Code Name: Bundle!

by Christina Skye

  Wolfe’s eyes closed. Agony set in.

  “Don’t worry, I’m almost done. Everything will be fine.”

  Abruptly her hands opened on his zipper, and Wolfe was a hundred percent certain that nothing would ever be fine again. Ryker’s tattooed blond threat was nothing compared to Kit’s provocative innocence.

  He gripped her wrists and held them still. “You can stop now.”

  She stared at him, wide-eyed. “Why?”

  She truly didn’t have a clue, he realized. “I’ll take care of the mess myself.” He shifted, trying to get comfortable. “I’ve got clean clothes in my bag. Is there someplace I can change?”

  She finished wiping her hands on a paper towel. “My next stop is the grocery, and they have a bathroom. After that, we hit Pet Land.”

  “Fine with me.”

  As she checked traffic, Kit frowned. “Baby usually gives more warning, but she’s been jumpy about something for the last few days. All the dogs are acting odd.”

  “Odd how?” Wolfe gave up trying to dry his pants. He was far more interested in what Kit had just said.

  “Anxious, mostly. Or restless, as if they were waiting for something. Sometimes they stop eating and stare up into the mountains like they know something’s out there.”

  They could have been sensing him, Wolfe thought. Or was it Cruz? If anyone could find the rogue agent, it would be these special dogs. Was that the next task on Ryker’s agenda?

  Kit pulled into a crowded parking lot and found the first available space. “I’ll stay here with the dogs while you go in.”

  “Here.” Wolfe stared at the football-field-size store and rubbed his jaw slowly. “You mean inside?”

  “You said you wanted to change your clothes. After you’re finished, maybe you’ll watch the dogs while I go pick up some things for Miki.”

  He hadn’t been to a shopping mall in six years. He wasn’t used to crowds unless they were trying to escape a war zone. Ironically, that seemed to be fairly close to the case here.

  A man with two screaming children stalked past, his cart filled to overflowing with cereals that Wolfe had never heard of. A few lanes over half a dozen teenage boys with pierced noses and purple hair were arguing with half a dozen teenage girls with pierced noses and blue hair. Cars circled and crept down one row and up another, jockeying for any available parking spaces.

  Wolfe rubbed his neck, aware of how alien the normal working world had become for him. “I can change out here and keep an eye on the dogs at the same time. You go ahead and run your errands.”

  “Are you sure? Baby should be fine. She usually recovers fast.” Kit shook her head when she saw the puppy in question perched behind the front seat, her nose nearly touching Wolfe’s shoulder.

  “Don’t worry,” he said calmly. “I’m pretty good with animals, trust me.”

  “I don’t know. They may whine when I leave.” Kit opened her door slowly.

  None of the dogs paid the slightest attention. Butch nudged past Baby, then raised his head to lick Wolfe’s chin.

  Shaking her head, she grabbed her purse. “Or not.”

  THE JEEP WAS EMPTY when Kit returned fifteen minutes later.

  At least it looked empty. When she turned the corner, she saw that the rear door was open and the dogs were lined up in a row, all panting, their heads hanging out the back.

  Wolfe was squeezed in between them, looking completely content as he scratched Baby’s head with one hand and Butch’s stomach with the other. He also appeared to be scanning the parking lot.

  She held up a shopping bag. “All done. Next stop, Pet Land.” She noticed that Wolfe was wearing a clean shirt and pants. “You managed to change, I see. I’m impressed. But I still can’t believe how quickly the dogs have taken to you. No barking, not even a growl or two. They’ve never done that before.”

  Wolfe reached down and scratched Sundance under the chin. Not wanting to be left out, Baby squeezed in closer for her share of the petting. “We got along just fine, didn’t we, guys?”

  No kidding. He was good with animals, Kit thought. In a minute she’d have to remind them she was here.

  “What’s this other store like?”

  “Pet Land is the best place in the world to buy anything for your pet. Even though it’s thirty minutes away, it’s worth the drive.” She frowned at the oncoming traffic. “Unfortunately, it’s Friday night.”

