It’s true I had zero experience with this sort of thing, but the competence practically vibrated off him. If I had to depict a real-life hero, I would describe the man who had just come to my rescue. And for the first time since Ally and I had set this long-shot mission in motion, I believed it really was going to work. We were actually going to save this poor, abused pup. And I might even avoid jail time.
“It’s okay,” my hero said as he stepped an inch closer to me, making me aware of how tall and broad he was, and allowing me to catch the light, fresh scent of him.
Everything about him made me feel safe. He clicked a fob and ahead of us the lights blinked on a double-cabbed black pick-up truck with building supplies in the bed.
“We’re almost there,” he said. “I’ve got you. Everything’s going to be fine.”
I was committing a crime, clutching a near-death dog to my chest, and following a complete stranger to his vehicle. But when he said everything would be fine, I believed him.
2
KYLE
Everything’s going to be fine?What the hell had possessed me to say that? I had just stepped into God knows what, possibly even a trap.
If so, it was a honey trap, and one set up especially for me. Because the woman I was helping into the back seat of my pick-up wassomy type. Or one of my types. Maybe I don’t have an anti-type. Still, petite but with long legs shown off by her pink tennis skirt, blonde hair falling just below her shoulders, and wide blue—albeit hella worried—eyes rang a very particular kind of bell for me.
That’s probably why I didn’t question it when she sat on the floor with the dog instead of sitting on seat. And why I climbed into the truck with her without patting her down for a weapon. I did reach under my seat and pull out my stun gun, which I placed beside me on my seat, within easy reach of my dominant left hand. I’m not a complete idiot, even when sex hormones swamp my brain. I have years of Army Ranger training and my two-year, post-Army stint with the covert agency HEAT to thank for that.
“We probably should get out of here fast,” she whispered, as if she worried we’d be overheard.
I had no doubt she was up to something shady, and I’d just aided and abetted whatever it was, so I hoped at least it wasn’t a felony. My boss, and her boss who ran the agency, would not like having to bail me out from the feds. But the woman who shifted around in my back seat as she spoke in a sing-song voice to the downtrodden dog didn’t strike me as a criminal mastermind, a honey trap, or any kind of enemy agent. The Army and HEAT had honed those instincts as well, so when she told me we might be followed, I didn’t ask questions. Instead, I did what I do best.
I was a logistician. I knew how to move people, supplies, weapons, and whatever else needed to be moved. How to drop soldiers and agents behind enemy lines and more importantly, how the hell to bring them back, even if things went horribly pear-shaped. In this case, I hadn’t had time to draw up an extraction plan, secure at least two exit options, and put back-up in place, but I was beginning to know my new town pretty well. I could formulate a plan on the fly.
“Are we headed anywhere in particular?” I asked as I backed out of my parking space.
“The Thirsty Horse,” she answered. “It’s a bookstore with a bar and?—”
“A coffee shop,” I finished. “I know the place.” Not that I hung out there. When I wanted to drink coffee and shoot the shit or grab a drink after a long day, I did so with my teammates at HEAT HQ, in our secure building on the north end of town.
The good news was we weren’t being followed. The bad news was someone was looking for the lady, or the dog, or both of them. As I turned the truck onto the main road, Iglanced in the rearview mirror and spotted a pissed looking guy and two smocked workers on the sidewalk outside the pet store. I was about to ask my back-floor passenger for clarifying details about the man, the dog, and what the hell we were doing, when I looked over my shoulder and saw her drawing liquid into a syringe. I slid my fingers over the stun gun.
“A sedative,” she answered without me asking. “After this, I’ll administer an antibiotic. I also have a dog bowl and a can of food. Do you mind if?—”
“Poor thing looks like he hasn’t had a meal in ages,” I said. “By all means, please feed him.”
I stopped at a red light and glanced back at her again. The syringe was empty and capped. I moved my hand away from my weapon. Her gaze met mine and her lips turned up at the edges. I smiled in response. I couldn’t help it. She was beautiful. Intense. Brave as hell if she’d done what I suspected and rescued the dog from his abuser. And sweet. The soothing way she spoke to the scared animal stirred something deep in my heart.
I broke our eye lock, checked my mirrors, and refocused on the road.
“It’s a calming sedative,” she was saying, although I wasn’t sure whether she was telling me or the dog. “That’s enough food for now, so only water and potty breaks for the rest of the afternoon.”
Obviously, she was speaking to the dog in that sweet voice of hers to keep him calm, because I didn’t need to know the details of his feeding schedule.
“The Thirsty Horse is coming up in a minute,” I said, and instantly regretted it. Arriving at her destination meant letting her go. I was sure she wasn’t an enemy, but I hadn’teven asked her name. “We didn’t get a chance to introduce ourselves. I’m?—”
“No names,” she said. “Isn’t that the protocol?”
The word protocol shot a chill up my spine. Sure, spies and security specialists weren’t the only ones who said that, but the no-names statement added an ominous tone to it. I pulled up to the curb and turned toward her, my fingers once again resting on the cold metal of my weapon.
“Is there a vet on call to look at the dog tonight?” she asked.
It took a few seconds for my Army-trained brain to realize she meant a veterinarian. I shook my head, now truly lost in the conversation.
“Then I’ll need to do it. We’ll need to arrange another hand-off.”
Shit, we were skating dangerously close to spy-speak again. My fingers curled around the stun-gun hilt. “The hand-off.”
