“What?”
“The woman you hope is a good guy,” Pasco said. “How hot is she?”
“I didn’t...That’s not...” Not what this was about? Wasn’t it? “She left me with the dog and instructions to protect him until I can hand him back to her later today. I’m open to the possibility that she’s not on the up and up, although my well-honed instincts tell me I can trust her.”
“Buddy, a hard-on is a totally different kind of instinct. And that meeting later today could be a trap. Specifically, a honey trap.”
I scowled. Yes, I’d thought about that term myself, but I’d also dismissed the idea. Mostly. “Can you stay focused on the search, please?”
“I’m multi-tasking. Huh. No current activity anywhere inthe vicinity, but a dog-fighting ring was broken up a couple of years ago, about 20 miles from here.”
I knelt beside Spike and petted his head. “Any of those assholes escape justice, negotiate a sweetheart deal, get let out on parole?”
“No to all of the above. But you know, there are other ways bad guys use dogs, if that’s what’s going on.”
“I know.” Further proof the soft-hearted blonde was a good guy because I couldn’t picture her doing any of those things.
“What time are you handing over the dog?” Pasco asked.
“Five fifteen. There are no security cameras on that end of the park, so I’ll be going in a little blind”
“No, you’ll be going in totally blind. You need boots on the ground. Have you called Hayes or Wheeler?”
We had two tactical operatives on our Special Forces HEAT team, Ryan Wheeler and Ben Hayes. “Wheeler is taking parachute recertification this weekend, so I’m on my way to Hayes’s place now.”
I unhooked Spike’s leash from the makeshift dog run and patted my leg to make him heel.
“Or,” Pasco backed up to where I’d stopped him, “you could start with your partner, who doesn’t have a personal life as far as I can tell. Unlike Hayes, who’s a newlywed with a pregnant wife.”
Logan Lang was my counterpart on our two-man logistics unit. Our role was typically behind the scenes, unless and until things went to shit and we needed to jump in to extract our tactical team or clean up what was left of bad guys. But we were cross-trained to be “in the field,” which was just a nice way of saying staring down enemy agents or scary criminals. And Lang was good enough to fill damn near any role within HEAT.
He was also one prickly son of a bitch and since I had to work with the guy on the daily, I preferred to stay on his good side.
“Nah,” I said. “If Hayes isn’t available, I’ll figure out something else.”
“Like hell you will. You need to contact the boss and bring her up to speed.”
Since my truck bed was full of building supplies, I lifted Spike into the back seat of my Prius and closed the door. “Pasco, I?—”
“Come on, man. Donotmake me be that guy. Forcing me to be a snitch will wreak havoc on my reputation. And you getting honey-trapped to death when I could have prevented it will possibly get me demoted. Probably not, because I’m that damn good, but possibly.”
“You’re all heart.” I climbed into the driver’s seat and started the car. “Okay. I promise I’ll go to Kat if it comes to that, but only as a last resort.”
An hour and a half later,I was standing outside my boss’s door, holding Spike’s leash as he sat quietly beside me like the very good boy he was. As Pasco had warned me, Hayes had been blissfully up to his ass in family obligations. And the minute I’d left Hayes’s condo, Pasco had called to remind me of my promise to loop in our boss, so here I was.
I wasn’t really mad about it. Despite what I’d said earlier, Kat Hartmann was hardly the choice of last resort. She’d been one of the agency’s best field operatives for over a decade before she’d been put in charge of our team.
At the moment, the chameleonic spy was doing her best imitation of a harried mom. Or more precisely, anoverwhelmed aunt. Her niece, an adorable blonde-haired twenty-month-old, was propped on her hip. A flowered bag was slung across her chest, and a backpack was strapped over her shoulders. She’d opened the door before I could knock and stood clutching her keys in her hand. I’d caught her on her way out, and she was in one hell of a hurry.
“Rogers, what’s wrong?” She glanced at my companion. “And when did you adopt a dog?”
“Dog sitting for a friend,” I said. “But I do need to talk to you about it.”
“You’ll have to talk fast. We’re on our way to the vet.”
She swiveled so I could get a good look at her backpack, which was actually a cat carrier with a plastic bubble in the front. Her large, gray cat smooshed his nose to the bubble as he stared down at the dog, then yowled and hissed.
Kat pivoted so he was facing away from us. “Calm down, Mr. Whiskerbottom Fuzzypants. A dog is the least of your problems right now.” She pulled the front door closed. “Gage and our nephew left ten minutes ago to go to the grocery store. Apparently, toddlers can eat their body weight in chicken nuggets in a day, and we were underprepared. Right after they left, Emma noticed a ribbon trailing out of Mr. Fuzzy’s butt, which means he ate it, and we don’t know how much. I called Gage, who said I should take him to the vet. He’ll meet us there.”