  “What’s wrong with Friday?”

  “Everyone’s out. Brace yourself. It’s going to be a war zone in there.”

  WOLFE THOUGHT she was using a figure of speech.

  War as noisy, gleaming spectacle.

  War as smoke and adrenaline. Civilians did it all the time, he thought grimly. Their assumptions about combat usually came from the latest hit movie or eight-minute CNN interview. But the fact was, you couldn’t understand combat unless you’d been there, cordite burning acrid in your throat, every nerve juiced by fear while you went deaf from shoulder-fired antitank grenade launchers blazing all around you.

  What could Kit know about war zones?

  Then she took a corner and he counted about two hundred dusty pickup trucks and gleaming new Volvos jammed side-by-side in the crowded parking lot, with more cars overflowing onto the nearby side streets. There were kids crying and parents shouting and dogs barking.

  Maybe there was something to this analogy of hers.

  At first he’d tried to talk her out of the errand, but Baby needed a new training leash and Kit wanted a special chew toy to cheer Diesel up when he came home from the clinic.

  More trucks pulled up, music blaring. A car drove along the row, bouncing up and down in time to the music.

  Houston, you’ve been out of things here at home for way too long.

  “I need to take Baby inside with me to make sure her leash fits properly. Dogs on leashes are allowed in the store, so you could bring the other dogs in, too.”

  He rubbed his neck. “I think we’ll sit this dance out.”

  “Are you sure?” She snapped a leash on Baby and opened the door. “You look a little pale.”

  Wolfe watched a poodle in white booties and a rhinestone jacket that spelled out Elvis. His owner was dressed in matching attire.

  If the sensory overload hadn’t been so noticeable, the whole scene would have been amusing. As things were, it was going to be a long night.

  TWENTY MINUTES LATER Butch and Sundance were walking restless circles in the back of the Jeep, and at every pass they stopped to nudge Wolfe’s arm. Dogs of all shapes and colors had come and gone, but there was still no sign of Kit and Baby.

  As Wolfe sat warily, trying to decide whether to take the other dogs inside, Butch barked once and dug beneath a pile of blankets in the back of the Jeep. He emerged with a leash, which he dropped on Wolfe’s lap. Seconds later Sundance dropped a matching leash beside the first one.

  “Two to one, guys. No fair doubling up on me.”

  Butch looked out the back window of the Jeep, then barked sharply. He picked up the leash and shook it hard, his eyes like laser sights. On instinct, Wolfe focused, trying to read the source of the dog’s anxiety.

  The minutes stretched out. He didn’t move, staring at Butch, waiting.

  Nothing came across. Not one speck.

  Which was a little odd. Wolfe could usually pick up at least a few stray images here and there when he scanned the people around him. On the other hand, none of the team had ever worked specifically with animals, so the result didn’t entirely surprise him.

  After another quick scan of the parking lot, he gave in. “Okay, you two win. Let’s roll. Tight formation.” He snapped on the leashes and checked to see if anyone paid undue attention to him or to the dogs. Satisfied that everything was normal, he locked the car and looked down at his excited companions. “Brace for contact, troops. This could get nasty.”

  Especially if there were any other Elvis impersonators in the area.

  Shopping carts were backed up
by the dozens as irritated pet owners argued over flea powder and kibble. Zoo was definitely an understatement.

  Where the heck were Kit and Baby?

  Wolfe looked around at the flashing lights while music blasted from the big front doors. Shrill announcements spit like gunfire from a tinny loudspeaker. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a store so big. Even standing outside the entrance and looking in put his senses on overdrive. He could face Stinger missiles and AK-47s, but the chaos of Pet Land figured nowhere in his field training.

  Ignoring a beagle wearing a red baseball cap, he wiped a bead of sweat off his neck. “I can do this. What’s so frightening about a bunch of crazy pet owners and a whole lot of noise?”

  Butch barked once, staring out into the parking lot. When Wolfe followed the direction of the dog’s gaze, he saw nothing but a sea of cars. Then Sundance moved closer, pressed against his opposite leg and growled.

