Under Fire (Elite Force 3)

He scooped it up. “Here. Even though my phone’s secure, keep it brief, just in case.”

“Thank you…” For the phone and so much more. She really hated herself right now for all she was asking of Liam.

As she dialed, police sirens whined faintly in the background along with the ringing phone, ringing, ringing, until finally Brandon’s voice mail picked up again.

Hell. Her hand fisted around Liam’s phone.

Leaving a message felt like a pitifully inadequate option, with buildings blowing up and a high-speed chase on a bridge. She couldn’t even bring herself to entertain the notion that he wasn’t picking up because whoever had been threatening her and Liam may have already gotten to Brandon.

***

Twirling a sprig of honeysuckle vine between her fingers, Catriona leaned a hip against the chain-link gate and watched Brandon, in his truck. He’d been sitting there for at least twenty minutes. But then he did that sometimes. Zoned out, thinking.

Except she wasn’t doing much else either. Just standing here. A little pathetic actually, watching and drooling over him.

Although, who was going to rat her out? Her staff was made up of a couple of college students, neither of whom was here now. Her only real buddies weren’t particularly verbal, sticking to barking or howling. While she understood every nuance of their sounds, the rest of the world wasn’t going to pick up on any hint from them that their caregiver had a serious crush on a guy who barely knew she was alive.

A guy who sometimes seemed to doubt he was still alive himself.

Across the yard in the parking area, Brandon slumped in the front seat of his truck. She could see his fists clench tighter as if he was resisting the urge to pound the steering wheel. Instead, he gently—carefully—reached for his dog. He buried his fingers in the dense fur.

She couldn’t pry her eyes away from how the sea breeze played with his dark hair, thicker than usual, since he’d let it grow while on leave. His face was bristly, just unshaven enough to be scruffy. Manly.

She knew he was on leave from the military after a rough deployment overseas and he had one of Rachel’s therapy dogs, so he must be suffering from some kind of trauma. But beyond that? He was a mystery to her.

One she really wanted to solve. She tucked the honeysuckle into her pocket.

Unlatching the fence, she angled through sideways, careful not to let any dogs out. She secured the lock after her and walked gingerly toward his vehicle, slowly, crunching gravel to give him an advance warning that she approached. He had one elbow crooked out of the open window, country music drifting from the radio.

Still, he jolted when she cleared her throat. “Hey, uh, didn’t see you coming.” He stepped out of the truck, the engine still idling, radio humming. “Is there some kind of a problem?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing.” She cocked her head to the side, late-night breeze caressing her cheek. “You look angry, and you haven’t left.”

“Rachel isn’t answering. And so far, she hasn’t left a message.” He waved his cell phone, green LED panel glowing in the dark. He tapped the roof of his truck, music from the radio drifting softly through the open door. “I was just searching my iPhone and listening to the news for more details on that explosion. Shit, it sounds like it was really bad—Uh, sorry for cursing, Cat.”

Cat? No one had called her that before. Except him. Now. “I’ve heard worse, but thanks for the apology anyhow.”

“From what I can tell, the explosion wasn’t just on Rachel’s block. It was her building.”

Her heart leaped up to her throat. “Oh, God. When did you last speak to Rachel?”

“This morning. And you?”

“When she dropped off the dogs, nothing more after that.” She reached for her cell clipped to her belt, dialed… listened. Darn it. “Straight to voice mail. Her phone must be off.” Or worse. “I’m sure she wasn’t there. Who pays a dog-sitter and goes home?”

Still, something was very wrong here. Rachel never, never disappeared without leaving concrete contact info. She was too devoted to her animals.

He scratched his head. “I have a couple other numbers I can call, people who train the dogs with her. Maybe they’ll know something.”

Nodding, she pressed her cell phone to her chest. “You go ahead and call them then. I’ll just take deep breaths so I don’t hyperventilate.”

She used to do that all the time as a kid, before she’d gotten her asthma under control. Inhalers. Not sexy.

Not that Brandon would find her sexy when they were worried about Rachel. Or even if they weren’t neck deep in worry, why would he notice her in her baggy dog-lady clothes, covered in canine slobber? But she couldn’t change who she was. She hadn’t been able to do it to please her parents. She wasn’t going to do it to win over some guy.

Even a guy as muscular, smart, intriguing—and strangely vulnerable—as Brandon.

His rumbling voice rode the breeze. Each time he spoke, her hopes rose, only to fall as he left yet another message or thanked someone for their time, even though nobody seemed to know a thing about where Rachel had gone today.