With a wary eye on the dog, Martinez squatted next to Meat’s hind leg, then all hell broke loose. It sounded like the front and back doors exploded, causing everyone inside, including Meat, to jump. But the dog didn’t care who was coming in, he only wanted one target. He was on his feet in a flash and lunged at Martinez, who’d still been in a crouch. The dog knocked him over and went for his throat, the only thing saving the bastard from being ripped to pieces was the muzzle.
Growls and shouts filled the air as Chet dove for her mother, but the woman had already managed to get down on the floor on the other side of the recliner. A gun went off, and Chet froze for a moment before frantically scanning the room. She saw Tuff’s boss kick the gun out of Martinez’s hand as Tuff grabbed Meat by the collar. The dog was still trying to bite the threat, his frustration growing because he couldn’t. But the nails on his paws were doing some damage to Martinez’s face and chest as he struggled to get out from under the enraged beast. Martinez yelled, “Get him off me! Fuck! Get him off!”
“Meat! Fuss! Fuss! Come on, boy! You did good, now fuss!” Finally, Tuff’s voice and commands got through to the dog, and he let himself be pulled off his quarry by his leash.
“Chet, are you okay?” Tuff quickly led Meat over to where Chet was still on her knees on the floor, and she reached out to remove his muzzle. His lungs were still heaving, but his demeanor changed once his jaw and nose were freed. His tongue lolled out of his mouth, and his tail started wagging like crazy as she ran her hands over his head and body, searching for any wounds.
Tuff squatted down next to her and repeated his question, concern in his eyes as they roamed her face. He cupped her cheek, and she nodded. “Yes, I’m fine. He—he’s not hurt, is he? The gun went off.”
It was then she noticed there were two other men she didn’t know with Chase and Tuff. One had a moaning Martinez on his stomach with his hands cuffed behind his back. The other man, who’d picked up the asshole’s gun, nonchalantly used his finger to point at the ceiling almost directly above Chet. “The bullet went in up there. After the crime scene techs dig it out, a little spackle and paint and it’ll be good as new.”
Chet sighed in relief—not about the simple repair job but the fact that the bullet hadn’t hit anyone. “Braver Hund, Meat. Braver Hund.” She turned to her mother again. “Are you okay, Mom?”
She was surprised to see a smile spread across her mother’s face. “I’m fine, honey. In fact, I think I can tell my cardiologist I don’t need the routine stress test he scheduled at the end of the month. If I passed this one, then my ticker’s just fine.”
Chet and the rescuers chuckled as Tuff’s boss stepped around the recliner and held out his hand. “Let me help you up, Mrs. Suarez.”
She put her hand in his. “Thank you, young man.”
An amused grin appeared on Chase’s face as he helped Chet’s mom to her feet. It probably wasn’t often the forty-plus-year-old was called “young man.”
“Cops are here, Chase,” the taller of the other two men said as he gestured out the big window, then strode toward the front door. “I’ll let them know to stand down.”
Tuff helped Chet stand, then pulled her into his arms. Her head rested on his chest, and she heard his heart beating out of control—almost as fast as her own. Lifting her gaze to his, she realized he wasn’t as calm as he was trying to appear. “I’m okay, Tuff. I swear. How’d you know?”
He ran his hands up and down her back. “I got a call from Detective Webb, telling me this douchebag got out on bail. When you didn’t answer your phone, I got a bad feeling something was up. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, between the Army and Blackhawk, it’s to pay attention to bad vibes.”
“Hey, what’s this?” The man who’d handcuffed Martinez was holding up the scanner.
Chet stepped out of Tuff’s embrace and held out her hand for the device. “It’s a microchip scanner. That’s what he wanted. Meat apparently has a microchip in him that we didn’t find after the raid. They all work on different frequencies. This one isn’t a canine ID. He said it was something else.”
“Fucking bitch,” Martinez spat out.
Beside Chet, Tuff growled, then nodded at the other man. “Boots, do me a favor and haul his ass outside before I sic the dog on him—without the muzzle this time.”
Boots grinned. “I’d pay to see that, but he lucked out, the cavalry’s here. Keep a tight hold on Meat’s leash.”
