by D. D. Ayres
So, again, he was the problem.
The sting of that accusation felt familiar. His father had been his usual self just before Scott had left this morning. Why couldn’t Scott take time off to look after his mother until his father was on his feet again? Why wouldn’t he simply demand the time off? Didn’t he want to help out? And why had Nicole left so quickly? Couldn’t his son keep up his end of a relationship long enough to get his wife back for more than a day?
All that disapproval, and his parents had no clue that the trashing of their home was more than likely his fault, too.
Scott dropped the panties back in the drawer and turned toward the door.
He would bet money that X, with or without the Pagans’ direct involvement, had frightened his parents to send him a message. The hog’s head couldn’t be coincidence. X had figured out who he was, knew he’d been an undercover narc, and was going to make life hell for people he cared about until he provoked a confrontation.
The New Brunswick police had promised to keep an eye on his parents, after he explained the “pig” reference. But they didn’t have an official obligation to do so. This was simply a courtesy extended to a fellow law enforcement officer. He couldn’t tell them more without jeopardizing both his new and old U/C operations.
Scott ran a hand down his face. Even after a few hours’ sleep he was still exhausted and hungry, and tired of thinking about things that tied him up in razor wire. He knew—gut level—that everything that was wrong in his life was his own damn fault.
His responsibility. His mess to clean up. He was going to have to do something about X. He just didn’t know what yet.
As for Cole, he guessed it was time he fessed up about how he felt about her, and took the consequences. However painful that might be.
“Come, Izzy.” He grabbed a bag of dog food and headed out for Harmonie’s cafeteria where there’d be coffee and sweet rolls and, with luck, Cole.
* * *
“Handlers are permitted to talk, praise, encourage, clap, pat their legs, and use verbal means of encouragement. Multiple commands and/or hand and arm signals are allowed. Handlers must not touch the dog or make any other physical corrections. If during the performance, loud or harsh commands or intimidating signals are used, the handler will be penalized.”
Cole listened to the rules being read by the judge, along with the dozens of other handlers competing in Agility at the open-air competition. At nine A.M. the sun was making itself felt through the canopy of park trees. She’d been given all her team’s paperwork and a sheet of the course. Hugo was listed as Open Standard, an intermediate class designation that meant that Hugo had already earned the Novice Agility title, thanks to Lattimore’s machinations. At the moment, she was more worried about showing the judges that she and Hugo belonged in competition.
When the announcements were finished, Cole looked around for Yardley. This was her doing, a surprise announcement at six A.M. that Yardley had entered them in an Open Agility competition in a suburb of Richmond, Virginia. Cole hadn’t had time to do more than gulp her coffee, prepare a show bag containing treats, toys, leads, water bowls, water, and pooper scooper, and set off.
She had thought two seconds about waking Scott, but he was stretched on his bed in only a snug pair of knit shorts, dead to the world.
The fact that he looked amazingly vulnerable and cuddly in that prone position did nothing to encourage her to wake him. She was mad at him. Well, hurt was a better word. And annoyed. But she also had world-class reserves of self-preservation stored up. Going anywhere near him was just asking for the kind of trouble she could not afford now that he had redrawn the personal space lines.
Cole adjusted her sunglasses and refocused. Scott was a problem that wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. At the moment, she had bigger issues. This was her first official dog competition in a decade. She was as nervous as the first time, a fourteen-year-old with sweaty palms and a pulse in overdrive.
There was no mention of Shajuanna Collier on the list of competitors, and no reason to think she would be here. Shajuanna lived in Maryland, just outside Baltimore. Yet there were enough things going on to keep Cole off balance. For instance, she was listed on Hugo’s paperwork as Noel Jenkins. So, not only was she road-testing her Agility course skills for the first time in years, she was also undercover.
She wished—No, she was glad Scott—no, Sam—wasn’t here. His dual-personality presence would have been one thing too many to keep track of today.
