Code Name: Bundle!

by Christina Skye

  “I’ll be here. Max, about tonight—”

  “Forget it. It’s history.”

  She was dulled by the flatness of his voice. “I’d like to go through the rest of those photographs. I may be able to spot another anomaly—assuming that you still trust me.”

  Hs face locked down, without any expression. “Be my guest. You’ll be safe here if you do what I say.”

  Miki didn’t believe him. She had a feeling that things were about to get a whole lot worse, and her life wouldn’t be simple ever again. She couldn’t go back. Even if she never saw him again, this silent, hard man would always be part of her life.

  Talk about colossal mistakes.

  A cold voice whispered that taking risks was this man’s job. Danger was his high, and death was part of his resume.

  She didn’t have any idea what kind of danger he was facing, and she might never know. She watched him shoulder his pack, her heart beating hard. It felt as if she lost a part of herself when he walked away.

  He didn’t look back, a shadow swallowed up by the night.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  ISHMAEL TEAGUE WAS EATING a tuna fish sandwich with wasabi and organic bean sprouts when the signal came through. He dropped his sandwich and lunged for his radio receiver, listening intently.

  Not that listening mattered. There was an automatic recorder in place so that nothing would be lost.

  The signal was clear. Two bursts of six separated by a twenty-second pause, according to the pre-arranged code. Probable weapon system sighting.

  Izzy played the short-burst message through five times, just to be sure. Each time was the same.

  There was no mistake.

  Max Preston was close to his target, and that would make Lloyd Ryker ecstatic. But something continued to nag at Izzy. He leaned forward and punched a string of commands into a keyboard, then sat back impatiently. As a security caution, he had entered speed and strength parameters for all incoming messages, and he had already input Max’s movement and strength variables. Now he sat frowning, wasabi and bean sprouts forgotten as he waited for his computer to compare the two sets of data.

  The computer finally gave an answer. The sender of the message was not Max Preston.

  From what Max had said, the pilot was too sick to do anything. That left only the woman, Miki Fortune. Izzy sat back and steepled his fingers. Then he picked up his phone to call Ryker.

  The Foxfire director was not going to be happy.

  KIT O’HALLORAN WAS UP to her elbows in soapsuds, giving Baby a bath. The baby in question, an exuberant black Lab puppy, whimpered in pleasure as Kit scratched her soft ears. They had been out before dawn, practicing search and rescue procedures in the nearby mountains. After six hours of mixed work and play, Kit was bone tired.

  Meanwhile, Baby and Kit’s three other Labs were as fresh as they had been at dawn. Life wasn’t fair, she thought wryly.

  She smiled at the sound of paws charging over the patio behind her. All she had to do was think about Baby’s three litter mates and they appeared an instant later. Right on schedule, Diesel, Butch and Sundance raced through a bar of sunlight and skidded to a stop at her feet.

  In the middle of the big copper tub, surrounded by soap foam, Baby glanced down imperiously, every inch the leader of this canine team. As Kit ran an expert eye along the puppies’ lustrous fur, she was pleased by what she saw. Her newest feed mix was working better than she’d hoped.

  She couldn’t resist a small surge of pride for these four special dogs. All the service dogs she trained showed exceptional curiosity, loyalty and stamina, but these four had skills that went right off the charts.

  No one in the government would give her too many details about the dogs’ bloodlines, since they came out of a classified government program, and Kit accepted the possibility that she might never know. Even Wolfe Houston, the Navy SEAL she was going to marry—as soon as he stopped flying around the world on top-secret missions—could add little additional information. But Kit didn’t need government files or medical reports. She had trained her first dog when she was nine years old, and she knew a champion when she saw one.

  These four were all champions.

  She leaned over to scratch Diesel’s head. “Aunt Miki says that I spoil you guys and she’s probably right.” She turned away to look for a brush and Diesel shot away. When the dog returned, he was carrying a red Hawaiian shirt in his teeth.

  The shirt belonged to Miki, who had left it behind after her last visit to Kit’s ranch.