Seconds later, several uniformed officers strode into the house. The next two hours were a whirlwind of activity. Tuff had insisted the paramedics be called to check out Chet and her mother, even though they’d assured him they were fine. Detectives showed up and began interviewing everyone, and the crime scene techs arrived moments later. With Chet’s help, they scanned the microchip in Meat’s hind leg. There were a bunch of numbers and code on it that would have to be analyzed by someone in the CSI unit. Unfortunately, for Meat, he now had another appointment with the vet, this time to remove the chip for evidence.
Finally, most of the house cleared out. Martinez had already been transported to central booking, the crime scene techs had processed everything, including retrieving the bullet from the ceiling, and the detectives had finished their interviews. Tuff would bring Chet and her mother down to the police station tomorrow morning to sign the official complaints. Adding kidnapping, attempted homicide—because his gun had discharged during a felony—and numerous other charges to his already pending ones concerning the fight club and drug possession, Martinez would be denied bail this time without a doubt.
Amid all the chaos, Chet’s mom had found the ingredients for sugar cookies in the pantry and had proceeded to make a few batches. Chet knew it was her way of dealing with what had happened and let her do her thing. The Keurig on the counter had gotten a workout as several people had taken Chet up on her offer for a cup of coffee. Now, the only people left sitting in the kitchen munching on the cookies were Chet, Mariana, Tuff, Chase, Irv, and Boots. Meat was lying on the floor under the table, gnawing on a new bone Tuff had asked his partner to retrieve from the refrigerator next door.
After swallowing the last of his coffee, Chase stood from the table and placed his empty cup in the dishwasher. “Mariana, thank you for the cookies. They were delicious. I’m sorry we had to meet this way, but it was a pleasure—aside from the guy pointing a gun at you, of course.”
Chet’s mother grinned. “Thank you, Chase. Since I’ll still be trying to work off this nervous energy, don’t be surprised if I show up at your offices tomorrow with more baked goods.”
He leaned down and placed a kiss on her cheek, causing the much older woman to blush. “They won’t go to waste, I promise you that.” He turned to Chet. “If you need anything, just let Tuff know and we’ll get it done. You did a great job, Chet—most people, men or women, wouldn’t have been able to stay as calm as you both did. As for Meat, he’s welcome to visit Blackhawk anytime if you want to use my staff as another socialization tool.”
“Thanks, Chase. And thank you all for coming to our rescue. I hate to think what would’ve happened if you hadn’t gotten here when you did.”
Irv put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “So do we. And no thanks necessary, Mariana. I hope the rest of your visit is smooth sailing.”
“From your mouth to God’s ear,” she replied. “Thank you, Lance. And you too, Blane.” Chet’s mother had insisted on calling all the men by their real first names, and none of them had asked her to do otherwise. She’d also told them to call her Mariana.
Chase squatted down and looked under the table. “Hier, Meat.” Chet’s eyebrows shot up when the dog stood and plodded over to the man, with his head down and tail wagging. Chase held his hand out, palm down, letting the dog sniff him. Meat dipped his nose and rubbed it against Chase’s hand, earning himself an ear scratch. “Braver Hund.”
Once Tuff’s boss and teammates left, Mariana stepped over to where he was leaning against the count
er and placed a hand on his crossed, tattooed forearms. “First, let me say thank you.” When he opened his mouth to respond, she shook her head. “Let me finish. This wasn’t how I expected to meet you, Jason, but I’ve been watching you for the past two hours. Your eyes have barely left Concetta for more than a few seconds, and you haven’t let her lift a finger.” He hadn’t, especially when he saw her hands start to shake when the adrenaline crash hit her. “I can still see your fear that she could have been badly hurt, but I also see how much you care about her. I don’t think I could’ve picked a better man to fall in love with my daughter. I don’t know if you’ve said those words to her yet, but there’s no mistaking that you love her, and she loves you. All a mother wants is for her children to be happy, and I think you two make each other very happy.” She patted his arms, then grinned. “Okay, now that I’m done being sappy, I think I’m going to go lay down in the spare bedroom for a bit. I haven’t had this much excitement in years. Why don’t we order pizza or something low-key and go out to dinner tomorrow night?”
