Shield of Protection Read online

  Protecting and serving in the Big Apple

  An exciting prequel to the True Blue K-9 Unit series

  Her uncle’s business practices have put a target on April Reed’s back. He’s gone into hiding, and April’s the only link the drug runners have to him. NYPD K-9 Unit officer Declan Maxwell and his dog Storm will do anything to keep her safe. With danger stalking them, they’ll race to save her uncle without losing their lives in the process.

  Dana Mentink is a national bestselling author. She has been honored to win two Carol Awards, a HOLT Medallion and an RT Reviewers’ Choice Best Book Award. She’s authored more than thirty novels to date for Love Inspired Suspense and Harlequin Heartwarming. Dana loves feedback from her readers. Contact her at danamentink.com.

  Books by Dana Mentink

  Love Inspired Suspense

  True Blue K-9 Unit

  Shield of Protection

  Gold Country Cowboys

  Cowboy Christmas Guardian

  Treacherous Trails

  Cowboy Bodyguard

  Lost Christmas Memories

  Military K-9 Unit

  Top Secret Target

  Rookie K-9 Unit

  Seek and Find

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.

  Shield of Protection

  Dana Mentink

  For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.

  —2. Timothy 1:7

  To the North Valley Animal Disaster group for their unceasing work to reunite families and animals in the wake of the Camp Fire.

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  DEAR READER

  EXCERPT FROM AMISH HAVEN BY DANA R. LYNN

  ONE

  A bead of sweat trickled down April Reed’s temple in spite of the March cold that seeped along the New York sidewalk.

  Where was he? The man was coming for her, tall, dark-eyed, grim, closing the gap between them, waiting to strike. Fear crawled along her spine, and she felt exposed, vulnerable. To her right was the dark maw, the entrance to the subway station where there would be safety in the crowds of commuters and security cameras. Should she stay the course? Hide? After one more moment of hesitation, she jogged down the steps.

  She didn’t want to be trapped in a station, especially this one in Queens, where she knew Declan Maxwell and his K-9, Storm, had been assigned for police training. As she hustled along, she strained to spot him in his uniform, broad-shouldered, intense, with those indescribable green-gold eyes, but he wasn’t there. Relief and disappointment mingled. It was just as well. He couldn’t know what she was involved in, not now, not ever.

  People milled around, newspapers tucked under their arms, peering at cell phones and clutching steaming coffee in paper cups. She hadn’t intended to allow any delay in getting to her uncle, until she noticed the man watching her on the icy sidewalk outside the steps to the station, the man Uncle Hal warned her about. He’d texted a picture of her pursuer along with a chilling message.

  Watch out for Spade’s guy. He’s a killer.

  Nondescript in jeans and a jacket, he sported a black knit cap pulled down over his forehead like any of a million other New York City residents, since winter was refusing to give way to spring. In one moment his casual glance turned intense, riveted on her as he pushed off from the wall where he’d been slouching and began to follow as she hurried along.

  Her uncle’s frantic stream of messages replayed in her mind. I don’t know which cops to trust. I have to get you the evidence before Spade kills me. It’s the only way to keep us both alive. Meet me at Queensbridge Park.

  Malcolm Spade’s people must have somehow found out that her uncle had contacted her. It was clear her pursuer had orders. Stop her from getting to her uncle. Maybe even kill her in case Uncle Hal had already passed along some of this dirt he had on Spade. Skin prickling, she tried not to show the tension roiling around in her gut.

  Keep moving. Don’t let him catch you.

  Quickly shoving her pale blond hair into her hood, she hoped it would make her stand out less. Why hadn’t she taken the time to grab a hat or scarf? As she hurried through the bustle of morning commuters, she felt her confidence fail. Could she actually save her uncle from Malcolm Spade? Perhaps it had also been an error to go it alone, without calling the police, without telling Declan. But she’d been right about one thing; Malcolm Spade, the man who would do anything to stop her from getting to her Uncle Hal, was a monster.

