Driving past the main building, he continued on to his trailer. He’d have to tell the guys about the old mine, but he’d do that later—after a couple of hours of shut-eye.
But first, he needed a hot shower.
He slid between the sheets shortly thereafter, welcoming the feel of the cool cotton against his overheated skin. The DIY in the shower had taken some of the edge off but not enough. He had a feeling he was going to be doing a lot of that in the coming weeks and months if he had any hope of retaining his sanity. One thought of kissing Kate, and he was right back to where he’d started.
The last thing he did before closing his eyes was check his phone, irrationally pleased when he saw a text from Kate. It included a picture of her in unflattering, full-coverage, striped pajamas, lying on the floor, stretched out with the sleeping puppies. Her index finger was pressed to her smiling lips in a shh gesture.
Just like that, his semi-content dick achieved granite status.
So, he did what any sexually frustrated caveman would do. He pushed the covers down to his hips, snapped a picture from the waist up, and sent it to her in a reply text. Then, he smiled, carefully rolled over, and fell asleep.
~ * ~
The first thing he did when he woke early the next morning was reach for his phone. Kate had responded to his last text with a GIF of a woman fanning herself. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one suffering. He tried to feel bad about that and couldn’t.
Mad Dog: Did you sleep well?
Kate: Yes, no thanks to you.
Mad Dog: Me? What did I do?
Kate: You are a wicked, wicked man, Mr. Sheppard. May I remind you that payback is a bitch?
Anticipation bubbled in his veins.
Mad Dog: Bring it, Miss Handelmann.
Kate: You’re on. Gotta go. Running late ...
He was still smiling when he entered the main building a short while later. A sense of anticipation had taken root and was growing with every tick of the clock as he wondered what Kate’s “payback” might be. His mind conjured images of her in silky, lacy lingerie—or better yet, nothing at all—snapping pictures of herself in sexy positions. Thankfully, the flannel shirt he wore over his thermal extended far enough to hide the physical side effects of those private thoughts.
Delicious aromas of Sam’s freshly brewed crack coffee and breakfast drew him toward the dining area. Unsurprisingly, Smoke was already there—and probably had been since before dawn. Sam liked to get the kitchen up and running bright and early, and Smoke liked to be wherever Sam was. He would walk her up from the cabin they shared each morning and then linger for a while. Sam thought he was being sweet. Mad Dog knew it was more than that.
Also, he understood Smoke’s behavior more now—and on a much deeper level—than he had a few short weeks ago.
Smoke sat at a table with his back to the wall, like most of them did. That was why, when Mad Dog had designed the galley area, he’d put the seating around the perimeter and a multipurpose mobile island in the center.
After pouring a coffee and helping himself to the muffins, eggs, and bacon laid out, Mad Dog joined him.
“Morning,” he greeted.
“Morning.” Smoke closed out whatever he’d been reading on his tablet and turned his attention to Mad Dog. “Everything all right?”
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Perimeter cams picked up your truck heading out in the middle of the night.”
In his single-minded focus to ensure that Kate was okay, he’d forgotten about the motion-sensitive devices they’d installed as a direct result of last year’s vandalism. Over coffee and breakfast, he gave Smoke a rundown of the last forty-eight hours.
“Puppies, huh?” Smoke asked, the corners of his lips quirking upward in amusement. He had been doing more of that now that Sam was around. Before that, Mad Dog couldn’t remember seeing him smile. “Better not tell Sam.”
“Better not tell Sam what?” Heff asked, sliding into an adjacent seat. His wet hair and smug, relaxed expression suggested he’d spent the night in Sandy’s suite upstairs.
Lucky bastard.
Then again, Heff had already paid his dues during those couple of months Sandy was in Manhattan, chasing her dream of becoming a graphic designer for some hotshot ad firm.
“Kate Handelmann’s dog had puppies,” Smoke said.
“What’s this about puppies?” Cage asked, extending their impromptu breakfast crew as he and Doc sat down with their plates.
