by April Hunt
What will people think? echoed through her childhood. “Of course. I do remember those lessons from you.”
“Then apply what you learned.” A command, not a request. With him it was never a request.
She waited. He’d called her and she’d asked why. He could either continue to rant or actually get to the reason for this contact in the first place.
“I was informed you experienced an attack.” Was that a note of discomfort? Surely not.
“There was an incident at my hotel last night. I gave a detailed report to the police.” She waited to see where this was going.
There was an intake of breath. “Did you see your attackers well enough to identify them?”
A leering grin flashed across her mind’s eye. Her heart kicked hard in her chest and she swallowed the sudden taste of bile. Atlas was on his feet in front of her, pulling her focus with a somber stare.
She was safe. Atlas had made sure of it.
Regaining her composure, she stood and tried to walk off the residual nerves as she answered, “Not last night.”
Maybe her stepfather was concerned? Hard to tell with him, but there was always room for surprise in the day.
“No? It would have been useful if you could give a sketch artist something to work with.”
Ah. Of course. How easy it was to find a shortcoming. “The man I saw was wearing a ski mask. The other attacker came from behind and I never saw him.”
This was her stepfather’s chance to express concern. Two attackers. Didn’t he wonder how she’d come through in one piece?
“As your point of escalation on your current contract, I was notified about the encounter and your physical status but not given the details of the sequence of events.” He paused. “I assume you were able to trigger an alarm of some sort to call for aid.”
Actually, no. And if Cruz hadn’t arrived when he had, she wouldn’t have been able to. Something she was going to fix, and soon. Maybe one of those tiny, super loud air horns to carry in her purse. “Not quite, but help was close by and the police were called as soon as possible.”
She was reluctant to mention Cruz saving her. It wasn’t that she wasn’t thankful. She was. But the idea of admitting to her stepfather that she’d needed rescuing stuck in her throat. She should have been more aware of her surroundings, should’ve been able to guard herself better. The nature of her job had her traveling alone most of the time and right now the idea of staying in a hotel gave her more than a moment’s hesitation. Suddenly cold, she shuddered.
“You’ve changed to a hotel with better security?” It was more of a statement than a question. Another assumption.
He made those a lot. And basically considered you an imbecile if you hadn’t done what he considered the most logical, best, or expedient thing to do.
This time, she was fairly certain he would be surprised but not disappointed. “Not a hotel. I’ve moved into guest accommodations directly on Hope’s Crossing Kennels property.”
Silence. Then, “Is staying on the premises a common practice when you are consulting?”
Oh no, judgment could stop right there. “With private clients, of course not. However, this is a professional kennel facility and it makes absolute sense to be as near Atlas as possible while I work with him. It maximizes my access to him and the increased exposure could potentially speed his recovery.”
There, refute that line of reasoning.
“Indeed.” Another pause. “And security is sufficient on the premises?”
Was he actually concerned for her safety? She checked her incredulity. She was getting petty and letting it go was still a work in progress. Recent years working on her own had helped her maturity in dealing with him but this contract and the sudden uptick in conversations dragged up too many old habits. It was time to think more constructively. “Security here is better than most hotels. Gated entrance, video surveillance, and dogs with various levels of advanced training.” She paused. It seemed thorough to her so she considered what else might be useful information to provide before he needed to prompt her again. “One of them has been caught.”
“How?” His voice turned sharp.
Puzzled, she answered, “He showed up here at the kennels while I was working with Atlas this morning. Atlas apprehended him.”
And she was incredibly proud of Atlas. She paused in her slow pacing around the room and turned to give the dog a soft smile. He was still in front of the couch, sitting now.
“Ah.” Her stepfather cleared his throat. “I wasn’t aware. It’s not likely you were targeted at random at the hotel, then. Do the police know why this man seems to have targeted you specifically?”
“That’s a good point.” It galled her to acknowledge it because any time he had one it was an assumption he was right about all things, in perpetuity. “The police took him into custody. I haven’t heard anything more.”
Silence.
“I guess you were only notified about last night’s incident so far?” She was walking out on thin ice and at any minute it was going to crack under her feet.
She didn’t want to think about the attack last night or the man showing up this morning. But there was a reason he’d come after her and there was another man still out there. It might be more trouble for Hope’s Crossing Kennels and she didn’t want to repay their generosity in letting her stay with the danger. Uneasy, she started to pace again. Maybe she should discuss this with David.
“I’m sure I’ll be notified shortly. I’ll also take steps to ensure there isn’t a delay in this kind of update in the future.” So matter of fact.
If he only said it was because he cared, it’d make all the difference. Instead, he made it sound like he was just making sure he could call in expedient damage control in case she managed to embarrass him. She used to think he was planning a political career the way he worried so much about appearances. But the two of them had never been on the same page, so neither understood the other’s aspirations.
She’d given up trying to share a long time ago.
“You were the one who wanted to be involved in this particular military case.” He had to bring it up. “There are quite a few eyes on the dog. He’s been prominent in the news and other media outlets.”
