Her hand went to the pocket of her capri pants, looking for her cell phone to check the time, and came up empty. “Where the hell did I put that thing now?” She was always putting it down somewhere in the house and then losing it. More than once a week, she’d have to grab the cordless house phone in the kitchen and call the cell number to find it.
Before she could go looking for it, the sound of a car pulling up to the curb in front of the house caught both Chet’s and Meat’s attention. Dropping his bone, he stood and barked several times.
“Ruhig, Meat. It’s probably just your grandma. She’s a little nervous around big dogs, but if you make a good first impression, she’s gonna spoil you rotten.”
As if he’d completely understood her, beyond the command to be quiet, the dog sat down, his tail wagging furiously, and lifted a paw in the air. Chet chuckled. “Yes, that will do perfectly.” She rolled her eyes as she walked toward the front door, with him plodding behind her. “Jeez, I sound like Tuff having conversations with you.”
When she’d teased Tuff about chatting with the dog a few weeks ago, he’d pointed out that she did it too, though she’d never really realized it before. Now, she noticed it all the time. Well, Meat was easy to talk to, and there were times like this that Chet honestly thought the dog knew exactly what she was saying.
Before she opened the door, she gave him the commands to sit and stay, then praised him when he followed them. While he was still a work in progress, he’d come a long way since she’d first rescued him.
Stepping out onto the front porch, she smiled when she saw her mother getting out of a rental car. After closing the door to keep Meat in the house, Chet hurried down the steps. “Mom!”
Not waiting for the older woman to shut the driver’s door, Chet threw her arms around her and hugged her tightly. Tears came to her eyes. It’d been almost a year since they’d been together, and it hit her how much she’d missed seeing her mother in the flesh instead of just talking to her on the phone several times a week.
“Concetta, baby. Oh, I missed you so much!” Her mother was reluctant to release her as well. They stood there in each other’s arms for a minute or two. Chet had always had a very close relationship with her mother, despite living several states away.
After a few more moments, Chet patted her mom’s back and pulled away. “I’m so glad you’re finally here. I’ve planned a whole bunch of things for us to do this week, but for now, let’s get your stuff inside. I’ll introduce you to Meat. He’s waiting patiently inside like a good boy. Don’t forget, he’s a pit bull and has some battle scars.”
“So ugly he’s cute?” her mother asked with a laugh as she opened the rear driver’s side door of the sedan. Chet snorted, knowing the question wasn’t meant to be cruel. It was a response she’d given her younger sister many times when Chet had brought home all sorts of stray animals, many of them worse for wear, when Mia called them ugly creatures. Even as a child, Chet had done what she could to rehab strays and find them good homes, which hadn’t always been easy. To keep from having their house overrun by wayward animals of all shapes and sizes, her parents had given Chet permission to volunteer at the local animal shelter at the age of twelve. That way she had a place where she could bring her rescues for medical treatment and baths before helping them find forever homes.
Nudging her mother out of the way, Chet reached into the back seat and grabbed a bag from a bakery. “Mmm. There better be some black and white cookies in here.”
Instead of answering her, Chet’s mother gasped in alarm, causing her to spin around. She froze. Pointing a very ugly black gun at Chet was Jose Martinez. She’d recognize him anywhere. She’d been there when he’d been arrested during the raid, then had seen him at his arraignment the next morning after she’d worked with the detectives to draw up the correct charges for the judge and ADA.
“Scream and I’ll shoot the old bitch,” he said with a sneer.
Despite her fear, Mariana Suarez’s back straightened in response to the insult, but, wisely, she didn’t say a word. Inwardly, Chet cursed herself. Her gun was in her dresser drawer. Unlike the officers on patrol and the detectives, she’d never felt a need to carry her weapon 24/7. There were times she did take it with her in her purse when she went out, but that usually depended on where she was going and what time of the day or night it was. Right now, she was regretting not having it strapped to her hip, although, with her hands full, it was doubtful she could drop everything and draw her gun before Martinez fired off enough shots to kill them both.