From behind, Chet put her arms around her mother and hugged her. “That sounds great, Mom.”
“Sounds good to me too,” Tuff said before giving Mariana a kiss on the cheek. “And, by the way, I love your daughter very much.”
She winked at him. “I know you do.”
Moments later, Chet and Tuff found themselves alone for the first time since he’d left her bed that morning. He reached out, pulled her into his arms, and squeezed her tightly. As she returned the hug, she felt his body quiver. Lifting her head from his chest, she looked up into his face, shocked to see tears in his eyes. “What—”
He cut her off by cupping her jaw and kissing her. At first, he was gentle, as if he were reassuring himself she was still alive and in one piece. But when she parted her lips, his tongue swept into her mouth and the kiss took on a life of its own. Tuff clutched her hair, holding her in place as he devoured her. Chet was certain if her mother weren’t just down the hallway, Tuff would’ve had her completely naked and been balls deep within her already.
After a minute or two, Tuff slowed down and then ended the kiss. He picked his head up and stared down at her. “I could have lost you today. You have no idea how terrified I was when we pulled up and saw the car door open and no one around. I just knew you were in danger, and thought back to Kyle and Becca, and how she’d said she felt something bad had happened right around the time he was shot. As scared as I was, it didn’t feel like you were gone. I knew you needed me and were still alive. I was ready to move heaven and earth to make sure you stayed that way. I love you, baby.”
“I love you too. I didn’t know how, but I had this feeling you were coming to the rescue.”
At some point during Tuff’s speech, Meat had wandered over and was now pushing his nose between them. Tuff chuckled and petted the dog’s big head. “I love you too, Meatball. You’re gonna spend the rest of your furry life being spoiled rotten by me.”
“Woof!”
Chapter Twenty-Five
One week later . . .
Sitting on a chair in one of the smaller BHS conference rooms with Chase, Irv, and Detective Sonia Lovett, Tuff flipped through the thick transcripts of Martinez’s interrogation. Knowing they had him dead to rights on the kidnapping charges, he’d tried to make a deal with the Assistant District Attorney assigned to the case. While he’d admitted to stealing back the other two dogs and vandalizing Chet’s vehicle, Martinez denied having anything to do with Terry and Megan Spender’s shooting deaths. The ADA didn’t believe him, but Lovett and her partner, Webb, had both agreed with Tuff—the double homicides weren’t part of the dog fighting ring and whatever else Martinez and his cronies were up to.
The CSI techs had been working hard on the code on the microchip, but, so far, they’d been unsuccessful in cracking it. Martinez claimed he didn’t know how to decipher it either. Tuff thought that was a load of bull, though. Whatever was on there had to be big with all the subterfuge, which meant if Martinez gave up the information, he’d most likely be killed for being a rat.
“I don’t get it,” Tuff said. “Why didn’t he just shoot Meat and the other dogs, then cut out the microchips?”
Lovett leaned forward, crossing her arms on the table. “We don’t know. Martinez said he had to make sure the chip was there before taking the dog with him. He was told not to kill the dogs.”
“Who told him that?” Irv asked.
“He wouldn’t say.”
Tuff pushed the folder full of papers away from him. “Bastard doesn’t know much. Don’t tell me the ADA is going to make a deal with him. Martinez isn’t giving you anything of value.” When Lovett hesitated, Tuff muttered a curse. As far as he was concerned, ADA Rodney Murasaki was a waste of four years of law school. “Are you kidding me? What a fucking idiot. What, is he trying to get a rep for clearing cases?”
“Pretty much,” she responded. “Martinez is getting four-to-eight years.”
Chase tilted his head back and groaned. “Which means, if he’s a good little boy, he’ll be out in two.”
“Yup.” The detective stood and retrieved the file Tuff had been reading. “Don’t forget, you didn’t see this.” The only reason he had was because her partner owed Ian Sawyer a favor and he’d called in the marker. Now Tuff owed Sawyer, but that was fine with both of them.
All three men got to their feet, and Tuff shook hands with Lovett. “Thanks for bringing it by. Thank Webb for me too.”