  Was this another coincidence, or did Diesel truly understand more than Kit realized? All four dogs had a range of comprehension that was astounding, and their knowledge grew every day. Even more surprising was their ability to work, think and plan as a team, something Kit had never seen in her years as a trainer. That ability had saved her life several months earlier, and Kit knew that with the right training, the dogs would go on to handle any kind of challenge the government could throw at them.

  She didn’t want to think about the dangers they would face. She didn’t want to imagine the day they would leave her care. Kit knew perfectly well that she couldn’t keep the dogs forever, playing and training on the sunny slopes of her mountain ranch north of Santa Fe. But oh, how she wished she could. The day they left she would feel as if her heart had been torn out.

  But life meant transitions. Wolfe always said that changes were good, but it usually took time and perspective to see that.

  Her husband-to-be, the philosopher-warrior.

  A sudsy Baby shot forward in the water, licking Kit’s face eagerly, and soap went flying across the sunny patio. Kit didn’t mind a bit. The dogs were her life as much as her career. At least now she had a man to share that life with.

  Kit had loved Wolfe Houston as a teenager when he came to live with her family. She loved him now as a woman, with no reservations and no regrets. If the man would just stop crisscrossing the globe, saving civilization as they knew it, she was going to haul him down to the local courthouse and marry him. Miki had volunteered to take the wedding photos, and Kit was already dreaming of an uninterrupted honeymoon spent in her family’s isolated cabin north of Chama.

  She didn’t think they’d make it out of bed once.

  But the world was an unsafe place, and her fiancé seemed busier than ever keeping it safe. With a pang of loneliness Kit closed her eyes, wondering where Wolfe was at that moment. A training mission in Thailand? Surveillance in the Middle East?

  She worried about him every minute of every day, but she kept her fear in perspective through sheer effort of will. He’d come back when he could, and when he came, she would make up for all the lost hours. They might even have time for a quick stop at the courthouse on his next visit. She ran a hand through her hair, smiling crookedly at the thought of Wolfe’s reaction to her wedding dress.

  Miki had found it first, of course. Because she was a photographer, Miki followed fashion with the detached but expert eye that could separate trends from keepers. The dress she’d found hugged Kit’s body in a slim column of antique white lace, drifting gracefully when she walked, and the back was cut well below the waist. Talk about sexy.

  Kit hoped that Wolfe’s first glimpse hit him like a jack-hammer. She had loved him for too many years to take the thought of their marriage lightly. It was only fair that he should be as hot and bothered as she was by the reality.

  Sunlight streamed over the patio, dancing off the smooth surface of the pool as Kit dreamed about specific—and highly graphic—ways she would drive Wolfe crazy in bed. Suddenly Baby shot to her feet in the tub, tail wagging. Diesel barked once, then sat down alertly next to Kit while the other two dogs moved in wary circles through the grass.

  Had they sensed some new threat? It seemed like a lifetime ago that Kit had faced down a ruthless killer here. Now she wondered if that old danger had come back to stalk her.

  Baby rested her paws on the side of the metal tub, her tail wagging wildly. In on
e movement she kicked hard, sailing onto the flagstones in a blur of wet fur.

  “Baby, stop. Your bath isn’t finished.”

  Diesel shot past. “Diesel, stay. Baby, heel.”

  Furry bodies raced in circles around her. Though young, the puppies were already well trained, and they usually responded to Kit’s commands instantly.

  But not this time. Something was definitely wrong. The dogs were quivering with excitement, staring toward the adobe fence that circled the side of the house.

  Wind played over the back of Kit’s neck, tossing leaves through the sunlight. The dogs didn’t move, listening to something that Kit couldn’t hear. Another cougar?

  Suddenly Baby shot across the yard, grabbed a well-chewed stick between her teeth, and bulleted back to the patio, as if the threat had vanished. Kit took the stick and sighed in relief. These four were better than any alarm system, though Wolfe had insisted on installing one on his last visit. “Baby, let me finish brushing you, honey. Then we can play fetch.”

  Baby’s tail banged on the wet bricks. The puppy gave a single high-pitched bark and then tugged the stick out of Kit’s fingers, racing off to join her litter-mates. The four of them sat panting in a neat row, their eyes on the adobe wall. Thinking and acting like a team, Kit thought.