When the smaller dog classes ended, Cole rechecked the course map. Because each course was different at every event, handlers were allowed a short walk-through of it before the competition started.
This one seemed much more difficult than the ones she’d been using with Hugo. Her worse nightmare was that she would get lost on the course and Hugo would make mistakes because of her.
“This is just a test run.” The sound of her own voice was small comfort. If they didn’t do well, what did it matter? Not a disaster if Hugo popped out of the poles on the Weave obstacle. Except that all the other competitors would wonder how they had achieved Advance status with a team who didn’t seem to know the basics.
She smoothed the exhibitor’s entry labels stuck on her T-shirt after making certain it matched Hugo’s paperwork. Despite the heat of the summer day she felt clammy.
You backed down a Pagan yesterday, Noel Jenkins. Put your big girl panties on and get out there!
“Hi, Noel.”
Cole started at the sound of Scott’s voice at her back. Before she could turn around a hand slid around her waist from behind and pulled her up against him as he dropped a kiss on her neck just behind her right ear. Pleasant sensation zinged through her as his warm breath fanned over her skin. So did confusion. Oh, right, they were Noel and Sam in public from now on.
She turned within his one-armed embrace. “What are you doing here? Sam?”
He nodded, offering her a very wide grin beneath the shades that shielded his eyes. “Sorry to be late, babe.” He dropped another kiss, this time on her lips, before he released her waist. “Got held up in traffic. Isn’t that right, Izzy?”
Cole looked down at Izzy, who was on the leash, and bent to pet her. “Hi, Izzy.”
Scott pushed back his sunglasses and looked around. “Where’s the dog of the hour?”
“This way.” She pointed to the cordoned-off area where participants had set up crates and stations for their dogs.
As they fell into step, he swung an arm behind her and anchored his hand on her opposite shoulder.
Cole looked up to find him smiling at her, a grin that managed to be easy and intimate and slightly intimidating all at once. She smiled back and received a shoulder squeeze. Oh, he was good at this. He was at ease. If she didn’t know better she would believe his possessive lustful gaze was genuine. It seemed so natural. It was, for Noel and Sam, she reminded herself. Simple and easy because they were totally into one another and everything between them was new and fresh. No baggage.
No baggage.
She repeated that line in her thoughts as she reached up and hooked her thumb in the back of his jeans. She was only momentarily disconcerted to feel the impression of a pancake holster against her knuckle. He wore his weapon under his shirt in the small of his back. It was a reminder that this wasn’t a free and easy day. They were on the job. She had two huge tasks ahead of her. Complete the Agility circuit competently. And make every observer believe she was infatuated with Sam.
“Hey.” Scott paused. When she did, too, he steered her around to face him and tilted her chin up with his curved forefinger. “I missed not waking up to you this morning. Just so you know.” He kissed her again, this time taking time to really leave an impression.
When he lifted his head she stared into green eyes edgy with emotion she didn’t dare ponder. Yep, he was good. And that scared her because all she wanted to do now was kiss him again, and go on kissing him until the rest of the world … oh, she w
as in trouble. She gave him a distracted smile and moved on.
Accustomed to patrolling in crowds, Hugo was standing alert in his crate when they approached, watching his surroundings but not anxious about them.
Cole let him out and snapped on a leash. He walked straight over to Scott.
“Hey there, Hugo. How’s it going, big fella?” Scott tapped his hand against his jeans leg. Hugo came over and allowed himself to be petted.
“Advance Agility for Large Dogs is open for walk-through.”
The loudspeaker’s announcement startled Cole. Her pulse began to pound. She wasn’t ready. She knew it and so, in short order, would everyone watching the competition.
Astonished at her own reaction but unable to control it, Cole took a step backward, bumping into Scott. This was going to be a first-class disaster, in front of Yardley, Scott, and the Agility world. She looked up at Scott. “I can’t do this.”
