Under Fire (Elite Force 3)

At least they knew she was okay. And Rachel’s other two dogs were safe here.

Granted, all of the animals were agitated from so many drive-bys this morning. Usually, her little beach dead-end road was quiet, other than people dropping off their pets. There was a sign at the top of the corner that plainly said “Private” and “No Thru Traffic.”

There had even been fresh tire tracks outside in the driveway when they’d gotten back last night. Which could just mean someone had pulled in to turn around, then left. She’d actually forgotten about it until now. She’d been distracted from the tire marks when Brandon reached to take the pillow and blanket from her before crashing on her sofa.

And since he was still sleeping, she needed to keep the dogs quiet so they didn’t wake Brandon. She pulled her eyes away from him and slipped through the kitchen to the back door to meet clients for the day. With luck, they would all drop off their pooches before he woke up, because she was really looking forward to sharing breakfast with him.

A year ago, she wouldn’t have had the confidence to pursue him, but building her own business had given her a new sense of her own worth. She didn’t need to “settle,” the way her mother had always told her. And she didn’t need to assume guys were only interested because of her parents’ nonexistent money.

Yes, she’d dated a couple of losers in the past, but in those days, she’d been too swayed by her mother’s influence. She hadn’t trusted her own judgment enough.

But no longer. Others might have concerns about Brandon, but she saw deeper. She saw the man, and by God, she wanted him. She would find out what it was like to sleep beside him. To soothe him back to a peaceful rest when dreams made him twitchy.

Scratching Tabitha’s head on her way past, she grabbed a bag of dog biscuits and headed for the fenced area. Just in time too, as another car cruised by slowly. Sheesh, was it her imagination, or was everyone driving silver sedans today?

***

Rachel grabbed the roll bar on the rusted piece of crap Jeep Liam had bought with cash at ten this morning. By eleven, they’d parked the Suburban at an airport and started driving south. She’d thought at first he planned to go find Brandon, but they’d passed that turnoff hours ago. Now it was late afternoon. The open expanse of ocean had long ago shifted to marshy everglades.

Trees stretched skyward, creating an intermittent leafy canopy. Disco was seriously loving the open-air ride, his muzzle tipped up into the wind, taking in the rush of scents.

With no roof, if it rained, they were screwed.

They hit a pothole and the nonexistent shock absorbers did little to keep her from lifting off the seat. Only the belt kept her inside. Disco jockeyed for balance in back with a skill earned from climbing over collapsed rubble during training and searches. The Lab tried to wedge himself between the seats, huffing as he rested his nose on her shoulder.

The Jeep ate up the miles to heaven only knew where. She wished she could just let the wind unravel the tension inside her the way it played with Liam’s blond hair. But there wasn’t enough wind to sweep away the stress of the past twenty-four hours. She’d been threatened. Almost run off the road. Questioned by the OSI. Running from the OSI.

And in the middle of it all, she’d reunited with the one man to break through her barriers since Caden had died.

For about the fiftieth time today, she wished she’d come to see Liam when she first moved to Florida so they could have sorted through these feelings in a normal setting.

“I’m sorry for all you have to do for me. That sure was a lot of money to spend on a disposable car.”

“Who says I intend to throw it away? I love Jeeps. And after seeing my pristine one get trashed, I may go for the beat-up look from now on.” He draped his wrist over the steering wheel, wind ruffling his close-shorn hair. “When insurance pays on the other one, I’ll make out like a bandit.”

His weathered skin soaked up more of the sun high overhead, his five-o’clock shadow shifting more into a scruffy beard. He wore camo pants and a simple T-shirt now, looking more like a hunter than a clean-cut military man. The transformation was about more than the clothes. He’d somehow… changed.

And she found this side of him every bit as much of a turn-on as the other facets of Liam McCabe she’d seen so far. He was a formidable man.

Disco sighed again, letting loose a hefty dose of dog breath.

“Fine, Disco. Come on up here, boy.” She hugged her knees, the back so crammed with gear, he might as well take up residence on the floorboards in front of her. Once her dog settled, she turned back to Liam. “You’re nice to make this sound like it isn’t a huge pain in the ass.”

“We really don’t have a choice, do we?”

“We? Me. I don’t have a choice. You do. This isn’t your mess.”

“Well, it is now. And believe me, I wouldn’t have left the base if I hadn’t thought it was absolutely necessary. If Special Agent Cramer hadn’t thought it was necessary. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Holy crap. She slumped back in her seat. It was worse than a matter of not trusting the OSI to believe her. If Agent Cramer actually wanted them away from the base, then something seriously bad was going on there.

“Can you tell me where we’re heading now?” She tipped a bottle of water up. Then passed it to Liam. They needed to stay hydrated in this heat. Sure, it was a small way to take care of him, to have his back, but she would do what she could when she could.

He took the bottle from her and placed his mouth where hers had just been. Such a simple move. But so intimate all the same.

Liam passed the drink back to her. “I know a place in the Everglades where we should be able to hang out until I get a better handle on what’s going down. I’ve got some feelers out to find Harris,” he said vaguely, “and I want us to be available for a meet if that all works out.”

“Why not try to find him ourselves?” The thought of how Brandon was going to freak out, to think she’d sold him out… She shivered in spite of the sweltering Florida heat. “He’s not… stable.”