Chapter 277: Her Bear Had One Small Objection

DOVE’S POV

Dove handed Edrik the radio without taking her eyes off the road.

"Tell the relay where we are. Not where we want to be. Where we are right now."

He gave the service road’s name, the pumping station ahead, and the workshop sign she had just passed. The signal broke twice. He repeated it until an operator answered and read the location back.

Ahead, a stopped truck blocked the service road where it narrowed beside a ditch. Men stood on either side of it. Dove could reverse toward the motorcycle or try the workshop yard, where the map showed a path continuing behind the building. She turned toward the workshop before the men reached her window.

"I don’t want them following us to Thorne," she said.

"Neither do I. What are you thinking?"

The side road ended in a gravel yard beside a concrete building with two wide vehicle doors. One stood partly open. A narrow office door faced the yard, and a chain-link fence separated the back of the property from scrub and a drainage ditch. The van could turn in the yard if she kept clear of the scrap piled along the wall.

"That path might get us around their truck. You watch the road while I check where it comes out."

"That puts you where I can’t see you."

She opened her mouth, then closed it. He wasn’t dismissing the idea because it was hers. He was pointing out the part that asked him to be in two places.

"Fine. We check together. Van stays facing out."

"Better."

"You don’t have to sound so pleased about being right."

"I’m trying to be modest. It’s difficult."

She almost laughed. Almost was enough to loosen the tightness in her throat. Her spent shield would not be back today; she needed the building between her and their guns.

A faded sign on the building named it as the reservoir maintenance workshop. Dove read it aloud for the radio, then added the yellow fuel tank visible behind the fence. A real landmark might help someone find them faster than her frightened description of a concrete building. Edrik passed the details on, and she waited for the operator to repeat them before putting the radio down.

They parked beside the open workshop door. Edrik checked the interior first while Dove stood in the van doorway where he could see her. The building held an empty service pit, a workbench, and two old machines pushed against the far wall. No people, no back exit large enough for the van, and a side door opening toward the fenced strip of ground.

The path behind the fence was too narrow for the van. Dove went straight back to the driver’s door, intending to reverse out before they were boxed in, but the motorcycle had already turned into the side road. Edrik caught her arm and drew her behind the concrete doorway.

"Cover first," he said. "We clear them, then move."

She stored the loose items from the van that they didn’t need immediately, then kept the ready bag and radio beside the concrete doorway. Medical supplies, one sealed treatment bottle, drinking water, clean cloths. They were not going to spend a dangerous minute remembering which bag contained the useful things.

*Sprout, I need you to help me find things quickly if I ask. Cloths, water, anything I can use. No cheerful sales pitch.*

*Understood.*

The simple answer steadied her. She didn’t need Sprout to become a hero. She needed it to do the part it could actually do.

Edrik watched the road from the shelter of the workshop wall. Dove stood beside him and counted what she could see: their van, the bend in the side road, the fence behind them. Too many directions for one man when every threat wanted the same person.

She looked toward the back fence, then at the road Edrik was watching. Another husband could cover that fence while he dealt with the men in front. Right now she had to keep turning her head, hoping she wouldn’t look the wrong way when somebody moved.

"When we get out of this," she said, "I’m going to have a very serious conversation with our dragon problem."

Edrik looked at her. "He’ll enjoy being called ours."

"He can enjoy it silently until I decide what I mean."

That earned a real smile, brief and sharp. Then the motorcycle appeared at the bend, and the smile vanished.

Two men came toward the yard. The passenger raised his gun before the driver stopped.

Dove ducked behind the concrete doorway. Edrik reached the van’s open door and pressed his palm against it. The first shot struck metal. He waited until the rider came close enough to turn, then shoved the door into the passenger and dragged him off the seat.

The driver tried to accelerate. Dove threw the loose plastic crate she’d taken from beside the workbench into his front wheel. It wasn’t elegant, and it didn’t knock him across the county. It made him swerve hard enough that Edrik caught his jacket and pulled him down.

The motorcycle fell with a grinding crash.

Dove stayed behind cover while Edrik took the guns and pushed both men away from them. One tried to get up. Edrik made it clear that was a bad choice, then came back to her without chasing the other as he crawled toward the road.

"You and the crate," he said, breathing hard, "were very rude."

"He didn’t seem open to feedback."

Her voice shook at the end. Edrik touched her cheek with the back of his fingers, checking her face without taking his eyes off the yard for long.

"You did well. Get the bag inside."

She did. She also moved the radio farther from the door and sent one more short call through, giving the workshop again. The operator answered with a promise to relay it. Help wasn’t in the yard yet, but somebody knew which yard to look for.

A vehicle engine sounded beyond the bend.

Edrik turned before she did. Light spread across the road, bright enough to show through the dust around their van.

Dove saw the fox-eared man step down beside it, his burned sleeve hanging loose.

"Inside," she told Edrik. "Now."

He started toward her as the light in the man’s hand grew white.