by Elle James
She reached out and touched the dog tags and, in doing so, touched his hand.
Again, an electric current rushed through Mad Dog’s body. Hell, he’d been around women. Had his share of sex when he was still on active duty. But he’d never felt anything quite like the reaction he was having toward Agent Richards.
“Maddox, Caleb.” She quickly dropped her hand, as if she’d felt the current as well. “These could be cheap Chinese shit.”
He tucked away the tags and chain inside his shirt. “They’re government issue.” He clapped his hands together. “Anyway, my new boss sent me up to help out a CIA agent—namely you—with a potentially dangerous situation.” His lips twitched. “He didn’t mention the problem might be critter-related.”
“I don’t need backup. I can take care of it myself,” she said. “So, you can head back to wherever you came from.”
“Colorado. I drove up today.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Then back to Colorado you can go.”
Rustling sounded from the closet, and the raccoon skittered back across the floor and under the bed.
Jolie edged toward him, her gaze on the floor, her hand going to the gun in the shoulder holster.
“If you insist... I’ll go back to Colorado and let you handle your guest on your own.” He turned as if to leave, watching her out of the corner of his eye.
She was staring at the bed, drawing her weapon. “Yeah. Don’t let the door hit you in the backside on your way out,” she muttered.
He paused. “Do you want me to get the critter out before I leave?”
She chewed on her bottom lip. “I really don’t need help.” Only she didn’t sound all that certain.
Amused that an assassin looked so perturbed by a wild animal, he smothered a smile. “Look, it helps to have two people in this situation. One to scare the varmint out, the other to capture it when it comes running.”
“If you say so...” She gnawed on that lip, making Mad Dog want to kiss it better. “Or I can just shoot it.”
“If you want to blow a hole in the floor, inviting more of the same to enter through yet another route.”
She straightened and shot him a quick glance before returning her attention to the bed. “What do you suggest?”
“How attached are you to the sheets hanging on the railing outside?”
She shrugged. “Not very.”
“If you don’t mind donating one to the cause, with the expectation of it being ripped to shreds, we can take care of this pretty quickly.”
“Okaaay,” she said.
“I’ll be right back.” Mad Dog ran out to the porch, snagged a sheet and hurried back into the bedroom where Jolie stood exactly where he’d left her.
“What now?” she asked.
“Move around to the other side of the bed and make noise. I’ll catch the raccoon as he runs out.”
It sounded simple enough, but the execution didn’t come out quite like Mad Dog anticipated.
Jolie made noise, and the raccoon darted out from under the bed. Unfortunately, not in the direction Mad Dog had been prepared for.
The creature ran out the other side and headed for the open door to the bedroom.
With the sheet in hand, Mad Dog dove for the animal, hitting the floor hard on his bad knee. Pain shot through his leg. He ignored it, trapped the raccoon in the sheet and scooped it up. Figuring he only had a few seconds before the raccoon ripped through the thin sheet, Mad Dog rushed out of the bedroom and half-ran, half-limped down the hallway, holding the sheet away from his body.
The raccoon went ballistic, ripping at the sheet in a desperate attempt to get free.
“Hurry, before he gets out,” Jolie said, following behind Mad Dog.
Like he didn’t already know that. Mad Dog limped faster. Right as he cleared the front doorway, the raccoon tore free of the sheet.
“Close the door!” Mad Dog yelled.
Jolie slammed the screen door shut behind the man and the animal.
Mad Dog dropped the sheet. The varmint lay buried beneath, but soon worked its way free and ran to what it assumed was a tree and climbed.
The tree happened to be Mad Dog’s leg.
He grabbed the creature by the scruff of the neck and tossed it toward the bushes lining the front of the deck.
Seconds later, the animal disappeared beneath the branches.
Giggling sounded behind the screen door.
Mad Dog glanced up.
Jolie held her belly around her middle, her face red, her eyes dancing.
“What’s so damned funny?” he asked, though his own lips were twitching. The woman’s mirth was contagious.
Jolie let go of the amusement she’d barely held in and laughed out loud. “You should have seen your face! Wish I’d filmed that raccoon climbing your leg. I... My God, I can’t breathe.”
A chuckle rose in his throat.
Jolie’s laughter infected him, and he joined her.
Finally, she opened the door and stepped out on the deck, her grin slowly fading to a small smile. “Did he bite you? They can carry rabies.”
“I know.” He turned right and left, trying to inspect all the places the animal touched.
“Stand still and let me check,” Jolie commanded.
With his lips still twitching, Mad Dog stood still.
Jolie circled him, studying practically every inch of his body. By the time she finished, he was fully turned on. Thankfully his jeans were snug enough to keep from showing his full attraction to her perusal.
“Other than a few scratches, I don’t see anything to be concerned about.”
“We need to check that room. The raccoon got into the house. If we don’t find and plug the hole, it might get back in.”
Jolie glanced toward the road leading up to the ranch house. “Yeah. It’s getting close to dusk. We can’t leave it to chance. I don’t plan on sharing my bed with a raccoon.”
