Chapter 4
KYLE
If the sad pup and I were going to spend the afternoon together, he needed a name.
Since the hot blonde who’d handed him over to me had refused to share that information, I worked on what to call him as I drove to the edge of town and turned onto the dirt driveway that led to my little slice of heaven.
Or soon-to-be finished money pit, depending upon one’s perspective.
I parked in the stone driveway, in front of the garage, and peered around my seat. “Okay, Charlie, home sweet home.” It was the third name I’d tried, and it received the same non-response from him as the first two.
I sighed as I climbed out of the cab and slowly opened the back door in case he was inclined to jump. “There’s a big yard out back. How about I let you roam around in there while I get you some water, okay boy? Would you like that, Spike?”
That earned a small wag of his tail. Whether he recognized one of the words like yard or water or he actually liked this fourth moniker, I would take the win.
“Spike it is.” I lifted him into my arms with one arm behind his back legs, the way my mystery woman had carried him, and settled him out back. I looped his leash over a metal plant pole and tied it.
I punched in the security code on the back sliding door and held my thumb over the print reader until a series of locks clicked and the red lights of security cameras turned off. Overkill for most residences. Standard operating procedure for my particular circumstances.
I’d spent all of my free time over the past few months fixing up my new place mostly by myself.
I loved getting my hands dirty, making my home a showplace room by room, putting down roots.
Now, with the necessary repairs out of the way, most of the remaining work was cosmetic.
The first thing I’d contracted to have done was an upgrade to the electrical system.
That had allowed HEAT’s security specialists to install a state-of-the-art system.
Most of the time, ceding that much control was a total pain in the ass.
But every now and then, like when a hot blonde who might be an enemy operative crossed my path, it was good to have a well-guarded sanctuary.
I took water to Spike. He lapped it up appreciatively, then turned in a circle and lay down on the grass, under a large oak tree.
I snapped a picture of my new buddy, did a reverse image search, and figured out he was an English Staffordshire.
My heart sank. I knew what an abused Staffy might mean, and while this guy was small and probably still young, the neglect and possibly worse things being done to him could be for the purposes of turning his docile nature mean.
“Fuck me,” I muttered. I left Spike to his nap and hit a phone number in my favorites list as I stalked back to the driveway.
“You’d better be on the wrong end of a gun or need help diffusing a bomb to disturb me on our time off,” Jack Pasco muttered into the phone.
I grinned. “I miss you, too, and it’s only been a few days. How’s the world’s best hacker?”
“I know I’m the best. I don’t need your bullshit platitudes. Cut to the chase, Rogers.”
Pasco truly was one of the world’s best white-hat hackers.
The only other person in his league was HEAT’s head of IT, Jason Jensen.
Jensen was Pasco’s best friend, and also his nemesis.
When an agent needed an extracurricular favor from either one of them, it never hurt to grease the skids with some flattery, even if they did pretend to hate it.
“Nothing too onerous,” I said. “I just need some research.”
“Sounds like something you could do yourself. Really, Rogers, I expect this kind of weaponized incompetence from the tactical ops, but a loggie who can’t do his own recon?”
I didn’t push back on him busting my chops because the fact that he was still on the line meant he planned to help me. “This requires some extra juice, the use of some databases I can’t access from home.”
He sighed loudly. “If you’re going to ruin my Sunday, you could at least make it interesting.” Because of his position in the agency, Pasco had the computer set-up for legal access to secure databases like law enforcement systems, from almost anywhere.
“You could always skip the legal route and hack into the FBI for the fun of it,” I suggested.
“Don’t tempt me. I’m already disinclined to help out an operative who’s too lazy to drive twelve minutes from his house to HQ to do his own work.” His bluster was all for show. He was clacking away on his keyboard as we spoke.
I’d reached the driveway and climbed into the truck.
I hit the automatic garage door opener and pulled the truck inside without unloading it.
That would have to wait until the Spike situation was settled.
“Actually, I can’t go into the office because I’m dog sitting, which is related to the information I need. ”
“Dog sitting that requires an enhanced search.” The key clacking stopped. “Whose dog is this?”
“That’s where it gets a little murky. I need to know if any of the agencies have eyes on a local dog-fighting ring.”
“Does Kat know anything about this?” he asked.
