Under Fire (Elite Force 3)

Brandon tugged her arm, the familiar feel and scent of him soothing her fear.

The gun in his hand, however, she did not recognize.

“Cat, get back!” Brandon hauled her to her feet, his body between her and the men in the car.

Where were her neighbors? She scanned the street for someone, anyone. But either her two elderly neighbors had their hearing aids turned down or they were already calling the cops. Hopefully the latter. The rest of the houses were empty, either for sale or foreclosed. She should call the police, except her cell phone wasn’t clipped to her shorts anymore.

Brandon aimed the weapon at the departing silver sedan. He popped off shots, pocking the ground around the car, flattening one tire. The sedan didn’t even slow. The tire rim shot sparks behind it as the car peeled out around the corner.

And what about her dogs? Oh God, what if one of them had been hit by a stray bullet from the guy with a shotgun? She yanked free of Brandon and raced for the backyard. She heard curses flying from both men but didn’t stop to explain.

She shoved through the gate and into the backyard. The pack peeled away from the fence and circled around her. Frantically, she counted and inventoried, her heart pounding… Tabitha? Catriona dropped to her knees beside the massive Argentine Dogo to inspect the streak of red slashing across her white coat. Her training as a vet tech roared to the surface as she carefully examined what appeared to be a simple grazing. Thank God.

Brandon’s hand clamped her shoulder. She looked back to see him standing guardedly by Jose James. Who also had a frickin’ gun in his hand?

The two men scowled at each other, weapons gripped firmly.

Her heart hammered against her ribs and she wondered if she might need her old inhaler again. “Hey, fellas, can we all draw down now and maybe someone could tell me what’s going on? Why were the guys in that car shooting at me?”

Brandon’s big black gun didn’t waver from Jose. “What are you doing here?”

Catriona gripped his shirt to restrain him—as if she really even could. “That’s Jose James. He said he was from Patrick Air Force Base, and he was asking about you.”

Muscles flexed with tension under her hands. “Is that so, James?”

Jose pointed the muzzle of his weapon skyward, his hands up, nonthreatening. “I’m here for Rachel Flores. She would have come herself, but we needed to know if you were being watched. Good thing we checked, isn’t it? Now how about we step inside? While you’re taking care of the dog’s injury, we can talk.”

***

Liam sent the dogs ahead of them into the seedy motel room.

As much as he hated calling it quits for the day, they weren’t going to reach the cabin tonight. Traveling those Everglades waters in the dark would be dangerous enough on his own. But with Rachel along? Not wise. They could both use the sleep. With luck, he would hear something from Jose soon anyway.

Meanwhile, he needed to keep busy, recon the place, make contingency plans. Do anything other than think about the moment he’d seen her defend that puppy.

He had one mission tonight, keeping Rachel safe, and sadly, this place offered their best bet for flying under the radar.

“Sorry about the one-star rating on the accommodations.” He gave the dogs the freedom to sniff at the two saggy beds and cheap laminate furniture with a serious seventies vibe.

“No need to apologize.” She dropped her backpack on the chair closest to the door. “I understand that finding a place that accepts cash without requiring you to show a credit card as well limited our choices. At least there aren’t bugs.”

Or were there? Best to keep a light on tonight for more than one reason.

He tossed her a bedroll he’d brought from the Jeep. “We can spread out the sleeping bags so you don’t have to actually come into contact with the linens.”

“It’s not that bad, and it’s certainly better than some places I’ve stayed. Remember those half-crumbling cottages we stayed at in the Bahamas after the earthquake? At least the floor’s level here, we have hot water, and there won’t be any aftershocks.”

“True, true.” He flicked on a second light under a cheesy dime-store painting of a palm tree on a beach. Music from the marsh-side bar thrummed through the night. He would have preferred somewhere more secluded, but as she’d pointed out, their choices were limited. “I’m gonna get the rest of our gear out of the Jeep.”

Before someone stole it.

He’d parked the vehicle right in front of their room. As he walked in and out again, he saw Rachel push back the curtains for better access to the AC. They could sure use some air moving in the muggy, musty room. How much more humid could it get without actually raining? Rachel twisted knobs until tepid gusts wafted from the groaning wall unit. He’d bunked in worse and so had she. That didn’t mean he was happy with having her here.

Within five minutes, he’d stacked their stockpile in a corner. “Stay put, and I’ll get the food this time.”

She hitched a hand on her hip, her spunk increasing exponentially since she’d first shown up in his life again. “Worried I’ll make a scene by kicking someone else’s ass?”

“Or that someone will grab yours. Have you looked around this place?” He paused in the doorway. Was it safer to leave her here, locked in the room, even though she would be alone? She had weapons—that she didn’t know how to use. “Fine, then. Come with me, stick to my side, and we’ll get supper together.”