“It’s not about money,” she said, her tone softer this time.
“It’s about me, right? That’s too long to be around me.”
“Why would you think that?”
He shook his head. “I, uh, never mind.”
She turned toward the house in what he viewed as silent reflection. Maybe still considering his comment.
“Don’t make a decision now. If it makes you feel better, I’ll have some people on standby who can help out if you need to leave.”
Rory slowly faced him, shielding her eyes from the sun.
“But please, give us a chance.” He dropped down in front of Bear and gently held on to the sides of his head. “I mean, how can you resist this face?” When Chris twisted his neck back to catch her eyes again, a smile touched her lips.
“There’s going to be a lot to do. Teaching him how to sniff out explosives and people. Then there are the takedowns. You also have to build a rapport. A bond.”
Chris kept one hand on Bear, softly stroking his mane. “You’re more worried about whether I’ll be obedient than him, huh?”
“Maybe.” She smiled. “More like yes.”
He returned his attention to Bear. “But we’ve got this, right, buddy?” Chris reached for his paw and shook it. “We can show her you’ve got what it takes to be a Teamguy.”
“Dog,” Rory corrected, and he swiveled his head to peer at her again, the sun still beating down, making her mass of blonde hair golden and shimmery. “Right. Team dog.” But then a depressing thought occurred to him. With a heavy sigh, he let go of Bear and stood. “I just don’t know if I can send him in to clear houses or check for explosives and risk something happening to him. Look at how innocent he is.”
“How often did dogs save you guys in Iraq? Afghanistan? How many lives were saved because of our hero dogs?”
Chris sealed his eyes closed, a memory ripping through his mind. “Jupiter was an awesome dog. He went into a house,” he said around a swallow and opened his eyes, “and he never came out.”
“I’m sorry.” She stepped closer and set a hand to his shoulder, a soft, comforting look in her hazel irises. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through.”
“It takes a special kind of animal to be a CAD.”
“Combat assault dog,” she said with a nod.
“It’s hard to stomach the idea of putting Bear’s life on the line, though. I mean, the guys I work with, we rush into danger, never knowing if we’ll make it back out, but we knowingly signed up for that, but the dogs—”
“The competition for SEAL canines is almost as fierce as going through BUD/S from what I’ve heard, so I assume those dogs wanted to be on the Teams, or they would have purposefully failed out. So, in a way, they signed up, too.”
She was trying to make him feel better, but she was also right about the canine selection for the Teams. “I’ve always wanted a dog. They’re loyal. They don’t abandon you. Maybe the only animal that loves you more than themselves.” He let go of a deep breath, and it felt like a bunch of pent-up shit went with it. “I mean, my friends are loyal. Of course. And . . .”
“Trust me, I get it.” Rory peered at Bear. “There’s a reason I love animals and am fiercely protective of them. I worked at a rescue shelter every summer while in high school in Birmingham. Some of the animals . . . broke my heart. But every time a Belgian Malinois was brought in, and that was a rare instance, well, I’d swear my heart sang around them.” Rory crouched to observe Bear.
Could this woman get any better? Damn.
“Belgian Malinoises are great. Medium-sized build. Slender and athletic.” Bear tipped his snout toward her face as he lay with paws crossed in the grassy area. “Intelligent and alert. Protective. Some say these dogs are the secret weapon at the White House. I guess y’all would know, given Knox’s dad.”
Chris knelt alongside her again, resting his forearms on his jeaned thighs. “You know, I heard Cairo’s handler fed Cairo steak and let him sleep in his bed, too. And Cairo was brought on the bin Laden raid,” he deflected, hoping to shift the conversation away from the subject of POTUS or what Chris and the guys may or may not know about what went on at the White House. “I even think Cairo was more laid-back than most dogs. Sweet disposition when he didn’t have to tear up an enemy. So, I’m betting you’re like Cairo,” he said, changing his voice as if talking to a baby, and Bear released a happy yelp of pleasure.
