Wild Justice (Nadia Stafford 3)

He struggled not to smile. "That's an excellent idea."

"Great! Come on, girl. Let's find us a missing puppy."

I passed the guy and got ten paces before I heard the whir of his jacket being unzipped. I turned so quickly he jumped.

"Oooh," I said. "You might want to leave that zipped up. The deer ticks are bad this time of year, and we've had a few cases of Lyme disease."

He looked at my undone jacket.

"I'm wearing spray."

"So am I."

There is no such thing as anti-tick spray, but I grinned and said, "Carry on, then."

I turned back and tugged out my gun. I waited for the telltale whisper of him starting to unholster his weapon then wheeled.

He stared at the Glock pointing at his chest.

When his hand moved under his jacket, I barked, "Stop!" but he kept drawing his weapon. As soon as I saw the butt, I fired.

The shot hit him in the right shoulder and he staggered back, releasing his grip on the gun. I lunged, dropping Scout's lead as I grabbed his right arm and twisted it. I threw him down. I kicked his gun aside.

"On your stomach!" I said. "Hands behind your back!"

"You shot me," he said, gasping in pain. "You fucking--"

"On your stomach!"

I rammed my foot into the small of his back, knocking him into position. Scout jumped on his back, growling. I ordered her off, which she did, seemingly with reluctance.

"Hands behind your back!" I said.

"What are you? A fucking cop?"

I grabbed his right arm and pinned it against his back. He yowled but stopped struggling. I patted him down. There was a switchblade in his pocket. I pulled that out. Then I found a zip tie in his jacket pocket.

"You bring your own handcuffs?" I said. "Now that is convenient."

He resisted having his hands cuffed behind his back, but a slam to his injured shoulder stopped that. I got the zip tie on his wrists and then used Scout's leash to bind his legs. Once he was secured, I did another pat-down search, making sure I hadn't missed any weapons. Finally I removed his wallet.

He had a New York State driver's license. A decent fake. He had a credit card in the same name--Douglas Leeds--but the cash-stuffed wallet told me he preferred to pay that way.

"Why were you following me?" I asked.

Silence.

I did another pat down, as thorough as possible now. When something crinkled in his windbreaker, I realized he had an extra pocket sewn in the liner. Inside was a folded sheet of paper.

I pulled the paper out and opened it. It was a computer printout with two photos on it. One was a slightly blurry photo of me in disguise at the bar in Newport. The other was an equally crappy photo of me leading a group of rock climbers near the lodge--likely something he found online. Below that was my name, address, date of birth, and information about the lodge.

"Are we going to talk about this?" I said, shoving the paper down beside his face.

He turned his stony gaze to mine. "No."

"All right then."

I took off my shoe and then my sock, and I stuffed the sock into his mouth. He fought then, teeth gritted against the pain in his shoulder. But I managed to get it in without being bitten.