“I will. His sorry ass is coming back to work tomorrow. Too bad, because I was enjoying the break from him.” Her grin said she was kidding. From what Tuff knew, the two detectives were one of the best teams in the bureau. “At least I let a bunch of paperwork pile up for him. He’ll be buried under it for a few days. See you around, gentlemen.”
After she left, Irv asked, “How are Chet and Mariana doing?”
“Good,” Tuff replied. “I meant to thank you both for making sure the press didn’t hear about it.” They both waved him off, not that he’d expected anything different from them, so he continued. “Mariana left for her sister-in-law’s yesterday. She’s heading home to Chicago on Thursday to put her house on the market, so she can move to Venice permanently. Chet went back to work this morning, although she was grumbling about it. She’s still training some nitwit and said he gives her a headache by talking too much.”
“Sounds like my ex-wife.”
Tuff’s eyebrows shot up. It wasn’t often Irv mentioned the woman he’d been married to briefly about ten years ago. All Tuff knew was the union had been a disaster from day one.
Snorting, Chase just shook his head and then eyed Tuff. “Tell Chet to bring Meat to the softball practice today if she wants.”
“Shit,” Tuff said with an eye roll. “I forgot that was this afternoon. Did you and Sawyer figure out what the winners get yet?” The game between the two security companies was this Saturday. At first, there’d been a bunch of groans about it, but there was a healthy rivalry between them, and now there were a lot of side bets and mudslinging going on.
“Yup, but you’ll have to wait until Saturday to find out.”
Just after 6:00 p.m., Tuff was standing next to third base in the little league field at a local park as Minx was underhand pitching a softball to her partner, Jester.
“C’mon, old man,” Dusty yelled from left field. “My mother can hit better than you!”
“Your mother can do something else better than him too!” Sherlock shot back from the on-deck circle before making an obscene gesture with his hands, which brought a scowl from Dusty and roars of laughter from everyone else.
Seconds later, Jester struck out. While Minx waited for the batters to swap places, the fielders shuffled around. Suddenly, there was one cat call whistle, quickly followed by a few more. Tuff’s head spun around as he tried to figure out who the guys were all looking at. Glancing over his right shoulder, he almost swallowed his tongue. Chet had arrived in grand fashion. S
he was wearing a red sundress with white polka dots, which showed off her amazing curves and stopped just above her knees, and cute, white sandals. Her black hair was pulled up at the back of her head in some combination bun/ponytail thing. With a little bit of red lip gloss, she looked like one of the pin-up models from the 1940s or 50s—the ones almost every guy in the military or working a blue-collar job had put up in his locker. He’d never seen her in a dress before, other than the demure, black one she’d worn to one of the wakes for her friends. To say she was a knock-out was an understatement, and Tuff had the urge to whisk her away from the gazes of the men he worked with.
Hanging at the crook of her elbow was a picnic basket—the very one Tuff had used the day they’d gone to the beach. In her other hand, she held fast to Meat’s leash. The big doofus had spotted Tuff and was trying to get over to him for a belly rub or ear scratch. Using her free hand, Chet waved at Tuff and mouthed “hi.”
“Hey, Tanner! Stop drooling over your girlfriend and get your ass back in the game!”
Minx’s shout cut into his fantasy of bending Chet over the bleachers, lifting the skirt of her dress, and fucking her from behind. Giving her a wink, he turned and faced home plate, but between pitches, his gaze kept shooting to where she was sitting on the bleachers with Boots’s wife and kids. Tuff, Chet, and her mother had been invited to a barbecue at the other couple’s house last Saturday afternoon, and the women had gotten along great.
After Sherlock hit a foul ball, Tuff took another look and eyed Chet’s bare legs yet again. His gaze lingered longer than it should have, but he couldn’t help himself. She was fucking gorgeous and all his.
“Tuff!”
His name being yelled registered a millisecond before his head exploded in pain, and he dropped to the ground. Stars filled his vision as shouts and curses reached his ears. The one that stood out the most was Chet’s terrified scream. “Oh, my God! Jason!”
Tuff Enough Page 14