“Maybe one of these days.” Rory snatched a tennis ball, rose, and tossed it, sending Bear to his feet and shooting across the field as the ball arced and bounced. “But first, you need to establish your relationship as his handler. The pack leader always sleeps on higher ground.”
“Be the alpha.” Chris folded his arms and watched Bear trotting back toward them. Bear set the ball down, his pink tongue lolling out of his mouth with what looked like a grin on his face.
“Roughhousing and tug-of-war teach Bear it’s okay to challenge your authority. Fun, even,” she said before throwing the ball again. “I think you both might need the four P’s: praise, patience, practice, and prevention.”
“I do love a little praise.” He side-eyed her and winked, and she swatted his arm.
Chris was well aware of the four P’s. And everything he’d done wrong with Bear before showing up to request her help in New Orleans. She’d called him on his act straight up—an attempt to lure her into coming by making it appear he wasn’t capable of handling Bear without her.
“Results should happen within seven to nine seconds of a verbal command, or hand signal, or he won’t be able to connect the dots.”
“I think you’ve used that tactic on me,” he joked, then grabbed the ball Bear returned and threw it, far enough to send it beyond the fence. He watched with surprise as Bear bounded right over without much effort.
“Anyway,” she said, teasing the word out through glossy lips.
“I know Bear can do this, and so can I.” Chris added a confident nod. “Those who want something the most get it done.”
“And that’s you, huh?”
“From my experience, the most successful people in life are those who take ownership of their choices and their actions. They accept responsibility for the consequences, whatever they might be, without placing blame. The SEALs have a saying, ‘Do today what others won’t so you can achieve tomorrow what others can’t.’” He lifted his shoulders as he delivered the words Bravo and Echo Teams lived by every day. “That’s what most of us Teamguys believe, at least.”
“And what do you believe?” she whispered, eyes set on his, locked in the moment. The sun was shining, the blades of grass were bright green, and an orchestra of crickets chirped somewhere in the woods out back. The universe was absolutely freaking perfect right now.
“‘He who has a why to live can bear almost any how.’” He swallowed at the sight of her dragging a hand down the center of her chest, her fingers dipping to her cleavage.
“You just quote Nietzsche?” Her question had him pulling his focus back where it belonged.
“Do I look like a guy who quotes Nietzsche?” His brows rose, then he accepted the ball from Bear and threw it again.
“You don’t have to do that,” she said softly. “Pretend to be less intelligent than you are,” she went on. “I don’t know why you do it, but—”
“I’m just a kid from Southie,” he cut her off. “Only a high school diploma to my name. Graduate of the School of Hard Knocks.”
“Chris.” Her eyes locked on his, and the look on her face had his heart racing. A commanding, take-no-prisoners expression that said she wasn’t going to take any more of his bullshit, which he was used to serving. Nope, she wasn’t letting him get away with it.
“How about this one—‘Sometimes people don’t want to hear the truth because they don’t want their illusions destroyed,’” he tossed out another Nietzsche, then dragged in a breath, preparing to deliver one more for good measure before this woman peeled back every d
amn layer he’d constructed over the years to keep himself safe. “‘There are no beautiful surfaces without a terrible depth.’” That quote had always resonated with him. Chris wasn’t so sure his surfaces could be defined as beautiful, but he knew there was a terrible fucking depth beneath it all, beneath what made him the way he was today.
When Chris’s back was to her, she reached for his bicep. “You can talk to me. You can be you when you’re with me. I’d prefer to see the real you, to be honest. I mean, I love fun-loving Chris, but I’m interested in the man behind all of that.” There was an achy plea to her tone that nearly had him spinning around to kiss that ache away.
But he hung his head instead. “I was failing school before I was sixteen. Not because I’m an idiot, but because I didn’t care.”
“What made you start caring?” she asked instead of pressing him to open up about why he’d not given a damn.
He looked back at her from over his shoulder. “That might be a story for another time.” He let go of a deep breath, allowing the memories of the past to float with it before pivoting to catch her eyes. “I read a lot while in the Navy. Studied people who had interesting lives. Tried to be the person I always should have been instead of the person I’d let myself become.”
