When Summer Comes (Whiskey Creek #3)(43)
Author: Brenda Novak

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Rifle jumped on Callie’s bed and howled at the ceiling, waking her from a deep sleep.

“What is it? What’s going on?” she gasped, struggling to come to full awareness.

He didn’t wait for her to gain her bearings. He barked, howled, then barked again and jumped down, after which he dashed out of her bedroom.

“Rifle! What’s wrong with you? Come here, boy!” She managed a short whistle despite her grogginess, but the dog wouldn’t obey. He was going berserk out in the living room—running and barking and throwing himself against the front door, from the sounds of it.

Her heart pounded as her mind raced. Did they have another visitor?

That was her first guess. But Rifle wasn’t acting the way he’d behaved when Levi showed up—or even how he’d behaved when the steroid-crazed Denny and Powell paid her a visit. Her German shepherd wasn’t trying to scare off an intruder or make her aware that they had company. He was upset.

No, he was frantic. Why?

A crash—the sound of shattering glass—made her blood run cold.

Had someone just broken in? If so, they’d managed to silence Rifle. She could no longer hear him barking.

“Oh, God!” As she scrambled out of bed, she considered pulling on a robe but didn’t dare take the time. Already dressed in a pair of silky pajama shorts and a matching spaghetti-strap top, she figured that would have to be good enough. She was afraid her dog had been killed—and that she might be next!

“Rifle?” she called while searching for her pellet gun. If her dog was dead, she was going to need some way to defend herself. There was no telling if Levi even knew they had trouble. It wasn’t as if he had a cell phone she could call.

She found the pellet gun leaning against the wall in her closet, where she’d put it yesterday. But before she could reach the living room she caught a whiff of smoke and paused. Something was burning! The house?

Fires were supposed to be loud, but…she couldn’t hear any crackling.

Maybe someone had thrown a bottle rocket through the front window and it was setting the carpet on fire….

“Rifle!” Now she felt completely frantic. But she forced herself to proceed with caution. She didn’t want to be stupid, didn’t want to walk into trouble.

Gun raised, she crept out of her room and scanned the shadowy furniture, searching for her dog, for any sign of fire, for an intruder. Besides the broken window, she couldn’t see anything amiss. Her dog was simply…gone.

Then she heard Rifle bellowing and realized he was outside.

What the heck? Relieved but perplexed, she kept her gun at the ready and slid over to the window to peer out.

Her jaw dropped and her arms sagged to the point her weapon nearly slipped from her hands. Bright orange-and-gold flames leaped from the barn, sending up a roiling black smoke.

She’d found the source of the smell.

And something else became clear. There was no glass on the carpet. No one had broken her window, attempting to get in. Her dog had jumped through it, desperate to get out.

Rifle was going for Levi. She could hear his howl as he reached the barn. But the structure appeared to be consumed by flames, and Callie feared it was already too late.

14

Levi felt a tug on his arm, then several sharp teeth sank into his flesh. He assumed he was being attacked again—and yet he couldn’t fight. He didn’t have the strength. His mind ordered him to react, to defend himself, but his body was sluggish and resistant.

It wasn’t real, he decided. He was having one of those dreams, the kind where he ran and ran but never went anywhere. This dream involved dogs because he’d recently had a bad experience with them.

As soon as his mind conjured up that answer, which seemed to make sense, he began to sink back into sleep. That was all he wanted to do…drift away into peaceful nothingness. He didn’t have to muster the energy to fight if the threat wasn’t real—

But those damn teeth.

Something dragged him halfway out of bed before letting go. Then the animal—it had to be a dog because of the barking—jumped on top of him, leaped off and barked some more before trying to drag him farther.

When fresh pain lanced through his arm, Levi finally got mad enough to battle the lethargy. Damn it! He wasn’t going to be mauled again!

He came up swinging, which sent the dog flying, but the determined animal crept toward him again. Only this time, he didn’t come so close. He made a racket while dancing around, just out of reach.

It wasn’t until Levi tried to shout at the damn thing to get away and couldn’t draw enough breath to do so that he recognized Rifle. At the same moment, it occurred to him that the night was far hotter than any he’d ever experienced. The heat pressed in on him from all sides.

What was going on?

Then it hit him. This might be surreal, but it wasn’t a dream. Neither was it another dog attack. He was in his room in the barn at Callie’s, and Rifle was trying to wake him because the barn was on fire.

Shit! Panic gave him a burst of energy. As he glanced around, taking in the flames devouring the old wood, he couldn’t believe his eyes. The fire had sucked most of the oxygen out of the enclosed space, leaving carbon monoxide and Lord knew what other noxious gases. No wonder he couldn’t seem to come around. That was what he’d been breathing—what he was still breathing.

“Go!” He managed a hoarse cry to the dog and stumbled to his feet. The back door hung slightly ajar. He pointed at it while lunging forward. “I’m up! Get out!”

The dog started to obey, but once he got to the door he doubled back to prod Levi on.

Levi wasn’t sure he would’ve reached the yard without Rifle’s badgering. The dog provided him with a focus as well as a constant reminder. Crouch low. Keep moving. He thought that over and over—because the darkness that hovered at the edges of his mind could’ve overtaken him at any time. He had to push it away, resist its strange allure, or he wouldn’t come out of this alive.

What was probably only a few seconds seemed like an eternity, but he finally staggered through the door—and almost knocked Callie to the ground. She was just entering the barn, obviously looking for him and her dog.

“Get back!” He dragged her with him into the cool, clear night, but it wasn’t easy. His skin felt as if it was melting off, and his lungs were seared. He struggled to get enough oxygen even now that he was away from the worst of the smoke.

But luckily, no one seemed to be hurt. His bike was, for the moment, safe in the clearing. And he couldn’t see any flames coming from the house. Those things bolstered his strength. The fire seemed to be concentrated in one place—but it wouldn’t be long before it began to spread….