by D. D. Ayres
Her little joke fell flat. Scott’s expression didn’t alter a muscle. He just turned away.
Ten minutes later, he was on his knees sorting the paper chase that had once been his father’s files when he heard her call.
“Scott?”
His gut turned watery at the odd note in her voice. He didn’t even consciously move from his father’s office. He was simply there in the kitchen.
She was standing with the refrigerator door open. She pushed it wider when she saw him.
A bloody hog’s head sat on the middle shelf with an X carved into its forehead.
He moved forward and stared at it.
This was the clue he had been looking for. The break-in wasn’t random. It wasn’t amateur. This was a warning, to him, made at his parents’ expense. How was he supposed to explain that to them, and then make it up to them?
He didn’t even look at Cole as he walked away.
* * *
“A hog’s head?” Dave Wilson, Scott’s former undercover handler, whistled over the phone line.
“Yeah, the kind you can find in the frozen food section at Walmart.”
“You figure all this was just a way to deliver a message to you?”
“Pig. Police. The X. Doesn’t take Einstein to connect the dots.”
“What’s local law enforcement saying?”
“What you’d expect. Despite the implied threat, it’s not the kind of case they can classify as potentially lethal without further evidence. But you called me. Talk.”
Dave snorted on the other end of the line. “For starters, someone out of criminal investigations up in Philly requested your file a month back. It wouldn’t have come up on my radar if you hadn’t alerted me to look into things. The officer claims he pulled it by mistake.”
“Uh-huh. What did he get?”
“The standard stuff. Age, rank, general background. Nothing about U/C or SWAT. That’s classified.”
But enough to cause trouble. Anyone who was interested would have enough to take even basic information and find out where he went to school. From there it wouldn’t be at all difficult to locate his parents because they had lived in the same house for more than thirty years.
“Second. You were right. There’s money on the street in D.C. for information about a former undercover narc. No name attached. Info says it’s not gang-related but the Pagans know about it.”
Scott nodded. “So there’s a bounty on me?”
“More like reward for information. Maybe you. Okay, after your parents’ vandalism, probably you. So far, we got shit on this Dos Exquis scumbag. But his paperwork looks suspect so I’m digging. He’s been out of prison for six months. Visits his parole officer like clockwork.”
“He got a job?” Somewhere I can find him, Scott thought.
“You hear about the economy? Jobs are scarce even for the good guys. I’ll ask you again, can you think of anyone else who might want to get at you?”
“I’m pretty sure X is the guy trying to punch my ticket.”
“What did you say your girlfriend’s name is?”
“I didn’t say I had one.”
“Don’t get cute, Lucca. I know you. There’s a woman somewhere.”
“Is this really necessary?”
“If she’s a regular booty call, it’s necessary. They found your parents.”
Scott glanced toward the kitchen where Cole was still cleaning. “It’s delicate.”
“Surgery is delicate. Murder is messy.”
“It’s personal.”
“It can’t be personal. You said this is related to your former U/C assignment. That makes it my business, too.”
“She’s on the job and owed some consideration.”
“Police? Then at least give her a heads-up.” Dave waited three heartbeats before he changed the subject. “I’ll check with ATF. See if they’ve picked up any additional info about a bounty on a narc’s head. When are you leaving for your new assignment?”
“Tomorrow. DEA is anxious for us to get under way.”
“Where will you be?”
“How about I call you?”
Longer pause. “If I get anything else you’ll hear from me. Meanwhile, don’t get yourself fucking dead playing the hero.”
“Yes, sir.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“So I explained that it was just a business-related coincidence that we were together when I got the phone call. Because you remember them fondly, you offered to come along.” Scott looked out across his parents’ backyard to where their pool lay smooth as a mirror reflecting back the sky and trees in the late-summer evening light. “They needed to know that you coming with me didn’t mean anything was going on between us.”
Cole nodded. “Okay.”
This was the first real conversation they had had since they had left Harmonie Kennels late the night before. They had done a lot of cleanup in one day. But the house needed more, and then he needed to get professionals in to handle the stains and furniture repair. She and Scott had both showered at the hotel, separately, after she’d bought a pair of capris and a tee and a few other necessities. She was going to catch the late bus back to Virginia shortly. She’d already obtained tickets and a pass that allowed a police K-9 to travel with her. In less than thirty-six hours round-trip she would be back at Harmonie Kennels.
She glanced sideways at him. His hair, still damp in the warm summer air, lay in little C-hooks along his brow and collar. Her heart swelled—stupid heart—at the sight. She longed to run her finger along the column of his neck. Or maybe pull him close into her arms to offer the comfort of her body touching his. But she didn’t dare. Every tense line of his body told her to Keep Out.
Just as well she was going back because she didn’t know what to do with any of the feelings running through her. It wasn’t just lust this time. This was something much more risky. Something neither of them could afford to acknowledge right now.
Scott was staying on two days longer to shore things up for his parents. His dad would be released from the hospital in the morning. Other than out of necessity, Scott had scarcely spoken to her all day. She had gotten the message. She had barged in without thinking and without welcome. By doing so, she’d made things awkward with his parents. Scott was trying to be civil but it was hard.