“Kate Handelmann’s dog had puppies,” Heff parroted.
“What kind?”
Curious eyes turned to Mad Dog, who shrugged. “I don’t know. The male’s got a huge head, like he’s got some pit bull in him. The female looked like a yellow Lab, if I had to guess.”
Heff leaned back, took a sip of his coffee, and briefly closed his eyes in blatant appreciation of Sam’s brew. “Cute pups, I bet.”
Mad Dog nodded. They were pretty fucking adorable.
“Got pictures?” Doc asked.
The only picture he had was the one with Kate in her pajamas, and as G-rated as that was, he wasn’t about to share it with anyone. “No.”
Doc pointed a piece of bacon at him and waved it around like it was a weapon. “What the hell is wrong with you? How could you not take pictures of newborn puppies?”
“Puppies? Who has puppies?” The feminine voice had them looking toward the center island. Sam stood frozen with a tray of muffins in one hand and a fresh carafe of coffee in the other. She was staring their way with big, hopeful eyes.
“Fuck,” Smoke mumbled under his breath.
A brief, silent standoff ensued. Sam continued to stare expectantly. One by one, his brothers caved under the pressure and averted their gazes. Smoke looked at Mad Dog and then exhaled. He was cornered, and he knew it.
“Kate Handelmann’s dog had puppies.”
Sam made a feminine squealing sound he’d never heard her make before. She put the muffins and carafe on the island and scurried over to them, pinning her eyes on Mad Dog. “When? Do you have pictures?”
“Yesterday. And no.”
“Ask Kate to send some. Or better yet, maybe we could drive down and see them?”
“Kate’s working,” he told her.
“Oh.” A frown ghosted her lips. “Who’s watching the puppies?”
“The store is right across from her house. She’s going to check on them frequently throughout the day.”
Sam’s shoulders dropped. “Oh. Well, I guess that makes sense. And I imagine she’s got an awful lot on her plate. I still want pictures though.”
Smoke watched her until she disappeared into the kitchen and then glared at Mad Dog. He wasn’t the only one.
“Nice going,” Cage grumbled, shooting him an angry glare.
“What the hell did I do?”
“You crushed her, man,” Heff explained. “But it’s probably for the best. If she saw them, she’d want one.”
“What does Kate plan to do with them, do you know?” Doc asked.
Mad Dog shook his head. “No idea. The vet scanned the mama dog for a chip and got nothing, so Kate’s keeping them all at her place until she comes up with a better solution. She’s already attached.”
“Hmm,” Doc hummed.
He decided to change the subject. “Has anyone seen Church this morning?”
“Yeah, he’s in the war room,” Heff answered. “Why?”
“Because I’ve come across some information he’s going to want to hear.”
Cage’s eyes lit up almost as much as Sam’s had when she heard the word puppies. “Does this have anything to do with what we were talking about the other day?”
“It does.”
“Well, all right then, let’s go.”
Any food remaining was quickly eaten; coffee mugs were drained. They carried their dishes back to the kitchen, where they were stacked on the counter beside the commercial sink. One of the newbies, a quiet guy by the name of Ande
rson, nodded but didn’t meet anyone’s eyes as he silently put them in the sink and started using the power sprayer on them.
Mad Dog wasn’t sure what to think of Anderson yet. The guy didn’t say much and tended to keep to himself. The day after he’d arrived, he’d just started showing up in the kitchen, doing shit that needed to be done and then disappearing again. That probably explained why Smoke had been staying close by Sam even more than usual these days.
Church was leaning over one of the drafting tables, examining an ancient-looking set of prints—the architectural design for the original Winston resort. He glanced up when they all entered together. “What’s up?”
“Mad Dog’s got intel,” Cage announced.
Everyone found a place to sit or lean and then looked to Mad Dog.
“You know those mines you were telling us about? Well, I spent the night in one.”
He told them where the place was and what little he knew. As he did, he felt a pang of conscience. Kate had shared her secret with him, and telling them about the mine felt like he was breaking a confidence.
