pulled up his pants and fled.
He didn’t get far. The fugitive was built like a linebacker, but Marc took him down easily. He also punched him in the back of the neck a few times to subdue him. It was police brutality at its finest, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away.
She didn’t see the fallen woman launch herself at Marc until too late.
“Let him go!” the wild avenger screeched, clawing at his shoulders. Too practical to release his grip on the guy underneath him, Marc had no choice but to take the abuse.
Sidney couldn’t understand why any woman would defend someone who’d just been raping and beating her. Upon closer inspection, she had the coarse complexion of an addict and the hard look of a streetwalker.
Stepping forward, Sidney urged Blue along until his intimidating mug was just inches from the woman’s crazed face. “This dog is trained to protect police officers to the death, ma’am,” she said quietly. “I suggest you move away, real slow and easy.”
The woman wasn’t so hysterical that she failed to comply.
Thankfully the guy on the ground had been too stunned to retaliate during his victim’s effort to defend him. “Look, man, it’s not what you think,” he panted. “She likes it that way.”
“Right,” Marc muttered, patting him down. “Assault and battery is illegal, whether she presses charges or not.”
The man groaned.
“You’re both going to jail,” Marc decided. “Can you control him without the leash?” he asked Sidney, glancing down at Blue.
“Yes,” she said, releasing the leash and handing it to him. Putting her arms around Blue’s neck, she narrowed her eyes on the woman, daring her to feel lucky. Marc tied the strange couple together, back-to-back, and jerked them to their feet.
“Take the cell phone out of my pocket and call dispatch,” he ordered. She did, holding the phone to his ear as he requested a patrol car. Within five minutes, both assailants were on their way downtown.
“Boring desk job, huh?” she teased.
“It has its moments,” he allowed, casting an admiring glance her way. “I should deputize you. That was pretty fast thinking.”
She smiled at the praise. “I couldn’t let you have all the fun.”
His grunted response told her wrestling with lowlifes wasn’t his idea of fun. “I’ll have to go to the station now to write up a report. You want to take a rain check on this, or have you had your fill of police work?”
Looking down at Blue, sitting stoic and regal, she found she couldn’t say no. “Maybe you should deputize him,” she murmured, wondering if the dog’s reaction to men and violence was a reflection of what happened to his owner, or something he’d learned long ago.