  She’d begged her uncle, pleaded with him. “I told you, Uncle Hal. You never should have taken a job with Spade. He’s a drug dealer, a murderer.”

  Uncle Hal had laughed away her earlier concerns. “He’s done his time, and we were like brothers, back on the docks. Don’t believe everything you hear.”

  If only he’d listened. He’d be safe and sound, and maybe she’d still have Declan in her life. But how could she allow the growing connection between her and Declan when her own kin was rubbing elbows with a criminal? Not after what Declan had been through, shamed by his own cop father’s fall from grace.

  She scanned the crowd again and ordered her thoughts.

  “Nothing was right between you and Declan anyway,” she muttered to herself. He was best friends with her brother, Kyle, that was all, and besides, the humiliating moment she’d given in to her feelings and kissed him, he’d made it clear. After the breakup with his serious girlfriend, Paige, Declan needed her friendship, not her love.

  Focus on getting Uncle Hal out of his mess. It wouldn’t be an easy task. Uncle Hal had obviously seen something he wasn’t meant to, and now there was a big fat target painted on his back. She’d never heard her lionhearted, jovial uncle scared. Not even when her parents had been killed and he’d taken her in at the precarious age of thirteen, her brother newly turned seventeen. She’d been angry and rebellious enough to scare anyone off—teachers, friends, social workers—but not Uncle Hal.

  “Looks like God’s appointed me to be a father to you and Kyle, and that’s what I’m going to do whether you like it or not,” he’d said, that wide gap-toothed smile plastered across his full cheeks.

  A bundled man jostled her elbow, and her breath hitched, but he was just a regular guy, jockeying for position among the others on the platform. Should she get on the train or scurry up the steps back onto the street? Scanning the crowd, her pulse skittered.

  There he was, standing by the turnstile. She eased back. A uniformed officer strolled by, and the man nodded at the cop. The officer nodded back. His dog shot a wary look at the stranger but did not react. The elite Vapor Wake dogs of the NYPD were the best in the world at scenting potential bombs, Declan had proudly informed her. They could detect faint whiffs of explosive particles in the thermal heat plumes humans created as they walked. The dogs could actually decipher different levels of odor, discerning the difference between a concealed firearm and multiple pounds of explosives. If the stranger was packing a weapon, would the dog detect it? Undoubtedly, but the dogs were not trained to alert on weapons, only explosives.

  Her body went rigid as the man saw her. He immediately headed in her direction. A subway train arrived, and she jerked toward the open door, but the tide of people prevented her from hopping aboard. The stairs up to the street were too far away. Panic flashed through her, hot and sharp.

  The cop. She could get near him, ask for directions, anything to stay close
to his protection. The stranger would not hurt her with a cop in full view.

  As she darted toward the officer, a shout on the edge of the platform drew his attention. An elderly woman was sprawled on the ground, having tripped and fallen. The cop hurried away, talking into his radio to summon an ambulance and perhaps hold the train in station.

  The crowd dissipated around April and suddenly she realized there was no one nearby to help her. She opened her mouth to scream but her enemy was there, a few strides away, smiling as he bore down on her.

  * * *

  Declan Maxwell accepted the good-natured ribbing from his friends as he sat crammed in the back seat of the squad car with his dog sprawled on his lap. Between his own police gear, Carter and his brother Jordan Jameson’s, and a seventy-pound German shorthaired pointer draped across his knees, it was a tight squeeze. At least they hadn’t schlepped along Carter’s and Jordan’s dogs, too. Chief Jordan Jameson, leader of the NYPD K-9 Command Unit, laughed at him from the front seat.

  “What are you complaining about? Most of the Vapor Wake dogs are German shepherds or Malinois, and you’ve got some raggedy pointer who loves his pink squeaky toy.”

