8 - Dog #2
“Well, he’s got a lot of fight in him,” Dog said, taking a sip of his water. “Make sure you tell him I said to listen to his physical therapist, or I’ll come over there and put him in a headlock. I want to see this robot in action once he’s back on his feet.”
“We’ll run a full demonstration,” Rhys promised, beaming. “Just don’t tell mom we’re testing the flamethrower attachment in the driveway.”
Flora slowly lowered her fork, her eyebrows raising as she looked at her son. “The what attachment?”
Bear and Dog both suddenly found their plates intensely interesting, doing their best to hide their smirks as Rhys realized his tactical error.
“Uh…the, um…the flare attachment?” Rhys tried, his voice squeaking slightly. “For…visual effects?”
“Nice try,” Flora said, though the corner of her mouth twitched.
She wiped her mouth with her napkin and stood up, clapping her hands together.
“Right. On that note, dinner is over before anyone accidentally burns down the garage. Kids, you are on full kitchen duty tonight. Clear the table, load the dishwasher, and wipe down the counters.”
A collective groan rose from Rhys, Kenzi, and Amelia, but they immediately started gathering plates. Flora ran a tight ship, and arguing was futile.
Flora turned her attention to Bear and Dog, waving a hand toward the hallway.
“You two. Out of my way. Go retreat to the den and do whatever brooding, Alpha-male strategizing you’ve been itching to do since Viper’s date was brought up.
Chores will take about an hour, and then we’ll reconvene for blackberry cobbler. ”
“Yes, ma’am,” Bear rumbled, standing and pulling Flora into a deep kiss, one that promised more later when the house was quiet. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“I know,” Flora replied, a soft smile playing on her lips as she pulled away. “An hour. Don’t make me come looking for you.”
Dog grabbed his glass of water and stood, giving Flora a grateful nod. “Thanks for dinner, Flora. It was exactly what I needed.”
“Anytime, Dog. Now go.”
Bear led the way down the hall to his home office, pulling the heavy oak door shut behind them.
The muffled sounds of the kids bickering over who had to scrub the roasting pan faded away, leaving the room in a thick, suddenly serious quiet.
Bear moved to his desk, but didn’t sit down.
He leaned against the edge, crossing his massive arms.
The relaxed, family-man demeanor vanished, replaced instantly by the sharp focus of a tactical team leader. He looked at his friend.
Dog took a drink of his water, the warmth of the dinner fading as the reality of his day rushed back in. His gaze was sharp. “Anything back from Link on Margaret Fletcher?”
Bear pulled his phone from his pocket, tapping the screen to bring up a secure message thread. “Yeah, he pinged my encrypted channel about ten minutes ago. Good thing you called earlier for the rush job. What’s got you so spooked about her?”
Dog nodded, his jaw tightening as the image of her terrified face flashed in his mind.
“She came into my office today looking for a job. The moment I mentioned a standard background check, she went white as a sheet. Total, textbook panic response. She’s running from something, Bear. I need to know what.”
Bear’s expression darkened as he scrolled through Link’s message. “Not a what. A who. Link got a few hits right off the initial ping. The Fletcher name is old Richmond money—very quiet, very insulated. But he dug past the maiden name and found a marriage license.”
Bear looked up, meeting Dog’s eyes, all traces of the jovial family man gone. “To a Charles Montgomery Winslow.”
Dog felt a cold knot tighten in his stomach. The inconvenient truth he’d suspected was now confirmed. “Winslow. Who is he?”
“That’s where it gets complicated,” Bear said, tossing the phone onto the desk so Dog could see the spiderweb of data Link had already begun mapping out.
“Link only had time for a surface scratch, but it’s enough to set off every alarm bell we have.
Winslow is heavily connected politically out of Pennsylvania.
Old money mixed with new power. Link said the financial footprint is massive—a maze of shell corporations, offshore accounts, and aggressive PACs.
The guy has serious reach and a lot of lawyers. ”
Dog absorbed the information, his gut screaming that this was even worse than he’d originally thought. “She’s too vulnerable to leave out there alone, Bear. If a guy with that kind of power and money is looking for her, she doesn’t stand a chance on her own.”
Bear crossed his arms again, nodding slowly. “We’ll figure out what kind of hell she walked out of, and exactly what kind of hell is following her. Link is digging deeper now, but with financials this buried, we might need a specialist.”
Dog stared at the name Charles Montgomery Winslow glowing on the phone screen.
“I know a specialist,” he said quietly, the Boston accent he usually suppressed clipping his words.
“My brother, Will. He’s still swimming in the Boston financial world.
If there’s a dirty dollar to be traced in those shell corporations, he knows exactly how to find its shadow. ”