She frowned, but it didn’t appear to come from a place of pity. “So, why the act now?”
“Sometimes I slip into a role because it’s just easier,” he confessed. At least that’s what a therapist had told him during his mandated session after Marcus’s death. “Every team needs some comic relief. Finn and I are usually up for that challenge. It works.”
“And is Finn putting on an act, too?”
He thought about his buddy and the struggles he’d gone through in his own life. “Maybe. But we are funny. I mean . . .” He was on the verge of making light of his behavior again, but then he tensed. Wow, did it happen so often he didn’t realize he was even doing it anymore? And here Rory was, seeing right through him.
Bear trotted up and angled his head back and forth between them, waiting for one of them to throw the ball.
“Nothing wrong with humor.” She tossed the ball for Bear. “I just think you’re a really great guy. A funny, compassionate, and smart guy, and I’d like to get to know all of you, not just the person you let people see. The one you seem more comfortable sharing.”
“Why does it matter? You set the conditions of this arrangement, and your rules were pretty clear.”
Rory’s gaze dropped to Bear when he returned, the lines of her body drawing tight. Had that thought dawned on her, too? If she prodded, he might push back?
She reached for Bear’s collar and clipped him into his lead, and Bear stared at Rory with keen eyes, then looked to Chris. The dog was perceptive. He sensed the tension.
Chris opened his mouth to say more, but he refrained at the sight of Roman’s Ford F-150 pulling into the driveway. Finn and Roman hopped out of the truck and started their way, moving with quick steps. They had to be there for work.
“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” Finn began on approach. “Can we have a minute?” He jerked his thumb toward the truck.
Chris turned back to Rory. “Sorry, um, be right back.”
“No problem. I’ll work on a few more commands with Bear. He needs a break soon, anyway.” She waved to Roman and Finn, then Chris hurried toward the truck where the guys had gone back to wait for him.
“How’s it going?” Roman asked in a low voice.
Chris motioned for the guys to follow him into the detached garage at the side of the house for privacy. “It’s going okay. What’s up, though? Why the glum looks?”
Finn removed his sunglasses and hung them on the neckline of his black tee. “Remember Snake Guy?”
“Of course.” That was barely a week ago. And he didn’t need the reminder of all those freaking snakes—that image would haunt him for a lifetime.
“Santiago was being transferred to a CIA black site in Maryland when the vehicle was ambushed yesterday,” Roman said. “He’s in the wind. Maybe an inside job. Everyone is looking for him, but since this was our capture, we’re thinking we might need to follow up. Provide an assist.”
“Shit.” Chris swiped a hand over his short hair, processing the news. “Santiago’s people grabbed him? How? I thought we took care of them all.”
“We’re not sure. Working on getting names. The officers in the vehicle survived, and they said they heard someone speaking French. Guys were all pro. Wearing face masks.”
“Whoever took him left the CIA officers alive?” Good news, but surprising. “Doesn’t sound like the work of his human-trafficking buddies, then. Maybe one of his prior associates wanted to get to him before he could talk while in custody,” Chris suggested just as Bear came charging his way, leash dragging on the ground. Chris turned to see Rory standing at the opening of the garage, lips parted.
How long had she been there? How much had she heard?
“Sorry. He got excited and took off. Stronger than I expected.” Rory grimaced in apology and went for Bear’s leash. “But, um, human trafficker? Those are the gigs y’all work? Not what I expected for a security company.” She tilted her head. “Are y’all really spooks?” She circled a finger in the air, pointing to Chris. “You’re CIA, aren’t you? Your company is an alias.”
“No, no, no.” Finn shook his head, his mouth tight. Brows pinched inward.
“Just because this fool looks like that character Jack Ryan does not mean—”
“You guys and the Jack Ryan stuff, I swear,” Finn said with a teasing voice, cutting off Chris. “Ignore him,” he went on. “But to answer . . . that would be a hell no to the CIA question. You can capitalize the N and the O on that one, too.”