He rationalized it away, reasoning that while the place clearly held memories for Kate, she was an adult and no longer saw the place with the same childlike wonder she once had. Surely, she would understand.
Right?
Besides, he couldn’t not tell them, not when there were others who might also know of those shafts and be using them for nefarious intent.
“Looks like you were in the old Paxton mine,” Cage said, pointing to the map he’d pulled up on the screen. He zeroed in on Sumneyville and the thousand or so square miles surrounding it.
Heff whistled, leaning in closer. “It’s an entire underground network.”
“And those are just the legal, documented ones,” Doc added. “I’ve been researching some of the local anthracite history. It’s tragic and fascinating, filled with all sorts of shady goings-on.”
Church turned to Mad Dog. “Kate said she’s explored these mines? Actually been in them?”
“Yes,” he confirmed, pushing back another pang.
“Did she say anything else? Like how many are still open or where they lead?”
“No. She changed the subject when I started asking questions.”
“What about names? Did she drop any?”
“Just an old guy named O’Farrell who had told her about them as a kid. She said she explored them alone.” Mostly.
Church’s brows knit together. “Kind of reckless, don’t you think?”
Reckless was exactly the term Kate had used.
“Who didn’t do reckless shit when they were kids?” Mad Dog asked, rising to Kate’s defense, but inside, he understood where Church’s thoughts were headed since his had taken a similar path.
Perhaps Kate had sensed that, and that was why she’d clammed up the way she did. There was more to her mine exploration than the little bit she’d shared; he was certain of it. However, that was not something he was going to divulge to the guys. Facts and direct observations were one thing. Unsubstantiated impressions were another.
“Relax, man,” Doc said. “No one is accusing Kate of anything.”
“No,” Cage agreed, slowly drawing out the word. “But she is a local with strong ties to some of our biggest critics.”
“So are Sam and Sandy,” Mad Dog pointed out. He looked to Smoke and Heff for some support.
Smoke said nothing, but Heff nodded thoughtfully and said, “That’s true, but Cage has a valid point. Loyalty is a big thing in small towns. Even after everything that happened, Sandy still doesn’t want to believe Lenny Petraski is a bad guy. They have a lot of history. It makes sense to assume that Kate might also feel conflicted if put on the spot, especially if it feels like a betrayal.”
Their impromptu meeting broke up shortly after that, but what Heff had said stayed with him the rest of the day.
Mad Dog understood his words to be a subtle warning. Both Sam and Sandy had come under criticism from some of the citizens of Sumneyville for their associations with Sanctuary. There was a growing us versus them mentality, particularly from those in Daryl Freed’s inner circle.
Was Kate part of that inner circle? By association maybe. They did give her family’s store a lot of business, and in places like Sumneyville, that kind of thing usually demanded reciprocity. Also, Sam and Sandy had alluded to a connection of a more personal nature between Kate and Luther Renninger, who, according to Cage, played for Team Freed.
The thought of Kate with any other man—past, present, or future—was enough to make his inner caveman rise to the surface with a sudden, violent urge to maim and kill. Mad Dog definitely needed more information, information that Cage couldn’t pull up on his computer. He knew just who to ask. But first, he made a phone call.
“Hey, handsome. Calling to torture me some more?”
He could clearly hear the amusement in Kate’s voice, immediately brightening his day.
“I’m anxiously awaiting payback,” he teased. “Or are you all talk and no action, Miss Handelmann?”
She laughed, a husky, sexy sound. “I guess you’ll find out when I text you tonight, won’t you?”
He certainly hoped so. “How’s your day going? Pups okay?”
“They’re doing great. Business is slow, which is a good thing since I’m running across the street every hour or so.”
“Sam asked for puppy pictures.” No sooner had the words left his mouth than his phone buzzed with an incoming text message. “That was fast.”
“I might have been in the process of sending you some when you called.”
It was his turn to laugh. “Fair enough.”
“Hey, can I ask a favor?”
“Of course,” he answered without hesitation.