“What do you want?” She knew the answer but figured she’d ask anyway.
“You’ve got something of mine I want back.”
She tried to play dumb. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Unfortunately, Meat picked that moment to get impatient for Chet’s return and started barking inside the house. Martinez smirked. “Sure you don’t.” He gestured up the driveway with the revolver. “Inside. Let’s go.” They both hesitated, and Chet glanced around, hoping a neighbor would see what was going on and call the police. But no one was in sight, and Martinez growled. “Now! Move it.”
Leaving her mother’s carry-on in the car, Chet put herself between her mother and Martinez as the three of them marched up the driveway. Something wasn’t right. It hadn’t occurred to her before, but why the hell was Martinez trying to recover the dogs they’d seized? It didn’t make sense. With all the freaking puppy mills out there and people failing to neuter or spay their dogs, it wouldn’t be too difficult for the fighting ring to replenish their dogs—a fact Chet hated but wasn’t naïve about. It might take them a few months to train the dogs to attack one another, but with the pending charges against him, Martinez would be stupid to arrange fights when getting caught again would basically ensure a long prison sentence. Why was he risking everything to recover a few dogs?
Trudging up the steps behind her mother, Chet tried to figure out how the hell they could get out of this. The last thing she wanted to do was hand over Meat to this bastard, but she couldn’t risk her mother’s life. Inside, the dog’s curious barking had turned aggressive. Chet had seen him on the couch, looking out the front window. He must have recognized Martinez and reacted. She wondered if Meat would attack him and wished she’d taught him the German word to do so. But would Martinez shoot the dog if he lunged at him? There were too many variables for what was going to happen in the next few minutes.
Her mother reached for the doorknob but stopped when Chet grabbed her shoulder. “No, Mom. Let me go in first. He doesn’t know you.”
Pushing Chet to the side, Martinez pointed the gun at her mother’s head. “Go in first. If he tries to attack me, I’ll shoot her. Do what you have to so I can get near him.”
Again, Chet got the feeling something was off. It sounded like he wanted Meat for something other than just for his fighting skills. Opening the bakery bag she was still holding, Chet took out two large black-and-white cookies. So much for Meat’s organic diet. Hopefully, she could distract him with the food so she could get his leash on him. She didn’t know if she was going to be able to control him. It sounded like he was scratching and bouncing off the other side of the door. She’d have to block him somehow and hope he didn’t bite her in his frenzy. If it was just her in danger, she’d let his furry ass out the door at the same time she swung around and smacked Martinez in the head with the bag as a distraction. Meat would tear the scumbag limb from limb, and Chet would let him. But again, she couldn’t risk her mother being shot.
Turning the knob, she pushed the door open a crack and blocked the dog’s exit. He was barking and trying to get past her. Chet dropped her hand in front of his face, hoping he’d get distracted by the food, but the dog ignored the offering. Dropping the cookies, Chet grabbed his collar and tried to shove him back into the house. “Meat! Ruhig! Fuss!”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“Quiet and heel,” Chet responded as she tried to hau
l Meat back into the foyer. She grabbed his leash from the table just inside the door, and after wrestling with the pissed off dog for a moment, she finally got it on him, but he continued to bark and lunge, saliva dripping from his mouth. It was clear he was attempting to get past Chet and her mother to the threat but didn’t want to hurt them. She jerked on the leash as she’d done during his training. “Ruhig, Meat! Fuss!” He didn’t ease up, and she loudly repeated the commands. This time the words seemed to get through to him. He was still growling, but the barking and lunging had eased.
Martinez shoved Chet’s mother into the foyer, then closed the door behind him. From his back pocket, he pulled out a black item and tossed it to Chet. “Put it on him.”
It was a nylon muzzle. Shit. Meat wasn’t going to like this at all. He’d freaked at the vet’s when she tried to put one on him. He’d been calmer without it, and after several attempts, the vet had suggested they go slowly and see how it went. Chet had been able to scratch his ears and soothe him while they’d given him a shot to mellow him out before putting him under for the surgery to remove his abscess.