Cole licked her lips, her throat suddenly dry. “I hope my appearance didn’t upset your parents.”
Scott looked pained. “The exact opposite. Dad’s still in a hospital bed and they were already making plans for us to come visit when the house is redone. Insurance is going to pay for a lot.”
“I see.”
Cole picked up and tossed a ball to Hugo, who went hustling after it. Izzy was asleep on top of Scott’s feet. “I’m sorry if my presence is an embarrassment for you.”
“You aren’t an embarrassment.” He sure seemed interested in something going on in the yard behind the fence. Or, he really didn’t want to look at her.
“I just wanted to help.” To cover her acute discomfort she launched herself out of the patio chair as Hugo came hurrying back. He spit out the ball at her feet in the hopes of another toss.
She didn’t look around when Scott stood up beside her. She just gave Hugo’s ball a mighty toss. The ball took a bad bounce and landed right in the middle of the pool.
“Crap.” She started to go after it but Scott wrapped a hand around her upper arm, halting her. When she turned to him his expression was still closed off, all but the beat of pain in his eyes.
“You did more than help. Your being there.” She could see him struggling with the words. She let him. Finally he lifted a hand to her cheek, cupping it so gently she felt the sudden foolish push of tears in her eyes. “Your being here was a good thing for them. Thank you.”
He dropped his hand and turned away. Izzy, feeling bereft, pulled herself to her feet and stared after him.
Cole watched him walk back into the house that had once been his home, thinking that she
was watching the loneliest man she’d ever known. Yet that didn’t make sense.
His dad was going to be fine. His mother was already talking about new drapes and paint chips this afternoon, mostly to have something positive to hold on to, Cole figured, when she dropped by the hospital to say farewell. His parents would be staying at a long-term residency inn while their home’s interior was redone. Scott had already found a place for them, close enough to the hospital so that if his dad should need care they could get there quickly.
Something else was wrong. He just wasn’t going to tell her.
The huge splash had her shaking her head before she even turned around. Hugo, all ninety-five pounds of him, was paddling for dear life to retrieve his ball from the pool.
Izzy did a head kick, cocking her head to one side, and woofed her opinion of his action.
Cole glanced down at the chocolate-brown Lab and smiled. “I know. Males. Right? At least you don’t have to share a bus seat with him tonight. Don’t suppose you know where a hair dryer is?”
* * *
Hugo scooped up the orange prize and pranced around the Harmonie Kennel course as if he was taking a victory lap after winning a race.
“Show-off.” Cole smiled and clapped for him.
For the first time, Hugo had completed the Weave obstacle without stopping or faulting. A week’s effort. It was tenuous at best. Yardley was loaning her the poles so that they could practice every day, wherever they went. They would need all the practice they could squeeze in. Hugo was still tentative in the beginning and slower than she wanted because he was still thinking his way through it.
She allowed him to chew on his prize for a few minutes to extract some of the peanut butter before asking for it back. Hugo reluctantly brought it to her and put it down. She picked it up and tucked it under her arm. “So now you know the joy of winning. Show me what else you’ve got.”
She ran back into the ring and put him through his paces, all the jumps and tunnels, the teeter-totter, and even the A-frame, before bringing him back to the Weave poles.
Hugo slid through the first four zigzags like butter. But he overshot coming out and went in between six and seven, skipping five-six.
“Nein.” She waved him back to the beginning.
Hugo gamely tried again, this time going more slowly, as if he was thinking his way through it again. He paused briefly twice but actually made it through. She didn’t hand him the prize this time but called him back to the beginning. “Hier. Again.”
The third time through he made it without mishap.
Cole tossed him the orange peanut-butter-flavored prize. “Good boy! Zei brav!”
Exhausted, she made her way back to the bunkhouse. Scott was expected back tonight, or so she’d heard from Richards. He hadn’t called or even texted her. Something wasn’t right. She couldn’t put her finger on it but the more she thought about it, his actions didn’t seem to be related only to the bad scare of almost losing his father. The hog’s head, which seemed just an ugly prank at the time, had begun to creep into her dreams. Who brought a hog’s head to an act of vandalism, unless it had a purpose? What purpose? A message. But for who?
“Always a cop, Jamieson,” she murmured to herself.
She’d become accustomed to putting the worst interpretation on every suspicious event. Perhaps the hog’s head had already been there in the Luccas’ freezer. Although she really couldn’t imagine Judge Lucca making roasted hog’s head in her immaculate kitchen.
Or possibly the only thing wrong with Scott was that he’d had sex with his ex.
Cole briefly covered her face with her hands. “Stupid move, Jamieson.”
While it had seemed a good idea at the time, during, and right afterward, Scott could be having second thoughts. Being a fuck buddy was one thing. The thought of having your ex back in your bed and under the same roof twenty-four/seven until the task force operation was over might be more than enough reason for him to back off and cool down. Maybe he thought she would start wanting more.
Home. Yeah. That unintentional slip had probably meant no more than the baseball scoring system junior high-schoolers still used to determine their sexual progress with a girl. Scott had made it to first, second, third, as well as accumulating a few more advanced scoring stats, before he slid into home.
