“What? Oh, my God, what happened?” She was beyond being in shock. When Chet had started at Animal Control, Terry had been her training officer. They’d hit it off and become good friends, despite the man being twenty-three years her senior. Chet had attended his wedding seven months before he and his wife, Megan, had attended hers. It’d been a second marriage for Terry, having lost his first wife to a sudden brain aneurysm ten years earlier. He’d even become a grandfather a few months back.
Des and the detectives spent the next few minutes filling her in and asking some questions. It’d been a drive-by shooting when the couple had arrived home from a late night of dinner and dancing with a few friends. There were no witnesses—possibly a case of mistaken identity, a robbery gone wrong, or some sort of a road-rage incident where the suspect, or suspects, had followed them home, before opening fire as they exited their vehicle. Megan had been killed instantly, while Terry had been pronounced dead at the ER after the medics and hospital staff had done everything they could to save him.
Uncontrollable tears rolled down Chet’s cheeks as she grieved for her friend and mentor and his wife, while the detectives asked her a several questions. Were either of them having trouble with anyone? Do you know if they were experiencing financial or marital trouble? Were either of them estranged from their children? Was there any friction between the two combined families? Can you think of anyone who could have done this? Do you know if either one of them had a gambling, drinking, or drug problem? Do you know if Terry had any incidents on the job that may have followed him into his private life?
Her response to all was an emphatic “no.” Well, except that last one. More than once, every Animal Control Officer for Hillsborough County had been threatened after they’d taken abused and neglected animals from their cruel owners. Some had even shown up at the shelter, demanding the animals be returned to them, and TPD officers had needed to respond and intervene. After the detectives thanked her and said she could leave, before requesting Des bring in another employee to interview, her boss followed Chet out into the currently empty hallway. He pulled her into a comforting hug. “I’m so sorry, Chet. I know how close you and Terry were. I want you to take the rest of the day off and tomorrow too if you need it.”
When she shook her head, he continued. “That’s not a request; it’s an order. I’m going to be telling almost everyone that, while keeping just a skeleton crew here. I’ll stay too. The cops can handle most animal calls for the day. I’ll contact the courts and see if anything on the schedules can be postponed.
Chet wiped her tears and took a step back. “I don’t have any court cases today.”
“Good. Then take Meat home with you. If you need to talk, I’m here, okay?”
“Okay.” She glanced to the right and then the left, suddenly unsure of where she was and what she needed to do. She expected to see Terry strolling in through the door at the end of the hall that led to the parking lot, but he’d never do that again. Taking a deep breath, she nodded at Des. “Okay. I’ll go get Meat. You’ll call if you hear anything new?”
“I promise. Drive safely.”
Chet cringed inwardly. “Drive safely” was something Terry said to her almost every time they parted. The man had reminded her so much of her own father, and she would miss him just as much.
Chapter Nine
Squatting in the cool shade of his garage, Tuff wiped down his motorcycle with a clean rag after he changed the oil. It was a sweet, 1945 Indian Chief Civilian Model he’d lovingly restored to its original beauty after snagging it at an auction a few years ago. After he’d gotten it purring like a lion cub, he’d had a former SEAL teammate of the Trident Security Alpha Team, Curt Bannerman, design and apply the MIA-tribute paint job. The guy had been over the moon to work on the vintage bike since they didn’t come around too often. Tuff had wanted to honor all the men and women who’d fought for their country and gone missing in action. The US was doing their best to bring them all home, but with more than 80,000 American service members, whose bodies have been unaccounted for since the start of the twentieth century, many MIAs will never be found. Thousands were lost in the waters surrounding islands involved in war or conflict, such as Hawaii, the Solomon Islands, the Korean Peninsula, and the Philippines. More went missing in the middle of the vast oceans of the world, when either their planes or ships had gone down. Then there were those who’d disappeared and presumably died in foreign countries decades ago. At least some of those were slowly being discovered each year. Once found, their remains were returned to the US where they were properly buried with full-military honors.