Chet swallowed hard. She had no idea what was going to happen next, but whatever it was, it probably wasn’t going to be good. She eyed the keypad next to the door. There was a panic button on it if she could just get close enough. She’d forgotten all about it while trying to control Meat. That would’ve been the perfect time to hit it. Martinez wouldn’t have known she’d done it because the alarm only went off at the monitoring center. Somehow, she was going to have to try and get close to that panel or the one in her bedroom. How she was going to pull that off was the big question. Damn it.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The moment Tuff turned into the cul-de-sac, he slammed on the brakes. Just past the third driveway on the right, in front of his and Chet’s house, was a tan sedan with the rear, driver’s side door wide open. No one was in sight. Pulling over, he threw the SUV into park and climbed out. Boots met him at the back of the vehicle as Chase and Irv exited the Suburban and joined them.
“What’s up?” Irv asked as Tuff unholstered the 9mm at the small of his back and double checked that it was locked and loaded.
“The car in front of the house, its back door is wide open. Looks like a rental. Chet’s mom is probably here, but don’t see either of them.”
Irv stepped to the left a few feet to eye the sedan up the street. “Could be coming back out for luggage or something.”
“Or they could be in trouble. You want to wait to find out? Because I sure as fuck don’t.”
“Just playing devil’s advocate. If the tango’s here, he could’ve parked somewhere nearby and walked over. Think he’d be alone?”
“I have no fucking idea, but I’ll take every one of them out if they touch a hair on her head.” He pivoted toward his house. He had to get to the house and find out what was going on. He prayed to God he was misreading everything. “Let’s go.”
“Tuff,” Chase said, stopping him in his tracks as the three other men all pulled out their weapons. The boss handed everyone a comms earpiece he must have grabbed from a go-bag in Irv’s truck. “Take it easy. If this is what you think it is, shut that shit down. It’s just another op.”
His jaw tightened. This wasn’t just another op. This was the woman he loved. Chase stepped toward him. “I get it . . . I do. But you know as well as I do you’ve got to keep your head on straight right now. Things will go to shit if you don’t. Got me?” Knowing his boss was right, Tuff nodded. “Good. Now, let’s go get your girl. Hopefully, we’ll be laughing about this being a big mistake in a few minutes.”
Tuff would have given anything to be the brunt of a few jokes when they found Chet and her mother had simply left the car door open by mistake and hadn’t heard her cell phone ringing nonstop for the past ten minutes.
As the cohesive unit the four men knew how to be, having been on many missions together, they stealthily approached the house. Boots and Irv headed around the back of Tuff’s unit, while he and Chase headed for the front steps. Inside the house, Meat began barking, and Tuff knew without a doubt it was in aggression instead of his “I’m having fun, throw the ball again” or “I’ve gotta pee” barks.
He glanced at Chase and signaled they should scale Tuff’s side of the porch instead of taking the stairs because they might be spotted through Chet’s living-room window. His boss nodded and covered Tuff as he tucked his weapon in its holster at his lower back, then grabbed hold of the banister and hauled himself up and over. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he had his gun back in his hand and aimed at Chet’s front door, while Chase vaulted over the bannister to join him. They inched over to the large plate-glass window, until Tuff could peer into Chet’s living room. It was a kick to his gut. Martinez was holding a gun on an older woman, who had to be Mrs. Suarez. Detective Webb had provided Tuff with the suspect’s mug shots out of professional courtesy. It paid to have connections.
Tuff watched Chet trying to get a muzzle on Meat, who was not cooperating. She was having trouble keeping him under control while attempting to slide the device over his nose and mouth. But Meat was intent on getting to Martinez, and by the way he was growling and barking, he’d probably rip the guy apart. Tuff was more than willing to give the dog the opportunity, as long as Chet and her mother didn’t get hurt in the process.