We.
The reference wasn’t lost on Mad Dog. Perhaps she wouldn’t insist on him leaving quite so soon. Either that, or she was waiting until they figured out the critter problem. Then she’d boot him out the door.
Whatever her reason, it would buy him time to convince her he was an asset to her mission. And he wanted to stick around. He found he liked the tough agent and even more so, now that he’d seen her green eyes dance with laughter. The woman transformed from badass to sweet girl in seconds. He wanted to see that transformation again.
Mad Dog followed her into the house. “You should laugh more often.”
Jolie snorted. “How do you know I don’t?”
“By the lines on your forehead. I bet you spend most of your days frowning.”
“Not that it’s any concern of yours, but I don’t find much to laugh about in my line of work.”
“All work and no play makes you old fast.”
“Says a SEAL who spent most of his service days deployed or training.”
He shrugged. “We found time to laugh.”
“We.” She shook her head and stepped into the bedroom they’d vacated moments before. “I work alone.”
“A fact you’ve made perfectly clear. But that was in the past. This is the present, and I’m here to help.”
“Then start by helping me figure out how that raccoon got into my bedroom.”
Jolie started her inspection at one corner of the room.
Mad Dog took the other end of the room. No holes in the corners or ceiling. He dropped to his haunches and looked under the bed at the same time as Jolie.
“Damn,” Jolie said.
A heating vent had been pushed out of the floor, far enough to allow a persistent animal to wedge itself through the small space.
“That means the ductwork to the vent is displaced as well. Basement or crawlspace?” he asked.
“Basement.”
They rose at the same time and stared at each other over the mattress.
“That means they’re getting in through the ba
sement.” Jolie chewed on her lower lip. “That’s where the ductwork is located.”
“How long has it been since you’ve been here?”
She looked away. “Eight years.”
“No one checked on the house and contents in that time?”
Jolie shook her head. “No. This is my first time home since—in that time.” She walked to the closet, avoiding his direct stare.
Mad Dog had a feeling something had happened eight years ago. Something that made her leave. By her body language, it wasn’t something she wanted to talk about to a stranger. So, he didn’t push. Everyone was entitled to his or her secrets.
Jolie slid hangers across the bar. “I should have gotten rid of these old clothes eight years ago.” When she glanced down at the floor of the closet, she gasped.
“What?”
The tough CIA agent dropped to her knees, her face softening.
Mad Dog stepped beside her and went down on his haunches, his heart thudding in his chest at the change in her expression.
She’d softened, her mouth curling into a smile so sweet it melted his heart.
He tore his glance away from her face and looked at what held her attention.
In a makeshift nest of old clothes and shoeboxes was a litter of raccoon kits, their eyes still closed, huddled together for warmth.
“No wonder she was so desperate to get out of the sheet,” Jolie whispered. “But I can’t let them live in the house.”
“I’m sure if we take them outside, the mother will find them and move them somewhere safe.”
Jolie looked up at him. “You think?”
“Let’s see what happens,” he said softly.
As appeared to be her habit when she wasn’t sure, Jolie chewed on her bottom lip. “What if something else gets them?”
“We’ll put them close to where the mother disappeared. We can watch out for them from the front porch.”
“I know raccoons can be pests, but I can’t bring myself to hurt the babies. They deserve a chance at life.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “My father wouldn’t kill kits, even though the adults ate chickens, stole eggs and raided the feed.” Jolie reached for the nest.
“Let me. I’m already acquainted with their mother.” He gave Jolie a twisted grin and lifted the entire bundle into his arms.
This time, she led the way to the door and opened it for him.
He walked out onto the porch, looking first to make sure no one else had slipped into the area while they were otherwise occupied by the animals.
When he’d ascertained the immediate vicinity posed no more of a threat than being attacked by a mother raccoon, Mad Dog carried the bundle of babies down the stairs.
Pushing his way through the overgrown bushes, he set the bundle on the ground.
“Any sign of the mother?” Jolie asked from above.
“No.” He glanced up to see her leaning over the porch rail, her green eyes bright, her strawberry-blond hair falling forward around her shoulders. The woman had no clue how beautiful she was with the sun shining on her head, burnishing her light red-gold hair into copper.
Mad Dog positioned the bundle against the base of bush and tucked the clothing around the kits to keep them warm. Once he’d settled them, he rose and glanced around. “Shouldn’t you be somewhere safer, considering you have a terrorist after you?”
Jolie shot a glance around the yard and fields in front of the house and shrugged. “I’m keeping watch.”
“Yeah, well, I’d feel better if you went back inside.”
Her eyebrows drew together. “I’ve been with the CIA for the past eight years, and I’m still alive.”
“How many of those eight years have you had a terrorist targeting you?”
3
Jolie wanted to be angry at the man standing in her yard, but she couldn’t. He’d just shown a softer, compassionate side of himself by capturing the mother raccoon and releasing her outside. And if that wasn’t enough to convince her he couldn’t be all bad, he’d relocated the kits so the mother raccoon could find them.