Scott ignored the panic in her tone, though it amazed him. “No, you can’t. The Agility course is for dogs.” He pulled the course map from her hands “Hell. If he could read, Hugo wouldn’t need you at all.”
Kate Winslet peeped out of her gaze. “Give the map back.”
“I don’t think so. You’re a natural-born competitor. You and Hugo are a team. You read each other like you’ve got a psychic connection. He trusts you. You trust him. You got this.”
Cole could hear his words but they weren’t getting through to her mind. She reached for the map. “I need that back.”
He backed away from her, holding it higher than she could reach. “Tell you what. I’ll walk the course with you and you can explain it to me.”
Cole nodded, mostly because she didn’t want to get into a physical struggle with him she knew she couldn’t win.
They walked the course with the other handlers for fifteen minutes. By the time they exited, Cole was silent but feeling a bit more calm.
They went back to get Hugo.
Once on the leash, Hugo remained aloof from the other dogs, some barking and yipping with excitement, too certain of his alpha status to get caught up in the noise of those intimidated by strangers and unfamiliar animals.
Scott leaned against the crate and watched Cole continue to study the map as if it contained the answer to some cosmic mystery. He’d seen SWAT team members get overfocused just before a bust. It never went well. He needed to get her mind off the map for a second or she’d blow this.
“I was a jerk to you in New Jersey.”
She looked up, gaze scattered. “Yes, you were.”
“I’m trying to apologize.”
She nodded and lowered the map. “I’m trying to hear it.”
“Your being there meant everything to my parents.”
“Your mother already sent me an e-card saying thank you.”
“How did she know how to find you?”
Cole cocked her head to one side. “We exchanged e-mails and phone numbers.”
He murmured, “I don’t have that information.”
“Wonder why?”
He scowled. “Geez. You’re tough.”
“Just say the words.”
“Give me—” Scott stopped himself as she raised an eyebrow. “May I please have your contact info?”
“Oh, you smooth talker, you.” She smiled before whipping out her phone so they could exchange information.
“So, that’s settled.” Scott reached back to tuck his phone into his pocket. He missed and it fell onto the top of the crate but he didn’t notice.
Cole was about to point out his mistake when Hugo came up. She smiled at Scott but watched as Hugo picked up the cell in his mouth. Holding it delicately he immediately made a dive for his crate. “You were apologizing for being an arrogant ass.”
Scott looked away from her but his cheek in profile popped a dimple. “I’m glad you came with me. I needed you in ways I hadn’t known I would.”
“You’re welcome.”
He slipped off his shades and turned back to her. For a moment his expression softened into a smile that tugged her heart. “Thank you.”
She nodded and stood up.
“Hugo is up!” The gatekeeper’s cry didn’t startle her this time.
Adrenaline kicked up her heart rate in anticipation of the challenge ahead. But this time it felt on-the-job familiar, not out of control. Hugo, alert to Cole’s change in energy, barked twice and leaped into the air. He was ready to go.
Scott caught her hand and squeezed it. “Ready?”
Cole smiled at him. “Absolutely.”
He leaned in and kissed her again, lingering long enough this time to signal an intimacy she didn’t expect. Oh, right. For the benefit of the crowd. “I trust you to do this. Go kick some doggy ass.”
Scott found a place to watch in the shade by the portable picket fencing used to cordon off the one-hundred-by-one-hundred-foot space.
“Down in front, good-looking!”
Scott glanced back over his shoulder. Two older women in sunshades and floral-print tops and white capris sat beneath portable umbrella chairs, each with a can in hand.
The redhead waved. “Nice butt, but I can’t see around it. Want to back it up over here?”
Tucking in his smile, Scott and Izzy moved back from the fence toward the women.
The redhead lifted her shades. “I don’t know you. You’re new. Who are you?”
“Name’s Sam, ma’am.”
“My name’s Jennifer. This is Lorene. Want a beer?” She pointed to the cooler at their feet.
