Adam had heard the faint rustle in the underbrush. He’d frozen in place, only turning his head to make sure the sound was coming from as low as he’d thought. After a couple of seconds he was sure, and so wasn’t surprised when Cutter appeared out of the darkness, his plumed, lighter-colored tail more visible than his dark head and shoulders. What faint light there was on this overcast night was caught by the dog’s eyes, a dark sort of gleam, as if nothing could completely mask the glow of intelligence there.

He’d greeted the dog with a scratch behind his right ear as he’d seen Quinn do. He’d been wondering how to tell the dog to go back to his watchdog duties, remembering about something he’d read once about how to puncture your ego by trying to give orders to someone else’s dog, when it happened.

In an instant Cutter went from amiable pet to ferocious guardian. The dog let out a spine-tingling growl as he whirled around. He was gone so fast, back the way he’d come, that it took Adam a split second to react and follow. But he figured there had to be a reason Quinn trusted the dog’s instincts so much, and given he was headed back toward Amanda, he wasn’t about to ignore the obvious signals.

As they burst out of the trees Cutter’s vocalizing changed to a half bark, half snarl that would send anyone with an ounce of self-preservation running. Or if they were smart, climbing, because it was doubtful anybody would be able to outrun the dog who was running full tilt, head down, teeth bared.

The instant he saw where the dog was headed Adam’s heart jammed up in his throat. There were two figures on the sidewalk in front of Amanda’s house, one larger, hulking, the other smaller, slender, and struggling, kicking. Amanda. He didn’t think he’d ever run so fast in his life, even when he’d had to qualify at the academy.

He could tell the moment when the man heard them coming—Cutter, no doubt, that vicious-sounding, snarling growl seemed to echo in the night air—because suddenly there was space between him and Amanda. Time slowed down in that crazy way it did when things were happening fast. She kicked at the man, threw an elbow toward his head, which Adam could now see was swathed in a kind of covering that reminded him of some of the violent street protesters he’d encountered while in uniform.

He also saw something in his hand, the barest glint on metal. A knife.