She was failing, and Kelly was somewhere, suffering because of it.

Lost in her thoughts, it took a few seconds for her to realize something wasn’t right, that she was being followed. There was no sound, just a sensation. An eerie knowledge that something was behind her and getting closer. With an uncharacteristic calmness, perhaps brought on by the whiskey or the numbness from losing Kelly, she slipped a hand inside her coat and removed the can of Mace her sister always kept tucked in the inside pocket.

Kelly with her “I can take on the world” outlook wouldn’t be afraid — neither would Kara. She slipped her thumb under the safety cap.

Despite her resolve, the combination of alcohol, pain and adrenaline made her almost giddy. Why didn’t the bastard just jump her and get it over with?

She didn’t have to wait much longer. Within seconds, the heat of his breath crawled over the back of her neck. She spun, the can hissing as it released a steady stream of Mace.

Instantly, she realized her error. Too soon. Her would-be attacker was still fifteen feet away, and…she took a steadying breath…wasn’t human.

A shaggy-looking dog stared back at her.

“Go home, puppy,” she called, suppressing the sudden surge of panic that threatened to drive her to her knees. Dogs; she hated dogs. Had since… Refusing to let her mind slip back in time, she gripped the Mace can, the feel of the cool metal against her palm reassuring.

Stay calm, she recited mentally. That was what the trainer she’d talked with afterward had told her. Don’t panic. Don’t run. It is very rare that a dog attacks for no reason. Don’t give him one. Filling her lungs with air, she forced herself to stand still. “No food on me,” she murmured.