  Embarrassing at it was, Storm would not accept any other toy reward for doing his job but a silly pink rubber bone with hearts stamped on the side. No matter what other dog toys Declan tried, Storm barked until he got the pink one. He got plenty of teasing from all the other officers. At the moment, Declan had a couple dozen pink squeaky bones in his locker as well as two stuffed in his pocket.

  “Storm’s got a better nose than any of them. She’s killing it in her training.”

  “Don’t get cocky,” Carter said. “Any the dogs in our unit are just as good as your Vapor Wake mutts.” Carter didn’t need to remind Declan. All of the Jameson brothers, Jordan, Carter, Zach and Noah, were K-9 officers, and their dogs were of the highest caliber.

  Sometimes Declan wished he’d decided to work a less specialized dog which would put him under Chief Jordan Jameson’s direct leadership. Jordy’s NYC K-9 Command Unit, headquartered in Queens, was the best of the best, dispatched throughout the five boroughs at any time depending on their specialties. Vapor-sniffing dogs like Storm required a separate kind of training and thus he would report to a different commanding officer, though Jordy was technically still his chief. Jordy’s brothers Carter, Noah and Zach were all under Jordy’s command, and Declan envied their tight family bond.

  “You’ve got another week of training to mess up,” Carter was saying “If you start to get a big head, I’ve got plenty of stories to keep you humble.”

  He did, too. Carter and Declan had been friends since their middle school basketball days, and Carter had enough dirt on him to last a lifetime. He wasn’t afraid to shovel it when necessary. Carter had been there when Declan returned home from Afghanistan, a wreck inside and out. It was one of Declan’s biggest regrets that he had not been stateside when Carter’s wife died in childbirth six years ago, leaving him sole parent of their baby girl. He’d tried to make up for it after he got his head on straight again. Even with Carter’s support, he wouldn’t have made it if it weren’t for April Reed, his best friend Kyle’s sister.

  That thought made him shift on the seat.

  Upon Declan’s return home three years before, April and her team at the volunteer group Four Legged Heroes, helped him reunite with his patrol dog, Otto. The group’s mission was to return retired service dogs to their previous handlers for the benefit of both. Thanks to April, Otto had lived out his civilian days in ease with Declan until he’d passed peacefully, and they’d both healed each other. Thinking about April left a hollow ache in his gut. He plastered on a smile anyway. “Working with dogs keeps a person plenty humble.”

  Jordan laughed. The normally quiet older brother was surprisingly chipper, as if he’d gotten some good news he wasn’t ready to divulge. Declan didn’t have time to comment on it as the squad car pulled to the curb outside the station.

  “Don’t let him chew up anyone’s shoes,” Carter said.

  Declan’s cheeks grew hot. “Er, yeah, sorry about your boot. I owe you a pair.” Storm was a highly trained police dog on the cusp of becoming one of the elite Vapor Wake squad, but at the end of the day he was still a dog, and a naughty one at that.

  “Yes, you do,” Carter said. “I’m keeping a tab. Counting the days until you finish your training and move out of our house and back to your apartment as soon as the water damage is repaired.”

  Declan stroked Storm’s ears. “Should be any day now. My neighbor upstairs is embarrassed to show his face after falling asleep with the water running in the sink. I appreciate being able to bunk at your place.”

  “Our folks would never turn away a cop and his dog, even a scraggly one like yours,” Carter said. “Now get out and make that mutt behave, wouldya?”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Got your pocketful of pink bones?” Jordan teased.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Fine, then.” Jordan caught him in the rearview mirror, his face suddenly serious. “You’re a good cop, Deck. They’ll all see it.”

  Would they? Could his fellow cops overlook the shame Declan’s father had garnered when he’d stolen drugs from an evidence locker while on duty? Declan wasn’t naive. Cops talked. News traveled, and everyone in the NYPD was aware of what Declan’s father had done, just as Declan was beginning his police career in earnest.

