Free Diamond in the Rough (Diamond J #2) by Lori L. Robinett

assure the cat that the dogs were gone and that he meant her no harm. The cat’s back arched and her ears pinned back against her head as she bared her sharp teeth.
    At that moment, he heard a fierce growl behind him.
    He turned slowly, pivoting on one foot. He knew he was in a very vulnerable position. The two shepherd mixes had returned, only temporarily scared away. They inched forward, fur bristling on their backs, their fangs glowing white in the darkness, and he could imagine the saliva dripping from their mouths, frothing in their killing frenzy. He prayed that the cat would stay behind him, quiet and low. The last thing he needed at that moment was for the cat to cause the dogs to charge.
    He kept his eyes on the two dogs and slowly raised up. He kept his weight forward, on the balls of his feet, ready to move if either of the animals pounced. The cat panted behind him, exhausted after fighting the dogs off. His heart thudded in his chest. The dogs looked even more menacing in the light of the headlights, like something out of a horror movie. An image of Cujo pouncing at the window of the little car flashed through his mind.
    This was not good.
    The larger of the German Shepherd mixes took two quick steps forward and then settled his weight on his haunches, ready to pounce. Just as the dog launched himself toward Aidan, there was a loud pop and a thwump.
    The scrubby tree on the other side of the ditch shivered in the night. The dogs yelped, tucked tail and ran. Aidan blinked in the darkness, stunned. A gunshot? But who shot?
    Beau yelled, “Get down!”
    Aidan dropped to the ground, then cautiously lifted his head and peered into the darkness. He spotted Beau, a dark silhouette in the harsh glare of the headlight. Aidan whispered as loud as he dared, “You okay?”
    “Yeah. You?”
    “Yeah.” He’d hit the ground hard and his ribs ached. “What the hell was that?”
    Heavy footsteps whipped through the tall green grass. A voice boomed through the night. “Get up slow and keep your hands where I can see them.”
    Another voice commanded, “Slowly.”
    Aidan swallowed hard, placed his hands flat on the ground and pushed to his feet. Hands raised, fingers splayed, he slowly turned to see Beau doing the same. His heart thudded in his chest and his mouth was dry. Alone on a deserted country road. There were only two of them, but how many of the other guys?
    The gruff voice softened. “Beau? Aidan?”
    Aidan squinted at the two dark shapes next to Aidan’s truck and slowly lowered his hands. The muscles in his legs bunched, and he fisted his hands, ready to spring if necessary.
    Beau demanded, “Who the fuck are you?”
    “Easy now. Calm down.” The two figures stepped into the light in front of the truck, the taller one holding out a long gun in front of him with one hand. “It’s me, Frank Donovan.”
    The wider man spoke up, “And me, Dave Murray.” The light glinted on the long gun he held at his side.
    “You shot at us!” Aidan’s temper flared. He clenched his fists so tight they hurt. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
    Beau stepped closer and put a hand on Aidan’s forearm. “Easy,” he whispered. To the men, he said, “What are you doing out here?”
    Frank spoke first. “After my cattle were stolen, some of us decided to start a sort of neighborhood watch program. We been takin’ turns patrolling the pastures around here.”
    “I didn’t shoot at you,” Dave added. His voice sounded defensive. “I shot to scare those dogs off, ‘cause you looked like you was in trouble.”
    Aidan shook his head, his chest still heaving. “We were fine.” He flexed his hands, his fingers aching from being clenched. He peered into the ditch. No sign of the cat. The dogs were long gone.
    “You didn’t look fine,” retorted Dave.
    Beau sucked in a breath with a hiss. “Frank, you’re better than this. You guys can’t go around taking the law into your own hands. Someone’s gonna get