  Suddenly, a black duffel bag came flying through the air, followed by a Frisbee. A second later Wolfe Houston climbed nimbly over the top of the wall and dropped lightly onto the patio.

  Wolfe?

  Kit ran an unsteady hand through her hair and tried to brush foam off her chest and cheeks. Typical of a man to give her no warning. Typical of her to look like she’d been rolling around with the puppies.

  Which she had.

  She was surprised that the dogs hadn’t rocketed across the yard and mobbed him. There was generally a canine riot whenever he appeared. But this time Wolfe was watching the dogs, a little smile on his face, and if Kit hadn’t known better, she would have thought the five of them were having a silent conversation, which was beyond crazy, of course.

  Then every other thought was forgotten as Wolfe sprinted toward her and caught her in his arms. “Forget about the suds and the water all over your jeans, honey. You’d look good enough to eat soaked in mud and crude oil.” His eyes narrowed. “Now there’s a kinky thought. Maybe we should try that sometime.”

  Before he could say anything more, Kit wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a fierce, searching kiss, fueled by memories of their last night together a month earlier. When she finally ran out of breath and pulled away, Wolfe was sweating and his eyes were dark.

  “How about we ditch this lunatic crew and find somewhere private so I can really say hello?”

  Baby threaded her body between his legs while Diesel pushed his nose in expectantly. Then Butch and Sundance shoved their way between the other dogs until Wolfe and Kit were surrounded.

  “Outflanked and outgunned before we took one step,” Kit said, laughing. “I think they’re as glad to see you as I am.” She bit his lips, her fingers trailing along his chest. “Almost as glad.”

  Wolfe cleared his throat. “I’m dying here, honey. I may not have a lot of time, so—”

  As he took a step back, Baby shot under his feet. Seconds later he and Kit plunged backwards into the swimming pool. When they came up for air, Wolfe pulled her into his arms and swept damp hair out of her face. “I think we just got suckered.”

  “No doubt about it.” Kit blinked, brushing water out of her eyes. “Sometimes I can’t believe what they do. Yesterday I was ready to drive into town, but Baby kept running around to the back of my truck, jumping up on the fender. I finally realized she had her paws on the gas tank.” Kit hesitated. “You’re not going to believe this.”

  “Try me, honey.”

  “I was nearly out of gas. How she sensed a thing like that is beyond me.” Kit frowned. “Do you think it was a coincidence?”

  Wolfe watched Baby cavort over the yarn. “Maybe she figured out that the gasoline smell wasn’t as intense as usual. I don’t have to tell you how sharp their olfac-tory sense is.” He watched Baby lean over the edge of the pool and drop the Frisbee in Kit’s lap.

  “I think they want to play.” There was an edge of uncertainty in Kit’s voice as she studied his face. “Will you be here long?”

  “I’m afraid not. I needed to meet someone in town, and I carved out a little time first.” Something dark filled Wolfe’s eyes. “They’ll pick me up in two hours.” He ran his fingers through her hair. “It’s the most I could manage. Things are a little…complicated right now.”

  Kit forced herself not to ask about her brother, a member of Wolfe’s unit. The rules of their dangerous work demanded absolute secrecy, and she knew she was lucky he’d told her anything.

  “Have you heard anything from your friend Miki?”

  “I had a postcard ten days ago, postmarked from Maui. Otherwise, nothing. Funny, she was supposed to e-mail me from Tahiti.” Kit’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you ask?”

  Wolfe raised his hands protectively. “I’m not allowed to ask an idle question?”

  “I’m not sure.” Kit wrapped her hand around his collar and pulled him through the water toward the edge of the pool, her eyes full of challenge. “But we don’t have time for chitchat. I think we’ll start in the kitchen.”

  “Why? I’m not hungry,” Wolfe said hoarsely.

  “Who said anything about eating?” Kit yanked off his shirt and ran her fingers along his chest. “The kitchen table will be good. After that, there’s the sheepskin rug in front of the fireplace. With luck, we might even make it upstairs to the bedroom before you collapse.”