“Not unless and until it’s necessary.” I blew out a breath as I walked back to the yard.
Spike didn’t lift his head when I stepped through the gate, but he did thump his tail against the grass.
“Pasco, here’s the deal. This dog has obviously been abused.
I think he might also be stolen. I suspect the thief is one of the good guys and is trying to save him, but I need something to go on, somewhere to start. ”
The keys clacked again. “How hot is she?”
“What?”
“The woman you hope is a good guy,” Pasco said. “How hot is she?”
“I didn’t...That’s not...” Not what this was about? Wasn’t it? “She left me with the dog and instructions to protect him until I can hand him back to her later today. I’m open to the possibility that she’s not on the up and up, although my well-honed instincts tell me I can trust her.”
“Buddy, a hard-on is a totally different kind of instinct. And that meeting later today could be a trap. Specifically, a honey trap.”
I scowled. Yes, I’d thought about that term myself, but I’d also dismissed the idea. Mostly. “Can you stay focused on the search, please?”
“I’m multi-tasking. Huh. No current activity anywhere in the vicinity, but a dog-fighting ring was broken up a couple of years ago, about 20 miles from here.”
I knelt beside Spike and petted his head. “Any of those assholes escape justice, negotiate a sweetheart deal, get let out on parole?”
“No to all of the above. But you know, there are other ways bad guys use dogs, if that’s what’s going on.”
“I know.” Further proof the soft-hearted blonde was a good guy because I couldn’t picture her doing any of those things.
“What time are you handing over the dog?” Pasco asked.
“Five fifteen. There are no security cameras on that end of the park, so I’ll be going in a little blind”
“No, you’ll be going in totally blind. You need boots on the ground. Have you called Hayes or Wheeler?”
We had two tactical operatives on our Special Forces HEAT team, Ryan Wheeler and Ben Hayes. “Wheeler is taking parachute recertification this weekend, so I’m on my way to Hayes’s place now.”
I unhooked Spike’s leash from the makeshift dog run and patted my leg to make him heel.
“Or,” Pasco backed up to where I’d stopped him, “you could start with your partner, who doesn’t have a personal life as far as I can tell. Unlike Hayes, who’s a newlywed with a pregnant wife.”
Logan Lang was my counterpart on our two-man logistics unit.
Our role was typically behind the scenes, unless and until things went to shit and we needed to jump in to extract our tactical team or clean up what was left of bad guys.
But we were cross-trained to be “in the field,” which was just a nice way of saying staring down enemy agents or scary criminals.
And Lang was good enough to fill damn near any role within HEAT.
He was also one prickly son of a bitch and since I had to work with the guy on the daily, I preferred to stay on his good side.
“Nah,” I said. “If Hayes isn’t available, I’ll figure out something else.”
“Like hell you will. You need to contact the boss and bring her up to speed.”
Since my truck bed was full of building supplies, I lifted Spike into the back seat of my Prius and closed the door. “Pasco, I—”
“Come on, man. Do not make me be that guy. Forcing me to be a snitch will wreak havoc on my reputation. And you getting honey-trapped to death when I could have prevented it will possibly get me demoted. Probably not, because I’m that damn good, but possibly.”
“You’re all heart.” I climbed into the driver’s seat and started the car. “Okay. I promise I’ll go to Kat if it comes to that, but only as a last resort.”
An hour and a half later, I was standing outside my boss’s door, holding Spike’s leash as he sat quietly beside me like the very good boy he was.
As Pasco had warned me, Hayes had been blissfully up to his ass in family obligations.
And the minute I’d left Hayes’s condo, Pasco had called to remind me of my promise to loop in our boss, so here I was.
I wasn’t really mad about it. Despite what I’d said earlier, Kat Hartmann was hardly the choice of last resort. She’d been one of the agency’s best field operatives for over a decade before she’d been put in charge of our team.
At the moment, the chameleonic spy was doing her best imitation of a harried mom.
Or more precisely, an overwhelmed aunt. Her niece, an adorable blonde-haired twenty-month-old, was propped on her hip.
A flowered bag was slung across her chest, and a backpack was strapped over her shoulders.
She’d opened the door before I could knock and stood clutching her keys in her hand.
I’d caught her on her way out, and she was in one hell of a hurry.