She sighed. “None. I haven’t had a single terrorist targeting me. I’m usually shooting from a semi-protected position. My targets never know what hit them.”
He nodded. “Until now.”
“Until now,” she agreed. “Somehow, Abdul Nadir, formerly known as Dwayne Duncan, learned who took out his brother. I think the guy is a computer hacker or knows someone who is. Anyway, my contacts back in Virginia on the cyber team tell me Dwayne is online and spewing threats.”
“I’ll check with my sources and get an update.”
“Your sources?” she asked. “I thought your sources were my sources. You are working with the CIA, aren’t you?”
He stared straight into her eyes and answered, “If I told you…” Mad Dog’s lips twitched. “Well, you get the picture.”
“You’d have to kill me.” She rested her hands on her hips. “Don’t tempt me.”
He climbed the stairs, favoring one of his legs. When he was standing beside her, he waved toward the door. “Humor me, will ya? Step inside, out of target range.”
“I will, but only because I need to shore up the basement against other varmint intruders.” She poked a finger toward him. “Not because you told me to.”
He tipped his head. “So noted.”
She entered the house, fully conscious of the man following her.
He was a big guy with broad shoulders, a trim waist and massive thighs. Though he walked with a limp, he exuded sheer masculinity, strength and confidence in every movement. And the dark stubble on his chin made her want to rub her hand across it to see just how bristly it was. She wondered how the prickly hairs would feel brushing across her naked skin.
As soon as the thought surfaced, she pushed it to the back of her mind, reminding herself that he was cramping her style. Jolie worked alone. It was easier that way. On the rare occasion she was assigned a partner, she kept him at a distance. No emotional connections. She’d learned with her family that getting emotionally involved was painful. Especially when you lost a person to death. And getting involved with another agent would be setting herself up for heartache.
Jolie headed for the basement. What better way to ground herself than by going underground to determine the extent of infestation in her old home? Her father would be appalled. He’d always taken such good care of their home.
Her mother had adored the stone and cedar exterior of the house and had decorated the interior with love and happiness in a homey rustic style, using handmade pillows and quilts, sturdy leather sofas and recliners. She’d known her husband would be coming in from a hard day’s work on the ranch and hadn’t wanted him to have to shower before he could relax in his recliner.
Jolie could remember sitting at her mother’s feet on one of the rag rugs she’d made of coiled swatches of fabric. Before Jolie left home, she’d rolled up that rug and encased it in plastic sheeting to protect it from damage. Maybe she’d get it out while she was there.
The basement door was located near the kitchen. Jolie switched on the light, once again, grateful she’d had the forethought to have the electric company turn on the power before she’d arrived.
The light overhead burned a dull yellow and flickered. She’d check the stash of bulbs in the pantry and see if they were any good after sitting dormant for eight years. She didn’t see any reason why they wouldn’t be.
Before she could take the first step down, Mad Dog touched her arm.
An electric current rippled across her nerves and coiled low in her belly. Having this man around could prove to be too much of a distraction.
“Let me go first,” he said and brushed past her.
It rankled that he didn’t think she could take care of herself. Then again, they were dealing with animals, not people. Why not let the man handle the creepy, crawling things that could go bump in the night while she slept?
Jolie stepped back and waved her hand. “By all means
.”
Mad Dog descended the stairs into the full basement. A couple of the lights weren’t working, giving the entire space an eerie, shadowy aura that sent chills across Jolie’s skin.
She shrugged it off. The basement was a good ten degrees cooler than the rest of the house.
By the time Jolie reached the bottom step, Mad Dog had made a complete circuit of the space.
“Clear,” he pronounced.
“Clear of what?”
“Bad guys.”
She snorted. “What about bad rodents?”
“We need to give it a more thorough investigation. I noticed droppings in the western corner and a small window with a broken pane. I suspect the creatures are getting in through there.”
Covering every inch of the space together, they returned to the western end of the basement. The small window, emitting a scant amount of light through the broken, dirty pane, had a hole large enough for a raccoon to enter.
“If that little hole let a raccoon in, no telling what else has taken up residence,” Mad Dog said.
Jolie shivered. “Great. I know I won’t be sleeping tonight. I think we had mousetraps stored in the barn. I have a jar of peanut butter in my supplies.”
Mad Dog nodded toward a stack of lumber. “If you don’t mind my using some of that scrap lumber, I’ll board up the window.”
“Knock yourself out.” She eyed the ductwork that had come loose. Jolie suspected it was the route the mama raccoon had taken up into her bedroom. “I’ll have to have an air conditioning and heating service come out to clean the ductwork. In the meantime, I’m not turning on a fan, heater or the AC.”
“Smart idea. Will you be warm enough without the heat?”
“I like sleeping cool. If it gets too cold, I can start a fire in the fireplace.”
“After we clean the flue.” He shook his head. “The last thing you want is to set the house on fire because birds have built eight years of nests in your chimney.”
