Chapter 14
Storm clouds gathered overhead as Liam looped the line around the dock post. He secured the newly arrived airboat, jam-packed full of passengers—Jose James, the Rochas, and a couple he assumed to be Brandon Harris and Catriona Whittier.
And of course, there were two more dogs—the Rochas’ husky-malamute, Chewie, and some Australian shepherd mix he didn’t recognize.
Liam extended his hand to help the women disembark. Thunder rumbled in the distance. “Hey, Rocha, did someone mail out party invitations and forget to send one to me?”
Wade Rocha chuckled softly. “You didn’t seriously think you could cut me out of this, and Sunny isn’t the type to sit waiting in the wings, ya know?”
“I appreciate the backup.” He should have known Rocha wouldn’t be left behind. Liam would have done the same in his position.
But so many women to protect. Although better here than out in the open at home. And how much help would the new guy provide, especially if he was battling PTSD?
Liam thrust his hand out. “Lieutenant Harris? Nice to finally meet you.”
Brandon hopped from the boat and clasped Liam’s hand in a firm, steady shake. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate your help more than I can say.”
The lieutenant’s eyes appeared lucid. His hair was shaggier than regulation, but not unusual for someone on extended leave. He wore khaki shorts and a polo shirt with a college logo—The Citadel. Sure he was dusty and sweaty, just like the rest of the people stepping out of the boat, shoes thudding on the dock. No immediate red flags, but Liam withheld final judgment. Trusting this guy who’d put Rachel at risk would take time.
Rachel.
Even thinking her name right now made him want to hide her out here where he could keep her safe forever—and make love to her without worrying that all their new roommates would overhear.
Liam gestured everyone down the dock toward the cabin. “Let’s get inside before those clouds open up.”
He led the way down the dock, a fat raindrop landing on his nose just before he stepped under the porch on stilts. Swinging the door wide, he waved everyone inside without once taking his eyes off Harris. Gear piled up in the corner until it looked like a scouting camp out on steroids. Rain picked up speed, pinging the tin roof.
Murky light streamed through the windows. He would crank the generator soon, but for now, he needed to get a handle on Brandon Harris before anything else. Humid though it was, Liam simply opened windows for a cross breeze.
He dragged a chair from the table and started an unofficial circle. The women claimed the couch, creating a wall of estrogen, and his team buddies took seats. Harris chose the bar stool nearest the door, his Australian shepherd–beagle mutt firmly at his side as if they both might bolt.
Elbows on his knees, Liam leaned forward. “Okay, Harris, you have our complete and undivided attention.”
The young security cop folded his hands over his stomach. “Open-minded attention?”
Cocky bastard.
“Are you in a position to be picky? We’ve gone to a lot of trouble for you.”
“For Rachel. I know you’re really here for her.”
“Because you put her life in danger,” Liam snapped before he could call the words back. Hell, he didn’t even want to.
Wind picked up speed in the storm, the eaves creaking at the force, rain misting in through the open windows.
“I did. And I’m sorry for that.” Brandon’s eyes shuffled to Rachel’s with unmistakable contrition. “Honest to God, Rachel, I wish I could go back and do things differently.”
“How?” She reached out to him. “Believe me, I’ve thought about this a hundred different ways and I think we both acted in all the logical, legal ways to report suspicious activity.”
Liam looked back and forth between them, searching for signs that they were more than just connected by the situation. And what do ya know? Catriona Whittier was watching their interaction with the same interest. The woman wasn’t at all what he would have expected from a pet-sitter. She was so thin, damn near frail, she looked like the wind could carry her away. Even her red hair looked fragile, scraped back from her face. She appeared passive.
Except when she looked at Brandon Harris. Then her eyes went fierce.
All right then. Time to figure out exactly what Harris knew. “I guess that makes us your last hope, lieutenant. Convince us.”
Harris’s hand fell to rest on top of his shepherd mutt’s head. “Back in the day before we were at war with everybody all the time, security cops were divided into two categories: law enforcement and base defense. Now we’re all mostly focused on base defense here and overseas, and undermanned for the task.”
Liam nodded. “That’s a heavy load to carry, especially in a war zone.”