Turning his head, he gave Chase a few hand signals to indicate there was one tango with a pistol and two hostages. Chase held up his non-gun hand and showed him the text he’d sent to Gordo back at headquarters, telling her to call the cops and have them respond fast without lights or sirens. The last thing they needed was to alert Martinez he no longer had a way out.
Irv’s voice came through their earpieces in a barely-audible whisper. “Boss, Tuff, backdoor’s unlocked. We can enter on your signal.”
“One tango with a handgun, two hostages, and a pissed off pit bull,” Tuff replied, just as quietly. “He knows the German commands, in case he turns on you. Try not to shoot him.” None of them wanted to harm the dog, but they all knew Meat could be in such a frenzy he wouldn’t obey the commands. He could do some serious damage if he locked his jaw around one of their arms or legs—or even worse, he could lose control and go after Chet or her mother.
Tuff checked the status of the hostages one more time—Chet had somehow managed to get the muzzle over Meat’s mouth and nose and was trying to secure the straps behind his ears without letting go of the leash. Squatting, Tuff crab-crawled under the window to the door and stood again. Chase was right behind him. Once they were in position on either side of the door frame, Tuff grabbed the doorknob and gently turned, praying it wasn’t locked. He let out a sigh of relief when it rotated a fraction, then nodded at Chase. Readying his weapon, the boss whispered into his comm unit, “On three.”
“Hurry the fuck up!”
Meat was squirming too much, making it difficult to connect the straps behind his big head. Rage had replaced most of the fear in Chet’s body—probably fueled by the frustration of trying to get the muzzle on Meat while keeping him from lunging across the room. As she’d struggled with him, they’d slowly moved into the living room with Martinez and her mother following. Their backs were to the big window overlooking the street. Chet hadn’t seen anyone walk or drive by, and she had no way of knowing if any of her neighbors had noticed the still open car door and thought it was strange enough to call the cops. Most likely not.
She glared at Martinez, still pointing the gun at her mother. “I’m trying, asshole! It’s not as easy as you seem to think it is. You want to give it a fucking try?” She’d apologize to her mother later for cursing like a sailor.
“Just get it done!”
Before Chet’s gaze returned to what she was doing, she could have sworn she saw a shadow move outside the window. It was probably her imagination, but a kernel of hope stirred within her. Not wanting to draw attention to the window if someone really was out there, Chet went back to securing
the muzzle. When the clasps snapped together, she finally sighed, but relief was short-lived. Now what happens?
Meat was still growling and lunging, but he could no longer do any damage. And that wasn’t exactly a good thing, Chet looked at Martinez. “Now what?”
He pushed her mother into a nearby recliner. “Stay there.” The gun was now pointed at Chet. “Get him to lay down on his left side.”
Her eyes narrowed in confusion, but she did as she was told. “Meat, platz!” She tugged on the collar and tried to get the resisting dog to lay down. “Come on, Meat. Platz!”
It took two more attempts before he finally obeyed her command. Once he was down on his belly, tension rolling off him, she nudged him onto his left side. He was panting heavily, his chest rising and falling, as he continued to let out a few growls. Chet looked up at Martinez. “Okay, he’s down. Now what?” She really had to stop asking that question because she really didn’t want to know what was coming next.
Martinez pulled something from his back pocket and slowly moved toward them. Chet stared at the device. It looked like the microchip scanners she used at work to see if rescued strays had registered chips under their skin to identify their owners. But she didn’t understand why this asshole was using one. “What are you doing? We scanned them for chips after the raid, on all the different frequencies.” The individual companies that made the chips wanted to ensure their scanners had to be purchased to read their products. There were no universal devices, although some could scan several frequencies but not all of them.
“You scanned them for ID chips, not what I’m looking for.” He made a wide circle around the back of Meat, toward his tail, as Chet kept petting the dog, and using her upper body to keep him from lifting his head and getting to his feet.
Tuff Enough Page 13