“Would you mind puppy-sitting for an hour or two later this week? I need to pick up some stuff for the dogs. The voices of doom are calling for another big storm this weekend, and I want to make sure I have plenty on hand.”
“I’ve got a better idea. How about I bring Sam down with me? She can watch the puppies while I treat you to dinner and help you get everything you need.”
Silence stretched between them.
“Kate?”
“Yeah, sorry. I’m just not used to ...” Her voice was soft. She cleared her throat and spoke louder, “I would love that. Are you sure? Sam won’t mind?”
“I’m sure. And Sam will be thrilled, trust me.”
“Then ... thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Give me a date and time, and we’ll be there.”
“I will. And, Chris?”
“Yes?”
“Make sure you check your phone tonight before you go to bed.”
He groaned. The last thing he heard was Kate laughing before she disconnected. He might have underestimated her. The woman knew exactly how to ensure he’d spend the rest of the day thinking about her.
Could she be any more perfect?
On that happy thought, he went in search of Sam. He found her in the kitchen, scowling down at her laptop. The brief spark of excitement she’d exhibited earlier was now nowhere to be found.
“Problem?” he asked.
“No. I’m just scouring food sites, trying to plan ahead. I think I might have overestimated my abilities. Running a kitchen and dining hall is a lot harder than running a coffee shop.”
The situation was worse than he’d thought. “How so?”
“The coffee shop had a limited, static menu. People knew what to expect. But this ...” She lifted her hands up in the air. “I don’t want to serve the same boring meals every day.”
“Don’t even think about doing away with your coffee and muffins. We’ll have a full-scale riot on our hands.”
She smiled appreciatively at that. “Thanks. Those, I’ve got covered. It’s everything else I’m having difficulty with. I’m just not creative when it comes to meals, you know?” She sighed and sat back, crossing her arms over her chest, looking defeated. “Maybe I s
hould be searching for a cook instead of recipes.”
Mad Dog immediately thought of the leftovers he’d had at Kate’s and saw his opportunity. “Kate does a lot of cooking. Maybe you can ask her for some ideas when we head down there later this week to see the puppies.”
Just that quickly, Sam sat up straight, her eyes brightening with excitement. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. In fact, I volunteered you for puppy-sitting duty while Kate and I do a supply run. You okay with that?”
“Absolutely,” she replied, beaming. Sam got up from the table, and in a surprise move, she came over and kissed his cheek. “Thanks, Mad Dog. Kate is a lucky girl.”
Then, she picked up her laptop and left the kitchen with a spring in her step. He hadn’t asked her about Luther Renninger, but he would later.
“So, I guess we’re puppy-sitting, huh?” Smoke stepped quietly out of the shadows, demonstrating how he’d gotten his call name. He was a stealthy fucker.
“Looks like.” Mad Dog grinned.
Smoke exhaled. “Well, I guess there are worse things.”
There definitely were. Like seeing the woman you cared about doubting herself.
Smoke came closer and spoke in a low tone, confirming Mad Dog’s theory, “Sam’s worried she bit off more than she can chew.”
“She’s doing a great job, but I can understand how she might feel overwhelmed. What about the part-time help she hired?”
“The last one called this morning and said she’s not coming back.”
“Did she say why?”
Smoke shook his head, but Mad Dog already knew the answer, just as he did. The part-timers were locals who were probably getting shit for working at Sanctuary. Things were getting out of hand. They weren’t bad guys. They weren’t unreasonable. They were trying to do something good here. Why couldn’t the locals see that?
Smoke ran his hand through his hair and exhaled. “Thank God Sandy decided to stick around.”
“Agreed.”
Not only did Sandy’s presence mean Heff was back to his usual smart-ass self, but Sam also had another woman to talk to, one who had also grown up in Sumneyville and knew what was what. Plus, Sandy’s restaurant experience was proving to be quite helpful as well. When some of the local suppliers had backed out on them, Sandy had used her connections at Franco’s to hook them up and keep them running.
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