Rory tossed a casual smile at Finn and Roman. Chris nearly forgot what they’d been talking about at the sight of her glossy lips spreading open to reveal perfect, white teeth.
“Harper and Jessica were CIA, but now they’re on the good side with us.” And Finn just dug that hole a little deeper.
“Oh?” Rory crouched alongside Bear, checking his collar. “Is there a bad side?”
“Ah, with the CIA, it can be very hit or miss. Some are good.”
“Some are bad,” Finn finished for Chris.
“You see,” Chris began while holding both arms straight out, palms together, fingers pointed toward Rory once she was back on her feet, “they walk a line, those spooks. A very fine line.”
“You’re babbling,” Roman commented, his tone deep. “The both of you.”
“Anyway, we should go,” Finn said with a nod, and his gaze shifted to Chris. “But if we gotta do the thing, well, we’ll let you know when and where.” Finn patted Bear’s head, then waved goodbye, and Roman simply nodded before they started for the truck.
“Uh, how much did you overhear?”
“Oh, probably as much as you heard when I was talking to Ella last night on the phone outside Liam’s house.”
“So nothing.” He smiled.
“Right.” She lightly shook her head. “Absolutely nothing.” Rory commanded Bear to stand and follow her, even though she still had the leash. When she and Bear reached the opening of the garage, she halted and turned to look back at where he stood dumbfounded. “But what was his name? The guy you were talking about?”
“Whose name?” And this time, he had no choice but to play dumb.
“The guy with the thing.”
“Hmm.” He scratched his chin, taking his time to answer. “He was just a bad guy from El Salvador. His name isn’t worth mentioning, I promise.”
She dropped her gaze to the ground, and a sudden spark of recognition came over her face. A spark he didn’t expect to witness, because why would she have any idea about a guy like Santiago? The only people familiar with a dirtbag like him were criminals and the men and women who worked to take them down.
“I just remembered something. A call I have to make.” Rory jerked a thumb toward the house, then handed
him the leash. “How about you two work on those Dutch commands for a bit before y’all take a break for lunch? And remember, no treats or praise unless it’s deserved.”
“Got it.” He worked a hand over the back of his neck, uneasy about her darting off. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine.” She smiled, and he didn’t know her well enough to decipher if it was fake or not, but she walked away before he had a chance to say more.
He knelt to Bear’s eye level. “I think she’s not telling us something. What do you think?”
“I think you’re right, Chris,” Chris spoke in a kid-like voice as if Bear had said the words.
“Women,” Chris muttered. He directed two fingers to his own eyes before pointing them Bear’s way. “But I got you, Bear. You and me, buddy.” Bear’s lips curved as if the dog was legit smiling a goofy grin. “You’re my kind of dog.” He stood and patted Bear on the head. “And hey, maybe you can sneak into my bed later,” he added with a whisper, “just don’t tell Boss Lady about that.”
Chapter Nine
“Why haven’t I seen this movie before?” Rory’s eyes remained glued to the screen. One hand in the popcorn bowl, the other wrapped around Bear on the couch in the living room. “It’s riveting. And has my stomach in knots.” She finally tore her eyes away from the TV to look at her phone, which was perched upright on the coffee table in front of her.
Ella’s face came into view. They’d been chatting for the last twenty minutes over FaceTime while Ella sewed, and Rory watched the movie. “Because you couldn’t handle war movies when Jesse was in the Army. They made you nervous,” Ella mumbled, a pin clenched between her teeth. In her spare time, Ella designed clothes, and she was working on her latest creation—a dress for Rory on the off chance she decided to go to the gala on Friday.
It didn’t make much sense to go back to a world she’d left behind, even if it was the research she’d provided Andrew before they parted ways that most likely enabled him to find the Spanish vessel he was being honored for discovering. And knowing Andrew, he wanted her there for the same reason he’d been reaching out over the years. To get her back on his team.
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