Chapter 24
TWENTY-FOUR
Frankie was grinning ear to ear as Waylon parked in front of Watchdog’s kennels to retrieve Snoopy several hours after dropping him off.
“Do you think he missed us?” she asked.
Waylon gave her a grin. “Of course he did.” He ran his hand through her hair, then leaned over and kissed her. “Love seeing you happy, Pix.”
“I love seeing justice actually work.” After listening to Waylon talk about Felice, she was expecting to be told she’d have to wait for her restraining order. But the stars must have been aligned. Not only had she gotten an interview, she’d been in front of a judge a couple hours later, presenting the evidence on her phone along with the paperwork. She’d granted Frankie her restraining order without hesitation. Derek would receive it that day. Frankie had to restrain herself from hugging the judge.
Frankie knew that in spite of his smile, Waylon was not expecting the order to stop Derek. She couldn’t blame him, but at the same time, she couldn’t help but feel hopeful. It was her optimism that had helped her mentally get through her chemo. It would get her through this, too.
When they walked in, the kennel’s receptionist, Jodie, smiled at them. She stood up and came around her desk.
“Hey, guys! I’m supposed to take you to Snoopy, but he’s so cute, I’ve decided he’s not allowed to leave.”
Frankie laughed. “I think you’re going to have to fight both of us if that’s the case.”
Waylon dropped his arm across Frankie’s shoulders. “I warn you, Frankie’s much fiercer than I am.”
Jodie laughed. “I believe it. So, you’re in good moods; the hearing must have gone well?”
“It did. Dr. Derek Sloane will not be bothering me.”
“Damn straight he won’t,” a voice called from down the hall past reception. Shane appeared a moment later, accompanied by a woman who had a couple of inches on him. “Frankie, I’d like you to meet Charlie King. She’s Watchdog’s best bodyguard.”
The woman gave her a warm, beautiful smile as she offered her hand for Frankie to shake. “Very pleased to meet you, Frank,” Charlie said. “Welcome to the Guy Name Club.”
Frankie burst out laughing. “Love it! Please tell me Steve is in it, too.”
“ In it?” Charlie said. “Steve founded it. She informed me this morning when I was there to have a quick swim before work.”
“Oh of course she did,” Frankie said, pretending to slap her forehead. “Sadly, the Adventure Club is no more.”
“Yeah,” Charlie said, tilting her head in sympathy. “But Steph—I mean, Steve—is in good spirits. She’s not about to let a broken arm slow her down.”
“I suppose you’re more interested in picking up a certain dog than talking to a couple of humans,” Shane said.
“I can multitask,” Frankie said as Waylon chuckled beside her. “But yeah, I miss my puppy.”
Shane and Charlie turned and Jodie joined them. “He had a great time with the other dogs,” Shane said as they all walked down the hall toward the kennels. “Peetie’s adopted him.”
“Peetie?”
“Shane’s Lab,” Charlie said. “I’m not surprised. I call him Peetie the Sweetie.”
They walked past the kennels to an outdoor, fenced-in area full of doggie obstacles. Frankie spotted Snoopy in the outdoor play yard, locked in a tug-of-war with a black Lab as Kyle and another man watched. Other dogs darted around them—Malinois, Shepherds, mutts—wrestling, playing fetch. Others were napping in the last warm puddles of sunlight for the day.
“So many dogs,” Frankie said. “And they all get along?” She looked at Shane.
“They’re a pack,” he said with a shrug. “All Watchdog dogs.” He lifted his chin toward Snoopy and Peetie. “Looks like Snoopy’s been accepted.”
Kyle lifted his hand and waved and the other man nodded, then gave a command to the Lab, who immediately let go of the rope and sat. Kyle swept Snoopy up in his arms, along with the rope the puppy refused to drop. As he crossed the courtyard, a gold-and-black Lab got up from one of the sunny patches and trotted alongside him.
“This is Camo,” Kyle said as he transferred Snoopy to Frankie’s arms then handed her a leash.
“I was just going to ask,” Frankie said as she let Snoopy lick her chin. “Gorgeous dog.”
“He’s a chimera—genetically two dogs in one. And smarter than two humans put together.”
“Is he your dog?” Frankie joked, remembering what Arden had said in the exam room.
Kyle laughed. “More like Arden and me are his humans. Camo runs the show.” Kyle scratched Camo’s ears and the dog leaned against him in obvious love and devotion. “So, you’re welcome to the shooting range anytime you want. I’ll get you set up with an ID badge, which also works as your key. ”
“What?” Frankie asked, confused at the abrupt change in subject.
Kyle looked at Waylon. “You didn’t tell her?”
“Sorry, Pix.” Waylon dropped his arm around her shoulders. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you that I asked Kyle if you could practice here. I know you’ve got your Glock but I don’t know how long it’s been since you went shooting.”
“Oh.” She blinked rapidly, realizing the implications—Waylon wanted to make sure she could defend herself against Derek. “I honestly don’t remember. It’s been over a year though.”
Kyle’s gaze strayed to her short hair and quickly darted back to her eyes. “Of course. Well, Charlie’s offered to help shake off some of the rust.”
Charlie narrowed her eyes at her boss. “Shake off some of the rust? Really?”
Frankie laughed. “It’s all right. I get what he means. And thank you.” She tipped her head at Charlie and Kyle. “I appreciate what you’re doing for me, but the good news is, I have a shiny new restraining order against Derek Sloane.”