  He swallowed, nodded. After some juggling, he uncorked himself and Storm from the back seat and headed into the station. The first part of his daily training mission was to reacclimatize Storm to the sights, smells and general chaos of the subway. He let out some leash and allowed him to sniff away, floppy ears swaying as he took in the hubbub. An elderly lady was being helped by a pair of medics. The cop overseeing bobbed a chin at him. Declan returned the greeting and moved Storm past the group. A flash of color caught his attention as a woman rushed along.

  Hair so blond it was like morning sunlight spilled out from underneath the woman’s hood. The hood fell back from the face to reveal the petite features of April Reed. Terror distorted her bow of a mouth, concealed the dimple, darkened the pale blue of her irises.

  Shock flashed through him like an electric current.

  Her eyes, scared, vulnerable, found his, widening with recognition. “Declan.”

  “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  Her breath came in short bursts as she started to step around him. He reached for her wrist and tried to hold her still. “Tell me, April.”

  She bit her lip, face white as paper, then she ducked past him, toward the exit stairs. Storm stiffened, tracking her every movement. Before Declan could rally his senses, a skinny guy with a ski cap sprinted after her, clattering up the steps from behind.

  A second later, Declan was in pursuit. Storm did not need to be urged. The dog was born to run and chase.

  “Stop! Police!” Declan shouted. He had no idea what he’d seen or hadn’t, but the fright on April’s face was seared into his retinas, and his muscles surged with adrenaline. Some guy was after her. That’s all he needed to know.

  Storm was a length ahead of him, yanking the leash attached to his harness as they made it to the landing at the top.

  “Stop...” Declan began again, reaching for his sidearm.

  In slow-motion horror he saw the glint of a knife arc up in the man’s hand, then he thrust the knife down toward April’s chest.

  TWO

  April heard the rip of the knife slicing through her puffy jacket, but she was already stumbling backward onto the sidewalk. The impact knocked the wind out of her. Colors and sounds cascaded through her senses. Shouts, barks, the navy blue of Declan’s uniform as he hovered over her, the damp cold of the cement, the wet nose of a dog sniffing her ankle. Finally, her vision came back into focus. Declan was saying her name, tugging the zipper
of her jacket.

  “April, sweetness. Can you talk?”

  Sweetness. Her heart quivered at the nickname. She blinked, and he came into focus, heavy brows knit, breathing hard. Profound relief swept Declan’s face. Storm pushed past him and licked her cheek, snuffling her pockets to find the treats she’d always brought for him when she and Declan took him running.

  Declan called the dog off and put him into a sit. “Hey there. I was worried. He got your jacket with the knife, but it looks like that’s all. Anything else hurt? Your head? Did you hit your head when you fell?”

  No, she wanted to say, but she couldn’t make the words come out. With a start she recalled the attack and jerked to a sitting position, terror flashing through her limbs. Her motion incited a bark from Storm. It was a struggle to control her heaving lungs.

  Declan squeezed her arm. “It’s okay. One breath at a time. We’ve got cops looking for him, but he’s gone for now.” His gentle fingers found the exposed skin on the inside of her wrist. “What’s going on, April?”

  A cop with a name tag of Lieutenant Farro appeared at Declan’s elbow, obviously his commanding officer.

  “Do you need an ambulance, ma’am?” Farro asked.

  She shook her head to clear it. “I’m okay.”

  His gaze slid from her to Declan. “You two are...acquainted?”

  Declan hesitated for a split second before he answered. “Yes, longtime friends.”

  Farro considered. “So why is Burner after you, ma’am?”

  “Burner?”

  Declan frowned as his captain continued.

  “The knife man, he goes by Burner. Spent a lot of time tracking him before I transferred to Vapor Wake.” A slight pause. “Burner works for Malcolm Spade.”

  Declan stared at his lieutenant. April hated to watch the pieces fall into place. Malcolm Spade, a man who was rapidly becoming the mobster kingpin of the city of New York, was after April. Now Declan would work on the why.