  “Who’s going to collapse?” Wolfe shoved down the zipper on her sweatshirt while Kit vainly tried to reach his belt. They left a trail of wet footprints and scattered clothes as they made their way across the patio.

  Behind them in the afternoon sunlight the four dogs sat in a watchful row, ears alert, sensitive to every movement. As the low laughter faded upstairs, Baby shot across the patio, tail wagging. The black puppy bumped noses with Diesel in what had to be the canine equivalent of a high-five. Then the four dogs took up their posts at each corner of the yard.

  Keeping watch over the two people they loved most.

  KIT RAN HER HAND ALONG Wolfe’s gorgeous chest and sighed lazily. “I can’t move.”

  Wolfe slid his arm around her protectively. He had come damn close to losing her several months earlier, when Enrique Cruz had made his break from a secret Foxfire facility near Los Alamos. Wolfe’s work had put Kit in grave danger, and it was hard for him to live with that guilt. Yet he knew what Kit did not: her four special dogs made her risk even greater. After a lengthy argument, Lloyd Ryker had agreed to install a high-tech surveillance system at Kit’s ranch, constantly monitored from the Foxfire command center. Between the surveillance system and what he had seen of her dogs’ growing skills, Wolfe knew that Kit was in excellent hands.

  Or excellent paws, to be exact.

  He rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him, staring at the bruise on her rib. “What happened here?”

  “We were practicing jumps in the wash and a boulder slipped. I fell a few feet.”

  Wolfe traced the bruise, frowning. “You need to be more careful.”

  “Explain that to my dogs.” Kit’s eyes narrowed. “I hope you aren’t telling me how to do my job.”

  Wolfe cupped her hips, sliding her against his hard thighs. After a moment he sighed. “Point taken. I’ll shut up.”

  “Good. Let’s forget about my bruise. I notice you’ve got a few new ones yourself.” When Wolfe nudged open her legs, Kit’s voice became a husky croak. “How do you do this? You’re grinning like the Cheshire cat, ready to start all over again.” She closed her eyes, sighing as she felt the intimate brush of his hands. “Don’t you ever get tired?”

  “Not where you’re concerned.” Wolfe’s eyes were dark with need. He wanted her agai
n, hard and fast. He would never have enough of her.

  Kit seemed to have the same thing in mind. Laughing, she drove her heels into the scattered quilts, twisted to her side and pulled him on top of her.

  Sunlight spilled through her hair, danced over her shoulders, reflected in her vibrant eyes. Wolfe had never seen anything more beautiful. Their bodies met, teased, and desire flared back to life, even though they had made love in three different locations before they’d made their way to Kit’s bedroom.

  He knew how much it cost her not to ask questions about her brother. He also suspected that she and her friend Miki were cooking up some kind of plan. The last time he’d been here, Miki had shoved something white into a big box and pushed it back out of sight in the closet.

  Wolfe was almost positive it had been a wedding dress.

  He couldn’t think of anything he wanted more. He’d marry Kit in a heartbeat, except for one small problem.

  Foxfire.

  The oath of loyalty he had made to his country meant that all personal relationships had to undergo scrutiny of the team, and Ryker had met Wolfe’s first request with stony silence. Over the days that followed, Ryker had said nothing more, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. Wolfe had already decided to press for an answer when he returned. But marriage meant potential security risks and emotional complications, things that Ryker was determined to avoid at all cost.

  In spite of that, Wolfe couldn’t see any real reason that two sane, mature people couldn’t tie the knot. Maintaining a long-distance marriage wouldn’t be easy, but Wolfe was determined to make it work.

  Kit’s nails raked his back. “Daydreaming, Navy? You must get bored fast. Here I am, naked and available, and you’re thinking about tactical training manuals.”

  “Not a chance.” Wolfe’s hands tightened on her shoulders. He leaned down, nipping a wet path over her stomach until Kit squirmed. She wrapped her legs around his waist, driving their bodies together while Wolfe tried to keep his mind in one piece.

  A dull whine came from the middle of the bedroom floor.