Of course. “I’m making good progress for having only recently met Atlas.”
“Good. I expect personal status reports.” Crisp. Maybe even cheerful? For him.
There was quite the range of moods from him today. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been on the phone with him for this long.
“Via e-mail?” she asked hopefully. Please. E-mail would be so much less awkward than phone calls.
“Secure e-mail correspondence with me, always. Use the encryption program I sent you.” He sounded distracted now. Already done with her and on to the next thing.
Actually, she was relieved. It’d been a weird conversation. “No problem.”
Still, she was surprised he was interested enough in Atlas and her work to request actual status reports. Of course, this was the first time her line of work had overlapped with anything remotely related to his, and as the main holder of her contract she supposed it did reflect directly on him.
“I’ll send you some background on this kennel and the man working with you on the dog.”
She blinked. “I’d planned to research both the kennel and the people I’m working with already.”
“The research should have been done in advance, but you wouldn’t have the resources to access much more than names and public record.” He made it sound so dismissive.
Well, she wasn’t a private investigator and as a civilian, she was limited to what a good Internet search could find for her. He had another point. She was never going to be someone to spite herself by turning down valuable information just because of where it came from.
“Background information would be helpful.” There. As close to a thank-you as she was going to manage through gritted teeth.
“Remember. Your performance reflects on me and that dog is a military asset. Conduct yourself professionally.” His admonishment sparked her temper again. “The man you’re working with is former military. Don’t let him run over you on this case. Men like him are still military even after they’ve left active duty. Arrogant sons of bitches. Do not let him take credit for our family’s work.”
Hello, pot, calling kettle black.
And there was no way her stepfather could know about the…almost moment between her and David. Something she hadn’t had a chance to think about, but she should. Until she did, though, her stepfather needed to recognize this project included real souls. Not just assets listed on a report. “That dog’s name is Atlas. And I am always professional. I’m very good at what I do.”
Damn. Too much. She shouldn’t have taken the bait. Shouldn’t have gotten defensive about her abilities.
“We’ll see.” He ended the call.
Of course. He always had the last word. And damn, but it’d left her reaching for a comeback again. Too slow. Flustered. He’d won that round.
She tapped her foot, restless. Atlas hadn’t budged from his spot over by the couch, but he was sitting up and watching her. Another good sign. Even if he wanted to maintain a little detachment, he was tuned in to what she was doing and what her moods were. Engaged. Very positive considering yesterday he’d been completely disinterested in life in general and people specifically.
No harm in continuing a bit of therapeutic venting in Atlas’s direction. Dogs were excellent listeners. “I lived and breathed to please my stepfather when I was a kid. He was never home. The few times he came back, I wanted to show him everything I’d done while he was gone. How good I’d been. And somehow I got it into my head that if I could just do well enough in school, win enough awards, excel at sports, then he’d come home to stay. Every time he left again, it broke my heart.” Her eyes grew hot and she blinked against dryness. The tears had long since burned away when it came to this set of memories. “When he finally sat me down and informed me how very little I mattered in the bigger picture of his career and his life with my mother, my heart was in pieces on the floor. I was extra baggage. Someone else’s genetic contribution to the continuation of the human race. And out of honor, he’d see to it I had the basics to grow up and contribute to society. That was it.”
She huffed out a soft laugh. Atlas gave her one of those doggy raised eyebrow looks.
“By the time I realized I had nothing to do with his decisions, I thought I hated him. Really. It took a long time to realize no matter how mad I was at him, how much I said I didn’t care, I was waiting for the one time he’d say I’d proved him wrong or made him proud.” She chewed on her lip. It’d been a bitter taste, admitting it to herself. “He’s not a bad man. His priorities are different from…basically the rest of the warm-blooded, caring portion of this world.”
Atlas settled back down on his belly, his head raised as he continued to listen to her.
She stepped toward him and crouched down to sit back on her heels within arm’s reach of him. “We’re all assets to him. We each go in one of two buckets: useful or useless. And to be honest, even if I built my career on my own and in spite of his doubts, I still want to prove to him I’m not useless.”
She sighed. And Atlas sighed too.
“I want to say it’s not a primary driver.” Studying the beautiful contrast of black in the tan of Atlas’s face, calm settled over her. “And it’s not. I came here for you and your story. Just reading what happened, I wanted to get to know you. And now that I’ve met you, I want to see you happy again.”
Because broken hearts could heal. It wasn’t a whimsical child’s refuge, it was her very real belief and she wanted it for Atlas.
Chapter Five
Cruz hesitated at the door to his cabin, now guest quarters. Atlas hadn’t sounded any kind of alarm at his approach, but then the dog knew his step. If there was a window open somewhere, the dog might have caught his scent, too. Also familiar. It would’ve been confirmation: someone who belonged was on his way and not a stranger.
He shouldn’t be disappointed Atlas hadn’t given a warning bark on the approach of a known human.