“No. Thanks all the same. You got a dog in the ring?”
“My daughter’s got a boxer named Tobey. Lorene and I used to compete but these days my legs won’t move as fast as they need to. Lorene’s got the damned MS. So we just come for the joy of watching.” She pointed back in the direction of the parking lot. “We recently got a 2008 Winnebago Sightseer 35J. Hardly ever miss a show on the Atlantic Coast, Maine to Florida. Who are you here for?”
Scott pointed out Cole and Hugo, who were entering the ring.
“Nice dog. Cute girl. They belong to you?”
In my dreams. But he was Sam today. “Yes, ma’am. My lady friend.”
Jennifer looked at Lorene. “He means they’re sleeping together.”
She looked back at Sam. “Looks like a nice girl. So, here’s a tip. If you don’t treat her right you better be packed and out of town before that beast of hers knows about it. I had a friend with a daughter one time, owned one of them Bouvier dogs. She brought home a guy who didn’t know how to behave. Next thing he knows her pet’s got his total attention. Crotch bit, right through his ding-a-ling.”
Laughter burst from Scott before he could control it. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
As they watched, Hugo flew over the first three jumps and then headed for the first tunnel. Out the other side, Hugo followed Cole’s signals
“That’s a lovely soft turn at that jump,” Jennifer commented.
After Hugo cleared a few more obstacles, Jennifer leaned toward Scott again. “See the way she counterrotated back toward her dog on the approach? That was a very nice backy-uppy.”
Scott held his breath as Hugo made the final turn into the jumps. When he had cleared them he came bounding back to leap into Cole’s arms. Amazingly, she caught him, though she staggered around for a few seconds before releasing him.
Jennifer tugged his pants leg. “He wasn’t the fastest time but he won’t be at the back, either. Your lady friend’s got talent. I can tell she’s new at this but she’ll learn.”
“Thanks for the lesson. I’ve got to go congratulate Noel.”
Scott tugged on Izzy’s leash to urge her off but she resisted. It took him only a second to realize she was signing, sitting at attention as she stared intently at Lorene, who was using an electronic cigarette.
He gave a subtle hand signal for Izzy to back off. He couldn’t afford to blow his cover before they’d even begun. She did but looked questioningly a
t him.
Too bad Izzy couldn’t tell him exactly why she was signing. The older woman could be carrying any of several legally prescribed medications like oxycodone or medical-grade opiates that would be on Izzy’s inventory of drugs to “sign” on when detected in a raid. Besides, Izzy wasn’t one hundred percent correct every time. A record of ten percent false positives in the field was considered an excellent rating for a K-9 drug dog. They should probably just walk away. Or maybe he should confirm his suspicion.
Scott casually took up the slack in Izzy’s leash as he eyed the woman. “What flavor are you smoking, Lorene?”
Lorene’s eyes widened guiltily before she glanced uncertainly at her friend.
“You into vaping?” Jennifer asked quickly.
Scott shook his head. “But Lorene sure looks like she’s enjoying herself.”
Jennifer tried to wiggle up out of her slinglike chair then gave up and waved Scott over to her. When he was close enough she pulled him down by the arm so she could whisper. “Lorene uses THC vapor to help control her spasms from MS. They’ve been giving her fits this morning. It’s legal where she bought it but not everywhere so don’t give us away, okay?”
Scott held up his hands. “None of my business.”
Jennifer grinned and turned to Lorene. “I told you he’s a good guy. I can always spot ’em.”
At that moment, there was a rustle of interest at the opposite side of the ring by the parking lot. The deep bombastic beat of 808 basses shattered the day as the hip-hop sounds of Eye-C blared from some unseen place.
A few seconds later, the music died and Scott watched the crowd part for a woman in a radically cropped tee and batik-printed drawstring harem pants hanging off spectacular hips and showing lots of toned caramel skin stretched over smooth abs. Shajuanna Collier was in the house.