  Wolfe pulled out his secure cell phone and punched in two numbers.

  Izzy Teague answered on the first ring. “Joe’s Flower Shop. Roses to go.”

  “Very funny, Teague. I’m at Pet Land with the dogs.”

  “Say again?”

  “Pet Land, you heard me. Kit’s inside with Baby, and I’ve got the other dogs leashed here at the door. But they’re acting odd, very restless about something. I need you to check out the parking lot without calling any attention to yourself.”

  “No problem. I can do low profile or high profile.”

  “Definitely low.”

  “On my way.”

  A motion caught Wolfe’s eye. “Take some pictures, too. We may turn up that missing car belonging to the waitress.”

  “Afraid not. It was found abandoned off the freeway outside Albuquerque.”

  Wolfe ran a hand slowly along Sundance’s back. The puppy was motionless, staring down a row crowded with cars. “I’m taking the dogs inside. I can guarantee you that someone’s out here. Focus on the fifth row with the green Subaru.”

  “I’m on it. Watch your six.”

  As he walked inside the crowded store, Wolfe fought an odd compulsion to turn and stare back into the parking lot. The urge came from nowhere, sudden and brutal in its intensity. He was instantly certain it was Cruz, probing his defenses and preparing for an attack.

  Either his ex-team leader’s original skills had grown exponentially or the government had been developing some new techniques with Cruz. Either way, the situation spelled danger.

  Inside the front door, a man cut Wolfe off with a cart, and a German Shepherd nearly peed on his foot while his owner laughed.

  Not good for the first twenty seconds.

  He hadn’t gone two feet more when a small dog with trailing white hair and a red satin bow blocked his way, barking incessantly in short, shrill bursts that Butch answered with stunning disdain.

  “Good dog,” Wolfe muttered. “This is just ground fire. Ignore it, buddy.” But the white dog kept barking.

  Wolfe guided the Labs away, turning down the nearest aisle. Trying to ignore the chaos of noise, color and motion around him, he scanned the shelves, stocked high with rhinestone dog collars and puppy diapers.

  Puppy diapers?

  The world had definitely changed since he’d been recruited for Foxfire. Looking around, he felt like Rip Van Winkle starting to wake up, and the experience wasn’t pleasant.

  Butch and Sundance didn’t move, taking in the chaos with calm interest. Their behavior made Wolfe smile. “She did a damn good job on you two guys, didn’t she?”

  Sundance’s tail gave three quick wags.

  “Okay, let’s move before we suffer another hostile response.” He headed toward the center of the store in search of Kit, wondering how there could be so many different colors of leashes. And who in the hell needed sixty varieties of dog food?

  At the next corner, he nearly tripped over a tiny Pekinese who had pulled away from its owner and raced under his feet. When he turned around, a blonde with a tight T-shirt cut to showcase about five inches of naked stomach was looking his way. Her eyes narrowed. Smiling, she wiggled a little so that her jeans slipped lower and the T-shirt slid higher.

  It had been months since he’d had a normal social interaction in a civilian situation, and the standard protocols were a little dim. As the blonde waved at him and crossed the aisle, he gave a wary smile. Before he could take evasive maneuvers, she’d blocked his path.

  “Wow, what cute puppies. And they’re so well behaved.” She wiggled again, making the jeans slip even lower. “I can’t reach the dog treats. I hate it when they put them so high.” She looked down, showing some cleavage and making kissing noises at Butch and Sundance. “I’ll be glad to hold these gorgeous puppies if you wouldn’t mind. It will only take you a second.”

  “I wish I could help, ma’am.” Wolfe glanced around, but there was still no sign of Kit. He tightened his hold on the leashes. “I’m afraid my puppies aren’t very good with strangers. Sorry.” He gave a little shrug to soften the refusal, but the blonde flounced off in search of new prey.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Kit came around the corner with Baby. Under one arm she had two boxes of puppy vitamins and a new leash.

  “She wanted help to reach something. I didn’t want to give her the leashes and it got her steamed.” Wolfe stared at a display with two plastic dogs that ran back and forth in a line, promoting a new brand of dog shampoo. He wasn’t sure if he was amused or revolted.