Yep. That should be enough to send her running for the hills, too.
“Hey, Noel!”
Cole automatically smiled as she looked up. She was becoming accustomed to her new name.
Richards had pulled up in a truck beside her with what looked like a motorcycle under a tarp in the back.
She leaned in the window. “New wheels?”
“That’s right. Come and tell me what you think.”
While he climbed out, she moved to lean over the side of the truck bed on the opposite side. He pulled loose a couple of knots holding the tarp then whipped it off.
“It’s green.” Grasshopper green. Cole laughed. “I can’t imagine you on anything green.”
“You’d be right.” He grinned at her. “Like it?”
“What’s not to like? What is it?”
“A Kawasaki Ninja 250R. Great little sports bike for a female, I’m told. Not too much power but a sweet goer. Wouldn’t get on the interstate with her. She’s more a weekend-out-in-the-country bike, or for a city gal.”
He loosened the grips on the wheels, dropped the tailgate, and, using a built-in ramp, rolled her down. He patted the seat. “Try her out.”
Cole could feel her excitement building but resisted. “I’m sweaty from working Hugo. I wouldn’t want to get something so pretty dirty.”
“Up to you. You can try her now or later, but let me show you a few things before you take her for a spin.” He shut the tailgate and began folding the tarp.
“You’re leaving it for me to try out?”
“I’m leaving it for you, period.”
Cole was touched, and a little embarrassed. Just because they’d been flirting the past couple of days, innocently on her part, she hoped Richards hadn’t gotten the wrong idea about her interest in him. “That’s so nice of you but I can’t accept a gift this expensive.”
He grinned at her in a way that let her know he’d read her thoughts. “You’re cute but I’m taken.” He held up his left hand and tapped his ring finger.
Cole felt herself blush, hard. “Oh, I wasn’t thinking…”
“I’m still flattered. But put your mind at ease. I requisitioned this for the task force. I purely did like what a ride on a bike did for your confidence. Probably saved this operation. So, this is undercover operational equipment.” He patted the seat. “For the duration, this little honey belongs to Noel Jenkins.”
“Seriously?” Cole ran her hand over its sleek and sexy surface. It looked very modern and fun, like something from a movie. “I’d be afraid I might damage it.”
“Hell. Don’t worry about that. Worry about you. I can’t requisition another dog whisperer.”
“Dog whisperer?”
“That’s what the boys are calling you. Ms. Yardley says you’re remarkably good with Hugo. She didn’t expect you to progress so quickly. Says you have a gift for training K-9s.”
Delight sped through Cole. Yardley certainly had kept her praise a secret this week. In fact, every time she noticed the kennel owner watching her put Hugo through his paces, her heart rate had doubled in apprehension. Yardley seldom said a word, just watched her and Hugo’s every movement with eagle-eyed intensity.
“You take care now, you hear?” Richards opened the driver’s side door. “Wait up. I forgot something.” He pulled a big shopping bag out of the cab and came around to hand it to her. “I figured you wouldn’t have a helmet or jacket. Hope they fit. I had to guess your size.”
Cole pulled the items out. The jacket, thankfully, was black. The helmet a bright green to match the bike, as was the trim on the motorcycle gloves. “Wow. Let me pay you for these.”
“Not a
penny. My pleasure.”
She waited until Richards drove away to throw a leg over the bike. It felt lighter and easier to manage than the bigger, heavier one he rode. Yes, Noel just might be taking up a new hobby.
She looked down at Hugo, who was sniffing the bike suspiciously. “Too bad you can’t hang on or you could ride bitch.”
Hugo barked twice, sniffed the bike a little more, and then backed up and barked a few more times. Clearly he recognized competition when he saw it.
Cole leaned down and scratched the top of his head. “I will always love you best.” But, obviously, a test ride was in order.
One shower and a change of boots, jeans, jacket, and helmet later, Cole was cruising down a back road dappled with sunshine and leaf shadows.
The Kawasaki was a sweet ride. The engine buzzed like a motorboat, the sounds revving into a higher range, and she shifted gears.
Noel was riding, confident, sure of her skills but no squid, a rider overconfident of her abilities. She hadn’t seen Richards’s note tucked into the helmet until she went to put it on. “Better wary than roadkill.” That, of course, put things in perspective.
She was thirty minutes from Harmonie Kennels when she heard the sound of another bike, big and powerful, screaming up fast behind her. Cole glanced in her rearview mirror, thinking it might be Richards. It wasn’t. The guy didn’t wear a helmet. And he was straddling a vintage Harley.
She automatically glanced ahead. No oncoming traffic. She checked her speed and moved closer to the shoulder, expecting him to roar past her in a cloud of exhaust and earsplitting engine noise.
Instead, she heard him shifting down, coming up behind her until he was so close she could no longer see all of him in the mirror.
She waved him around her. Nothing.
Looking steadily ahead, she decided to ignore him. From what little she’d glimpsed of him, black shades, bearded, with a bandana holding back long greasy hair, he wasn’t anyone she wanted to deal with.