Behind Tuff stood the 1994 Harley-Davidson Heritage Softail he also owned, that’d needed a little tinkering and TLC too when he’d first gotten it. For that paint job, he’d had Bannerman pay tribute to those who had lost their lives in Afghanistan and Iraq over the last fifteen plus years, some of whom he’d known personally.
Tuff had the morning off, since the detail he and three teammates were assigned to didn’t start until 3:00 p.m. That had left too much time for his mind to wander to last night. It had taken everything in him not to lean in and kiss Chet goodnight before he left. Each minute he spent in her lovely presence was another spot where she’d been imprinted on his heart. Despite all his reasons for telling her it was best they remain just friends, he wanted her more than any other woman he’d ever met. He tried convincing himself he shouldn’t want her—it was in everybody’s best interest that he didn’t—but that made him crave her even more.
“Hey, Tuff!”
“Hi, Tuff!”
He glanced up and waved at two of the neighborhood boys riding their bikes past his driveway. With towels around their necks and board shorts and T-shirts on, it was a safe bet the thirteen-year olds were heading to their friend’s house two blocks away to spend the day in his pool. They alternated hanging out at each other’s houses, and sometimes Tuff joined them, and a few of the older kids in the middle of the cul-de-sac to throw a baseball or football around or shoot some hoops at the backboard that stood at the end of one of the driveways.
Grabbing a nearby bottle of water, he took a long, cool drink. The temperature was already in the low nineties, and it was barely 9:30 in the morning. Having done numerous tours in deserts on the other side of the world, the heat and humidity of Florida didn’t bother Tuff until it was well over one-hundred degrees, which it was forecast to reach tomorrow. Thank God for air conditioning.
Ten minutes later, he’d just finished putting everything back where it belonged and was surprised to see Chet’s department-issued SUV pull into the driveway. Giving his hands a final wipe of the towel, he strolled out to see her. When she climbed out of the vehicle, still in her uniform, and he saw her swollen, red eyes and tear-stained face, he threw the towel to the ground and rushed to her side. “Chet, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”
Rapidly shaking her head and pursing her lips, she opened the rear door and grabbed the end of Meat’s leash. “No—no I’m not. I—”
Her words were cut off by a heart wrenching sob, and Tuff stepped around the dog, who’d jumped to the ground, and pulled Chet into an embrace. It was then she completely lost it, bawling and trembling in his arms. Her hands went behind his back and clutched his sweaty T-shirt. At their feet, Meat whined and leaned against his mistress. Tuff held Chet tightly, stroking her hair. “Sh. Easy, baby. I’ve got you . . . I’ve got you.”
After a few moments, Chet tried to step back, but Tuff wouldn’t let her. Tucking her under one arm, he shut the SUV’s rear door, then walked her and Meat to the stairs and up to her front door, which he unlocked with his spare key. Once inside, he gently pushed her to sit on the couch. “Stay there a second. Let me get Meat some water.”
Grabbing the dog’s bowl in the kitchen, he filled it with water and placed it back on the floor. Panting, Meat padded in and made a beeline for it. Tuff then opened the fridge, snatched a bottle of water he knew Chet kept in there, and brought it out to
her. “Drink and then we’ll talk.”
After making sure she was hydrating herself, he hurried to the half bath in the hallway and returned with a box of tissues. He took out two and handed them to her, before sitting next to her and putting an arm around her shoulders. “What happened, baby?”
Through her tears, she told him about the homicide of her mentor and the man’s wife. It was evident she’d been close to the couple, and his heart broke for her. “I—I still can’t believe it. Th-they were the nicest people in the world! Why w-would someone do that—that to them?”
He wished he had an answer for her, but he knew all too well that bad things happened to good people and many times it never made sense to those left behind.
