Ivan quickly found his bearings and started toward his stashed clothes when he crossed the trail and froze. He picked up the woman’s scent, and then another, disquieting one.
He glanced around, making sure he was alone, and put his nose to the ground. Three men, together.
Closing his eyes, he carefully sniffed then his eyes popped open. They’d smoked crack. Recently.
Dangerous.
Swiveling his ears, he couldn’t hear them, but they went the same direction as the woman. With his heart pounding in his chest, he forgot about getting his clothes and wheeled around, trying to home in on the lone female jogger.
God-fucking-damn it, please don’t let me be too late!
Lindsey tried to shake the creepy feeling, not wanting her morning ruined like this. It wasn’t fair. She wanted to spend most of her day here.
She picked up the pace. With her free hand she turned down the volume on her music. Then she heard them.
Low voices.
Now her heart thudded in her chest. She sped up, trying to close the distance, less than a hundred yards from the end of the trail and the parking area. She didn’t want to turn and let them know she’d heard them.
Ivan poured on the speed, desperate to reach her. Maybe he was wrong, but he doubted it. His intuition rarely failed him. He cut through the woods again, trying to make up distance when he heard her scream.
A hand grabbed the back of Lindsey’s shirt as another yanked her arm. She screamed as the men turned her around, the three guys—had she thought they were teenagers?—she’d passed earlier on the trail.
“Where you goin’, lady? We want to party,” the tallest one said.
“Pretty woman like you shouldn’t be out here alone,” the shortest one offered.
She screamed, backing away, trying to fight them off. The third grinned and jumped behind her, kicking her legs out from under her.
Lindsey fell to the dirt trail under them. One of the men clamped a sweaty, grimy hand over her mouth. She bit down, hard, praying the asshole didn’t have AIDS or something.
He yelled and punched the side of her head, rocking her senses, darkness blooming behind her eyes.
“Fucking bitch bit me!”
“Yeah, well, she bites something else, I’ll cut her tits off.” The sound of a zipper and then, “What the fuck?”
That was when she heard the growl.
Holy Christ, almost too late! He growled, his hackles up, lips curled, teeth bared. He advanced, snarling.
One of the men immediately jumped to his feet and ran. Ivan fought the urge to take off after him because the woman was still on the ground under the other two assholes.
The tallest of the three stood and pulled out a switchblade.
What kind of moron carries a switchblade anymore? Be original, for chrissake.
Ivan flexed his shoulders, dropping his head not in submission but warning, tensing to spring. The asshole was still close enough to the woman he could hurt her.
The third druggie sat there, frozen in fear, and Ivan fought the urge to laugh when he smelled urine.
The stupid mofo wet his pants.
Serves him right.
The woman rolled over. Ivan was happy to see all her clothes still on her body, although her shirt looked ripped. When she spotted him, her eyes widened.
Ivan winked at her then took a step forward, his gaze on the man still on the ground.
Lindsey rolled over. Holy fucking shit! That couldn’t be a dog, could it? It looked like a…like a huge black wolf. With a generous dusting of silver throughout his coat and huge grey eyes, he stood over four feet tall at the shoulders.
Did he just wink at me?
She blinked, sure she imagined it. Stress, maybe even shock, who knew?
She wouldn’t question it. The dog, or wolf, had probably just saved her.
One of the attackers immediately ran. A second stood up and backed off, and the third rolled away from her.
“Lady, look, call off your fucking dog.”
She was too numb to talk. She loved dogs, but this wasn’t just a dog.
It took another step forward, eyes on the man on the ground, the one closest to her. She prayed the dog wouldn’t attack her, and she slowly crawled toward it. It was her bad luck these assholes jumped her, and freaky good luck this canine pony happened by.
As she drew closer to the black beast, it sidled around her, putting itself—himself, she suspected—between the remaining men and her.
Only then did she draw herself to her knees and saw one of the attackers had a knife.
“Be careful,” she whispered to the dog. It didn’t seem to have a collar and tags, but his thick fur could easily hide them.
Did it nod at her?
The guy still sitting stood up and backed away. That was when the dog viciously barked and lunged.
Mr. Knife wasn’t as brave as he looked. He ran, tripping and falling onto the knife. He screamed in pain.
Stupid fuck never learned not to run with scissors. Great.
“Aw, fuck!” his cowardly friend, Mr. Pantswetter, yelled.
Lindsey screamed. “Help! Rape! Help!”
Ivan winced at her piercing cry, wishing he could tell her to put a sock in it. The braniac who fell on his own damn knife would need an ambulance, no doubt, but Ivan worried more about getting her to safety.
He backed into her and swung his head around to bump her. He felt her hands tangle in the dense fur at the scruff of his neck.
Ooh, long fingers. Strong fingers. Bet they’d feel good…
Crap, now he was sporting wood.
He sat in front of her, pressed against her, wishing she’d shut up. The second attacker, Sir Pissalot, looked at his writhing, bleeding friend, and ran.
Coward.
Five minutes later, two rangers raced down the trail, one leaning over the injured man. The other ranger dropped to one knee next to the woman, who’d blessedly stopped screaming now that the cavalry had shown up too fucking late.
“What happened?”
She sobbed, her arm circling Ivan’s neck. Despite her patina of fear she smelled…
Yum.
Fuck, and he’d almost softened again.
“I was jogging…and three of them…the other two…he had a knife and when the dog growled, he ran and tripped and fell on it…” She broke down in tears again.
Unable to help himself, Ivan licked her face, trying to comfort her.
Yeah, right, okay, so he wasn’t just trying to comfort her.
Jeremy would be totally pissed, but too fucking bad. This was more important.
“Is this your dog, ma’am?”
Ivan froze. Oh, shit.
She stroked his fur. “Yes. Yes he is.”
Ivan heard her pulse quicken at the lie.
“You do know they’re supposed to be on a leash and have a collar and tags?”
The woman tensed. Ivan whined, praying she could lie convincingly. Holy fucking shit, now he had to depend on her, at least until Matlock and Barney Fife got their act together and stumbled out of eyeshot so he could run for his clothes.
“He slipped his collar.” She cradled Ivan’s head in her palms and met his gaze, winking. “Thank God he stayed with me.”
He couldn’t help it. He winked back.
The rangers overlooked the uncollared dog considering she almost got raped. She stood just short enough she could tightly knot her fingers in Ivan’s fur at the scruff of his neck as the rangers escorted them to the parking lot.