  “Is something wrong?” Kit frowned at him. “The other dogs didn’t throw up on you, I hope.”

  “No, they were great. Their training is excellent.”

  “Then what? It’s like you’ve never been in a pet store before.”

  Wolfe tried to shut out the barrage of distracting stimuli. He ignored two men arguing over choke chains. He even managed to ignore a display of talking dog diapers. The truth was, he’d never been in a store that was remotely like this. Kit had no way of knowing that, of course, and he wasn’t about to discuss his Foxfire training and private life with her.

  He waved a hand. “It’s…big,” he said.

  She was still looking at him, eyes narrowed. “That’s why everyone comes here to shop. One stop does it all.” She walked over to a huge pyramid display built with cat food cans. “The prices are also twenty percent cheaper than the neighborhood store. How can you beat that?”

  A boy ran past her, pushing a child-size cart and racing as only an out-of-control six-year-old can run. His mother followed grimly, holding the hand of a younger boy. “Benjamin, stop. Come back here right now.”

  The boy speeded up, his cart whipping past boxes and shelves. He was watching the talking diaper display, mesmerized, when his cart hit the pyramid of canned goods full force. The structure shook and then the top can fell sideways.

  A dozen more cans shook free and plummeted, only inches away from the oblivious child.

  Wolfe sprinted along the aisle. As the whole structure began to shake, he swept the boy under one arm and turned, catching the wave of falling cans against his shoulders. He also managed to grab a piece of defective metal shelving that appeared to be the cause of the problem.

  All around him men were shouting and dogs were barking, but he barely noticed. He was still holding the boy against his chest when the explosion of cans hitting the floor finally stopped.

  Silence fell. Then came a few muted questions. Seconds later he was surrounded by people pounding his back, asking if he was okay and was the boy hurt and how had he reacted so fast? Wolfe didn’t understand why they were so concerned. He held out the boy to his mother, then tried to move away but he was caught fast as the harried woman cried and laughed at the same time, hugging her son and trying to hug Wolfe, who was at least a foot taller than she was.

  Solemn and a little unsteady, the boy held out a smashed piece of candy bar. Wolfe eyed the bar, eyed the little boy, and then took a bite of the chocolate. “That’s good stuff you’ve got there, pal. But
maybe you should go back to your mommy now. I think she’s worried.” He winked at the boy. “You know how women can be.”

  The boy nodded gravely, his eyes huge.

  When Wolfe turned to walk away, the crowd of curious onlookers parted in respectful silence. Then a man with a store uniform called out to him. “Man, you were greased lightning when you grabbed that kid. You play football or something?”

  Or something.

  Wolfe shrugged, uncomfortable at the attention. When he reached Kit’s side, he took Butch’s leash and walked toward the front of the store without looking back.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” he said calmly. “Can we go?”`

  Kit hurried to keep up with him. “How did you move so fast?”

  He strode down the row of cars toward her Jeep, studying the area for any unusual activity. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about. But if you want to play games about it, fine,” she said flatly.

  “Kit, I—”

  “Never mind. You don’t owe me an explanation.” Her voice tightened. “In fact, you don’t owe me anything at all.” Her shoulders were straight, her body stiff as she walked past him, holding the dogs’ leashes tightly.

  Baby turned once, gave a quick wag of her tail and blinked her big eyes.

  Almost like she was sympathizing.

  Wolfe was almost sure that was impossible.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “WHAT’S THE PROBLEM?” Wolfe frowned as Kit pulled out of the parking lot in a hail of gravel. She was staring straight ahead, her mouth a tight line.

  He couldn’t figure her out. Why would she expect him to talk about what he’d done? It was simple training and reflexes, nothing that made him a hero.

  Besides, he’d messed up by getting himself noticed.

  “You’re modest about saving that little boy, and I can understand that. But when I ask you what’s wrong—bam, you bite my head off. Of course, I’m upset.” She took a deep breath. “Who are you, Wolfe? I look at you and I see a complete stranger.”