A half hour later, Chet was all cried out and crashing. Her eyes became heavy as she cuddled into his side, her head resting on his shoulder. Placing one hand under her knees and the other at her back, Tuff stood with her in his arms and strode toward her bedroom. The fact she didn’t protest worried him. Setting her in the middle of the queen-sized bed, he removed her work boots and pulled a blanket, which had been folded over the footboard, on top of her. Unable to leave her alone right away, he sat next to her on the bed and ran his hand up and down her arm, while Meat lay on the floor nearby.
Sleep hit Chet hard, and once Tuff was certain she was out, he eased himself up and quietly left the room, leaving the door ajar in case she woke up and needed him. Pacing the kitchen, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed the BHS office. When Chase’s receptionist answered, he said, “Hi, Shannon, it’s Tuff. Is Chase around?”
“Hi, Tuff. He’s on a conference call at the moment, but Irv is available. Do you want to talk to him instead?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“No problem. Hang on.”
After a few clicks, the deep voice of Blackhawk’s Senior Executive Officer came over the line. “Hey, Tuff. What’s up?”
He let out a heavy sigh. “Irv, I hate to do this, but is there any way you can swap me out on today’s detail?”
“Everything okay?”
There was no mistaking the surprise in the other man’s voice, but it was easy to figure out what he was thinking. Tuff couldn’t remember the last time he’d asked to be pulled from a detail unless it’d been doctor’s orders for an illness or injury. He also had a stockpile of personal and vacation days that he rarely used. If he did, they were always scheduled in advance.
“I’m good, but a friend really needs me.”
There was a long pause. “Okay. I’ll assign someone else. Is this just for today or do I have to move things around tomorrow too?”
Meat trotted into the kitchen and sat in front of him, looking up, pleadingly. Tuff grinned and shook his head. “I’m not sure yet. Can I get back to you in a bit?”
“Sure. Just make it as soon as you can, so I’m not scrambling at the last minute.”
“No problems, and thanks, Irv.”
“Yup.”
Disconnecting the call, Tuff stared down at the dog, who lifted his front leg. “Don’t give me that look or the paw. I know you get fed in the morning and again around 5:00. Just because your momma brought you home, doesn’t mean it’s dinner time, so don’t try to con me. But if you promise to watch Chet for a few minutes, while I run and shower, then I’ll give you a treat. Deal?”
“Woof.”
“Ruhig—not too loud. Now be good, and I’ll be right back.”
He left the front door unlocked, knowing the dog wouldn’t allow anyone else to enter, before stepping into his own unit. After a fast shower to wash the sweat and grease off his skin, he threw on a clean pair of cargo shorts, a T-shirt with the Blackhawk logo on it, and flip-flops. Next, he grabbed his laptop, so he had something to do while Chet slept, and then took out a bone for Meat from the freezer where he’d stored the extras he’d gotten the other day. But before he headed for the door, he returned to his bedroom and retrieved a holstered 9mm from the closet. He had several weapons stashed throughout the house, in case of trouble—which in his business was always a possibility. After holstering it and tucking it inside his back waistband, he returned to Chet’s place.
Meat growled softly when the front door opened but immediately quieted when he saw Tuff. The big lug’s tail thwacked against the hardwood floor in the hallway, just beyond the tiled foyer. “All quiet?”
With his head down, the dog stood and took a few steps toward Tuff who held the bone up. “Sitz.” When the dog sat, Tuff told him he was a good dog using the German words Chet had taught him. “Braver Hund.” He gave Meat his reward, and the dog gently took it from him. “There you go—you deserve it. Enjoy.”
As the pit bull laid down in the living room to snack on his bone, Tuff took a seat on the couch. His cell phone rang as he booted up his laptop. Glancing at the screen, he saw it was Blackhawk’s main number—probably Irv calling him back. “Hello?”
“Tuff,” Chase responded without preamble. “Talk to me.”
Knowing he should’ve expected a follow-up call from the owner of the security company, Tuff leaned back on the couch. “Hey, Chase. Sorry about the late call out, but a friend of mine lost someone to a homicide last night and just found out about it this morning.”
“Friend? Wouldn’t happen to be a woman, would it?”
