Page 23 of Armed ’N’ Ready

Shit. Bad choice of words. He’d let her get to him, and he seriously needed to slam the brakes on that before it happened again. When she’d given him a verbal smackdown about his job, he’d goaded her right back about the boyfriend thing. It had been unprofessional, and he prided himself on his professionalism. He had to be more careful. Especially given what he was about to dump on her head.

He looked at the outside of the café and was impressed with the changes. Once-moldy gray stain had been replaced by fresh yellow paint and white trim around the windows and doors. A hand-painted sign in flowing black script hung over the entrance. About a hundred yards north of the restaurant was a small Colonial in the same colors that he assumed was Andi’s house.

Several dogs were in the run, including an Australian sheepdog, a mixed breed that looked like the one at Myer’s house yesterday, and a big Bouvier des Flandres. At nearly ninety pounds and with a long gray coat, thick beard, mustache, and eyebrows, the Bouvier was a dog no one would forget. Leaning against the railing were a woman about Andi’s height but with dark brown hair, and a man a few inches taller. The two had their heads together as they watched the dogs.

Another man leashed up the Aussie and led the dog outside the run to a dark green Porsche on the far side of the lot. Nick immediately recognized him. Paul Nelson—chief of the Springfield PD. As the Porsche drove off, he tapped his fingers on the wheel. What’s the chief of police doing here on a Wednesday morning?

Most department chiefs worked a day shift, Monday through Friday. He could have taken a day off, but that wasn’t what Nick found most odd. He happened to know that Chief Nelson lived an hour from Wilbraham, making this one heck of a long drive just to run his dog. Then again…maybe not so long with all those expensive horses under the hood.

Saxon craned his head over the console, uttering a series of whines as he caught sight of the other dogs through the windshield.

Nick shifted on the seat, laughing at the excitement brimming in Saxon’s eyes. Playing with other dogs was a rare treat for a K-9. “Ready to go undercover, buddy?” Woof. “Make nice with the other dogs while I go to work. At least they don’t know you’re a cop.” But Andi would know.

Before responding to the break-in yesterday, he and Cox had decided not to overwhelm her with Nick’s operational plan. Even though they held all the cards, the woman had been through enough for one day. If they pushed too hard and too fast, they risked her refusing to cooperate. Still, he’d bet a week patrolling on foot that she’d hit the roof when he told her how this would go down.

Saxon gave a high-pitched bark, prancing in place, a sign of impatience Nick understood all too well.

“We got this, pal.” Whether Andi likes it or not.

He shut off the engine, then got out and opened up the door behind him. Saxon obediently waited for him to hook the six-foot leather leash onto the dog’s civilian collar. A second later Saxon leaped from the truck.

“Fuss,” he commanded, and Saxon glued himself to Nick’s left side, glancing up at him occasionally as they made their way down the slight incline to the dog run. Given how well-trained Saxon was, the leash hadn’t really been necessary. He only used it to make others feel comfortable with his dog’s size and presence.

As they got closer, the other dogs ran over to greet the newcomer, tails in the air, ears alert. Like people, dogs sized up their kind to determine who would be the dominant one.

From his position at the gate, he had a better view of the raised wood deck that ran end-to-end along the backside of the restaurant. Though it was only ten a.m., several tables were already occupied by customers.

A bead of sweat trickled between his shoulder blades. The sweltering temps didn’t seem to bother the dogs, although with Saxon’s pure black coat, he’d have to keep his dog hydrated more than usual. Funny how he would always think of Saxon as “his dog” when in fiscal reality, he was the property of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts and worth nearly twenty grand.

After letting Saxon into the run, he secured the inner and outer gates, then leaned his forearms on the top rail, watching to make sure everyone got along.

Saxon bounded into the circle of dogs, then stood at full attention, looking like the king of his domain, barely moving except for a stiff tail wag. The other dogs circled and sniffed. His K-9 was unusual in that he was definitely an alpha but able to get along with other dogs without asserting aggressive dominance. Like any human confident in who and what he was, Saxon didn’t feel the need to throw his weight around. Unless he was working. Then, he was positively fearsome and would make even the biggest, meanest badass think twice before getting anywhere near those snapping jaws.

He watched a few minutes longer, then made his way up the stairs to the deck and sat at a shade-covered table that gave him a good view not only of the dog run but also the small lake off to the side of the property.

Several laminated menus were propped in a wire holder in the center of the table. He grabbed one and began checking out the sandwiches. Within a minute, his stomach was growling from the mouth-watering list of paninis on freshly baked ciabatta and loaded with locally cured meats and cheeses.

A sharp bark had him scanning the dog run to find the pretty mixed breed flirting with Saxon, pirouetting and getting in an occasional nip on his flanks. Looked like she didn’t hold a grudge against his dog after having her bath interrupted yesterday.

Saxon raised his head high and strutted slowly, deliberately around the female in a show-dog pose meant to advertise his assets. When the two dogs went nose-to-nose, Nick laughed. Even in the dog world, the signals between opposite sexes were the same as for humans. Unlike the dogs, he didn’t think Andi would be so quick to forget their encounter.

This was a quasi-undercover plan he’d concocted. Technically, Eric was better suited for the job, having worked a lot of UC gigs for the ATF down south before transferring to the northeast. His friend had gone to a lengthy undercover school at the Federal Law Enforcement Training Center, whereas Nick had no such training—unless he counted high school plays and college musicals. But he wanted this gig and wanted it badly. He had a score to settle with this gun dealer, and no way would he pass this job off to anyone else.

He adjusted his chair and found Saxon and the golden-brown female lying a few feet from each other beneath one of several large shade trees, panting but seemingly content. Nick glimpsed Andi coming through the screen door carrying a tray loaded with silverware.

Her blond hair was loose, hanging halfway down her back. Some of the golden strands curled softly at her temples. She headed to the opposite side of the deck from where he was sitting, greeting most customers by name. Smart. No better way to get repeat customers than to make them feel welcome. He watched the easy way she interacted with patrons and staff, pausing to chat briefly at each table.

When she got to a table where a young couple was attending to a baby perched in a high chair, she set down the tray, and a beautiful smile lit her face. She stroked the back of the baby’s head with such gentle tenderness Nick couldn’t take his eyes off her.

She went on to finish setting a table at the far end of the deck, then paused to look into the dog run. Her profile was to him, and he could see a smile forming on her lips, but it was short-lived. Slowly, she turned, searching the tables she hadn’t gotten to yet, and he understood what she was looking for. Him. Dogs like Saxon were distinctive in size and color. There was only one of him within at least a several-hundred-mile radius, and wherever Saxon was, Nick was.

When she finally found him, her eyes narrowed to slits and her lips compressed into a thin line. With the tray still in her hand, she took a deep breath and headed straight to his table with long, determined strides.

So much for their little truce yesterday afternoon. She had to know something was up.

“Good morning,” he said when she came to stand beside his outstretched legs. From the irritated gleam in her eyes, he thought she might dump the tray over his head.

She set it down, instead, and crossed her arms. “What are you doing here?”