Shane and Waylon shared a quick look that was easy for her to interpret—they trusted a restraining order about as much as they’d trust driving across a bridge made of balsa wood.
“We’ll get out of your hair.” Frankie set Snoopy on the ground and snapped his leash to his collar. “Sorry to be a bother. Thank you.”
“Negative,” Kyle said. “Not a bother at all. With either watching Snoopy or using the range.” He looked over his shoulder at the other man, who had rounded up the dog. “Alex is also a fan of the new pup. He’s my kennel master. He was having fun teaching Snoopy a few basic commands. He should sit and heel for you now.”
“Thank you!” Frankie shouted to Alex, who nodded in return. She straightened up and told Snoopy to sit. The puppy responded immediately. Frankie started walking. “Heel.” Snoopy trotted right at her side.
“Cool.” Frankie beamed at Kyle.
She turned to see Waylon’s reaction and caught Shane handing him a small black bag. She raised her eyebrows in question, but Waylon only smiled back.
It wasn’t long after they got to Waylon’s apartment that Frankie discovered what that was all about.
“The bag’s full of quarters.”
Her eyes went wide. “Oh my God. State quarters?”
He laughed. “Yeah. All the different states. I’ve been saving them ever since you told me you were going to leave your next destination up to fate. But I didn’t have one of each state, so I asked Shane if he would ask everyone to donate to the cause until we had all fifty states plus D.C., Puerto Rico, Guam, the U.S. Virgin Islands, Samoa, and the Mariana Islands.” He shook the bag and the coins inside jingled.
“No way. I can’t believe you went to all this trouble.”
“Believe it, Pix. Reach in, pick one, and that’s where we’ll go.” He held the bag up just over her head. “Let’s do it, gambling woman.”
She laughed before she plunged her hand in. The bag was indeed full of quarters. She was tempted to cheat and try to find Hawaii by touch. It was on her list, after all. A moment’s flicker of bittersweet pain stabbed her heart.
As Frankie scrounged around in the bag, she noticed something strange. Each coin felt the same—or did they? No, it had to be her fingers, left tingly after chemo.
Unless …
Frankie finally picked one and pulled it out. When she opened her hand, sure enough, there it was resting in her palm—the Hawaii quarter.
Did he…? He couldn’t have.
She pretended to be surprised, letting out a delighted laugh. “Hawaii. Yes!” She high-fived him. “I can’t believe it!”
But, she’d take the bet that the bag was full of nothing but Hawaii quarters.
“Wow, look at that,” Waylon said. “Just where you wanted to go. First, the restraining order came through right away, now this.” He swiftly put the bag of quarters away. “I’ll just give these back to Shane to redistribute with the ones I put in there first. Man, that was lucky.”
Frankie could tell he wasn’t the least bit surprised. He was a terrible liar.
Her lips curved into a smile as she turned and headed for the bedroom. “I’ll show you who’s lucky…”
The door had barely clicked shut before Waylon was on her.
Frankie backed into the wall, breath catching as he kissed her—slow at first, making sure she still wanted this. Which was almost funny, considering the only thing she wanted more than him at that moment was air, and even that was debatable.
His body pressed into hers, all heat and muscle and safety, and something deep in her belly sparked to life. She grabbed the fabric of his thermal and tugged him closer. She could taste his desire and it wound her up even tighter. He tasted so good, and she wanted more.
“Tell me what you want from me,” he murmured. His lips brushed hers, warm and intoxicating.
Frankie reached down and slid her hands under his shirt. Her fingers trailed lightly over his skin and he hissed. “I want everything. I want all of you.”
His eyes closed slowly as if he were savoring her words. When they opened again, they were filled with an intensity she’d never seen. “Good,” he breathed.
Then he lifted her up. She gasped, instinctively wrapping her legs around his waist as he pinned her gently to the wall. His mouth found the soft curve of her throat. Frankie felt his teeth scrape against her sensitive skin and she moaned as she tipped her head back.
He gripped the hem of her sweater and dragged it upward inch by inch, his thumb grazing over her skin until her toes curled.
“You drive me crazy, Pix,” he muttered against her skin.
“In a good way or a bad way?” she teased.
“Right now—good,” he growled. “In an hour, God knows with you. ”
He carried her down the hall to the bedroom. Then they were lying on the bed in a tangle of limbs and laughter and desperate need.
Clothes vanished, flung aside in their haste. She didn’t care where they landed. One minute his shirt was there, the next it was somewhere across the room, and her sweater half-covered the lamp. Waylon’s hands were everywhere—slow and reverent one moment, demanding the next. She arched into him, helpless not to.
When he finally entered her, Frankie gasped—every nerve ending lit up like someone had thrown a match on dry kindling. He stilled above her, watching her face, letting her feel all of him.
She reached up and touched his cheek. “Don’t be gentle. Not tonight.”
Something fierce ignited in his eyes, and then he moved.
Every thrust was fire. Every kiss, thunder. Every moan, a prayer.
And when she came apart beneath him at the same moment he called her name in ecstasy, Frankie clung to him like he was the only thing anchoring her to the world—because he was.
Coming down from her high, she thought of how the earbud on the bus had been her anchor to her old BC world, and now Waylon was her anchor in the new one.
She smiled against his throat as he tried to catch his breath. The more she thought about it, the more certain she was that he’d filled the bag with Hawaii quarters to surprise her and give her what she wanted.
In return, she had a surprise for him—for both of them—waiting in her duffel bag.
Or so she hoped.