His eyes narrowed. “Yeah, Chet’s a woman. She lives in the other half of my duplex.”
“Should have known,” his boss said with a chuckle. “I’m not letting any of my single guys work with Trident anymore. Those idiots drop like flies over there whenever a woman bats their eyes at them. Must be fucking contagious. Does this have anything to do with the vandalism the other night?”
That thought had crossed Tuff’s mind earlier, but he’d quickly dismissed it. He’d mentioned the incident the other night to Irv when he’d gotten the okay to swipe a few extra security cameras from the company stock. Having Chase bring it up again had him scratching his head. “I can’t make the connection if it does, but stranger things have happened. Can you find out the details of the homicide for me?”
“What’s the victim’s name?”
“It was a couple—Terry and Megan Spender. Drive by as they got out of their car at home late last night.”
“Saw that on the news earlier. How does your woman know them?”
Tuff got a funny feeling in his chest at his boss’s words that he didn’t want to analyze too deeply. Your woman. It’d felt good to hear Chet being referred to like that.
“Um, the guy trained her at Animal Control and has been a close friend for the past eight years or so. She was close with both of them.” He’d added that last part because he didn’t want Chase thinking Chet and Terry had been romantically involved or anything. Hell, Tuff didn’t want to think about her being romantically involved with anyone. He was so fucking screwed.
“All right. I’ll see what I can find out. In the meantime, stay alert and don’t fucking propose.”
Before a stunned Tuff could respond to the command said in jest, Chase had disconnected the call. Shaking his head, Tuff tossed the phone onto the couch next to him. While he’d been caught off guard, the thought of asking Chet to marry him didn’t sound as scary and ridiculous as it would have a few days ago.
Tuff looked at Meat who stopped gnawing on the bone and returned the stare while tilting his head. “She’s too good for me.”
The dog shook his head from side to side, his jowls and ears flopping away. Tuff snorted. “Is that a no, she’s not, or are you agreeing with me?”
“Rowf!”
“To hell with German. If we’re going to have a conversation, I gotta teach you to speak English.”
Chapter Ten
Chet woke up confused. She was dressed in her uniform, but her shoes were off, and she was lying in her bed. The sun was shining into her bedroom from the west, which meant it was late in the day. She glanced at the bedside clock and was stunned to see it was 5:37 p.m.
Her gut clenched as th
e horrible morning rushed back to her. She wished it had been nothing more than a bad dream but knew that wasn’t the case. Terry and Megan were dead. They’d dated for five years, living together for three, before they’d finally tied the knot, and Chet had spent many fun times at their house with their families and friends. Every year, the couple had a huge Fourth of July barbecue and a festive Christmas party the Saturday before the holiday. They would invite friends who had nowhere to go on the holidays to join them. There would be many people who were going to miss the gregarious couple.
She remembered driving home in tears and falling into Tuff’s arms, bawling hysterically. Yeah, that must have been attractive. Chet was an ugly crier. She vaguely recalled him carrying her to bed. He must have left after she fell asleep, although she couldn’t blame him. A lot of guys didn’t know how to deal with a crying woman.
Drawing the blanket off the lower half of her body, Chet rolled over and got to her feet. Her bladder was ready to burst. Once she was done in the bathroom, she changed out of her uniform and into a pair of cotton shorts and a T-shirt, minus her bra. She had marks where it’d dug into her flesh while she’d been sleeping.
Shuffling out of the bedroom, she hoped Meat hadn’t had any accidents in the house. While he’d been really good about that since the third day after she’d brought him home, Chet tried to keep him on a schedule of going for a walk every three hours from 7:00 a.m. to 9:00 p.m. She’d shut the bedroom door so he didn’t wander at night and also kept the toilet seat cover down so he couldn’t sneak a drink from the bowl.
Halfway down the hall, Chet froze. Not only was the smell of something delicious tempting her nose, but she could hear Tuff talking in the kitchen. And from the sound of it, he was having a conversation with her foster dog.
Tuff Enough Page 5