But Atlas was waking up from the pining he’d been doing. Engaging with the world and people again. Maybe it was unfair to expect leaving him with Lyn Jones for an hour or two would trigger a full transformation in the dog, but Cruz had kinda hoped it’d be that easy—for Atlas’s sake, and so they could make more progress in tracking down the mystery of his old friend’s cryptic message.
Atlas’s handler, Calhoun, had sent a random text to Cruz in the middle of the night a while back. It hadn’t made any sense. Cruz had assumed it’d been a drunk text, honestly. Then Calhoun died. As far as Cruz was concerned, the message and the tragedy were connected in a bad way, no matter what the official report said. Cruz needed Atlas to puzzle out Calhoun’s message and his old friend deserved having his last request fulfilled.
One step at a time. He’d see how things had progressed with Lyn and Atlas first, then figure out his next actions. Considering how he’d left Lyn, there was a spark he needed to follow up on there, too.
Juggling the packages he carried into his left hand, he freed up the other to give a quick knock. Lyn’s soft acknowledgment came from inside, not directly on the other side of the door but definitely in the main room. He let himself in.
“Brought some choices for lunch.” Stepping inside, he noticed the guest cabin was mostly dark. The only light was streaming in from the windows. Plenty to see by, but a relief from the midday sun beating down outside.
“Smells good.” Lyn had been…sitting? She rose from the middle of the floor and Atlas came to stand on all four feet as she did it.
Funny.
“I’ve got a couple of choices from our favorite sub shop. Cheesesteak or meatball parm. Which would you like?”
Her eyes widened.
Shit. Maybe she didn’t like either option.
“Are you a vegetarian?” He probably should’ve asked before they’d made the lunch run but he’d been in a hurry to tuck her away someplace safe and get back to the police who’d responded to the call this morning.
She blinked and placed her hand on her belly. “No. I was just hoping you hadn’t heard my stomach growl when the word ‘cheesesteak’ came out of your mouth. I’m starving.”
Good. Otherwise, he would’ve been making a second run out for food because he sure as hell wasn’t going to let her go hungry as a result of his lapse in thought. Generally, he tried to be considerate and shit. With this woman, though, he was constantly off his game.
Atlas stood in the middle of the living area watching him, expression and body language decidedly neutral.
Well, the pair of them had him off balance. Cruz might have a chance to regain it if they could avoid an encounter requiring police follow-up for more than twenty-four hours. All things considered, anyone would be a little unhinged.
He headed for the small kitchen table in the breakfast area. “Let’s not keep you waiting anymore.”
Pulling the foil-wrapped subs out of the bag, he placed the cheesesteak in front of her and took the meatball parmesan for himself. Plenty of napkins went in a pile in the middle of the table. Added bonus, he flipped open a carton containing French fries drowning in melted cheese.
Lyn pulled out a chair and glanced back at Atlas mid-motion. The dog’s ears swiveled forward. Cruz bit back his first impulse comment and waited to see what she did.
She gave a slight shake of her head. “Atlas, auf.”
The dog hesitated and then lay down on his belly, head still up.
“Blijf.” She gave the dog a long look and then turned, seating herself.
Atlas watched her back and glanced at Cruz. Then the big dog set his head between his paws, turned away from the table as if he hadn’t wanted any people food anyway.
Cruz approved. No way was he going to feed any dog in their
care this kind of junk food. And yes, he saw the irony. But the dogs at Hope’s Crossing Kennels were fed balanced meals based on their weight and level of activity. Cheesy, greasy, bombs of comfort food were not figured into their dietary plans.
She glanced up to meet Cruz’s gaze. “I did some research into the command you taught me earlier. Most of my clients have their dogs trained to respond to English commands but Atlas and I have been figuring out how to work with the Dutch vocabulary he recognizes.”
He’d planned to work with her and Atlas on that after lunch. On one hand, her initiative was on point and he approved. On the other, he was inexplicably irritated at the implied censure in her tone. As if he’d meant to keep her communication with Atlas limited or been testing her. She was probably fishing to see if he’d been doing just that but he wasn’t going to take the bait and respond.
Whatever passive–aggressive crap she was anticipating, he didn’t play those games. So he remained silent and kept his expression neutral, continuing to set out their lunch.
“I’m not going to lie; I’m really interested in trying this.” Lyn quit staring at him and unwrapped the cheesesteak. “I’ve never had a real Philly cheesesteak anywhere near Philadelphia.”
Cruz raised an eyebrow. “Your work doesn’t bring you to Pennsylvania very often?”
She shook her head. “I’m mostly on the West Coast. Seattle, Portland, several cities in California.”
She had the sandwich up and had turned her head to the side, trying to fit the entire end in her mouth. As long as they were being honest, Cruz really enjoyed watching her try. How much a lady could fit into her mouth was always an interesting question.
And he was definitely going to hell for that thought.
Then her eyes shuttered closed as she had her first bite and chewed. “Mmm.”
His pants suddenly got a hell of a lot tighter. “Good?”
“Oh yeah.” She chewed some more, savoring. “That is really good.”
