Primal Force (10 page)

The secret to successful manipulation was to nudge along events that might have taken place naturally. That way the pawn would swear, if asked, that it was her idea.

“Erin. It's your favorite father-in-law. How's your husband's campaign coming along?”

 

CHAPTER EIGHT

Yardley waited at passenger pickup in the Richmond International Airport for a brother she'd seen rarely in their adult lives. Until six months ago, it had been five years since they were last together. But there was no mistaking Lauray as he came through the exit doors.

She had to stifle a laugh. He held the leash of a dog that was exactly what he'd described, a cutesy rust-red mash-up of golden retriever and poodle with an enormous curling tail that, sure enough, reminded her of a Cheez Doodle. The contrast between man and dog couldn't have been more startling. Wearing tan cargo pants and a dark-green tee that revealed the definition of a man in his prime, Lauray looked hard. Despite the beard and untamed black hair, he looked like a man in charge. Even with a froufrou dog on a leash.

As proof, a female flight attendant was hurrying along beside him to keep pace with his stride.

Yardley fell in behind them as they neared the baggage carousel in time to hear the flight attendant say, “So I'll see you, later?”

Law wasn't looking at his companion but slowly scanning the congested area full of impatient travelers. “I have your digits.”

The young woman's wide smile faltered at the noncommittal answer. “Okay then.” She bent to pat the head of the dog he had on a leash. “Such a sweet dog. I hope you can find a good home for him.” She glanced up at Law, looking like she'd rather be petting him. “Bye.”

Yardley shook her head as the flight attendant walked away. Despite the threat to the female population, she was pleased to see the old Law back in business.

More curious about Law's other companion, she turned her attention to his dog. Unlike many American canine breeders who focused as much on appearance as ability, Yardley took the European approach: Dogs were chosen for training based solely on their ability to perform a desired task.

The goldendoodle moved slowly but deliberately behind Law as he stood in the open waiting for his gear. It was the only clue that the shifting crowd of people in the congested area was agitating her master.

Yardley shifted her gaze to her brother's profile. His neutral expression gave away nothing, as she expected from a trained law officer. She glanced back at the canine. Perceptive dog.

Sliding into his line of sight, she offered Law a sisterly assessment. “You look like hell. What's with the survivalist beard?”

Law gave his sibling a quick once-over. “Nice to see you, too.”

Law knew he looked rough around the edges but he certainly couldn't return the insult. His half sister had always been a stunner. Even dressed in jeans, a tailored shirt, and military boots, she still managed to look feminine. Her wide mouth and elegant cheekbones were striking, especially when paired with her no-nonsense gaze. Eyes, blacker than his, revealed their shared Native American genes through their respective mothers. Her long dark-red hair, today pulled into a ponytail, flagged the Cajun ancestry of their father.

Yardley bent down to dog level and spoke to Samantha. “Hi there, girl. My name's Yardley.”

Samantha wagged her tail but looked back at Law for instruction. When he gave the signal, she stepped forward to be petted.

Yardley pulled a treat out of her pocket.

Samantha sniffed in the direction of Yardley's palm but then backed up and sat down, leaning slightly against Law's leg as she returned her attention to him.

Yardley stood and pocketed the treat, nodding in approval. “She's been proofed. That's unusual for a dog so young.”

“Checking my ability to judge the thoroughness of a canine's instruction?”

“Maybe. Last time I saw you, you'd lost discipline and were getting fat.”

Law frowned down at her, thanks to the three-inch difference in their heights. “I was never fat.”

“Waddling, goosey-goose fat.
Quack, quack, quack.
” She imitated a goose walk, drawing laughter from a nearby child.

Law shook his head and lifted his gear off the carousel. “Let's get out of here before you embarrass yourself even more.”

Yardley fell into step beside her brother. As they reached the exit doors they each reached for mirrored shades and donned them with movements that looked choreographed.

“What was that about you looking for a home for your dog?”

“Conversation.” Law sighed. Obviously she'd overheard his exchange with the flight attendant. Nothing got past Yard. He'd have to remember that.

Once in her jeep, Yardley turned to him. “Food?”

He nodded.

They ended up in a burger joint northwest of Richmond's city limits. Once he found a table at the rear where he could position himself with his back to a wall, she ordered a burger without bread, and a salad. He ordered the half-pound bacon blue cheeseburger with a side of onion rings.

“Nice to see that you're keeping your body clean.”

Law grinned wide as he lifted the massive burger to his mouth. “I'm on furlough. What about you? You heard from
him
lately?”

Yardley's face went blank as she reached for her fork.

Law watched her while he chewed. They didn't need familiarity to sense trouble in each other. “Has it been more than a month?”

“Almost two.” She was still staring straight ahead.

“He works for Doctors Without Borders, right? Why aren't his people talking to you?”

“I don't have to right to ask them anything about him.”

Law knew what that meant. Yardley wasn't listed on the guy's who-to-call-if list.

“What about your spook grapevine?”

She shook her head. “The usual channels aren't open to me.”

Law almost asked why before his own covert experience kicked in. She couldn't ask because most likely he wasn't listed “on paper” as being wherever the hell he was.

Yardley had mentioned she was seeing a guy when she'd visited him months ago. Which had shocked him. Like him, she kept her personal life personal. Her private life was downright classified. Even now, he knew nothing about the guy beyond the fact that he worked for Doctors Without Borders. Yardley wouldn't say what he did, or even his name. But the fact that this mystery man owned Yardley's heart told Law all he needed to know about the guy. He had to be a stand-up, dedicated prince of badassery.

Yardley wasn't likely to fall for a doctor. Law suspected the man worked security, off the record, for the organization that by its very nature struggled to remain independent and neutral, not part of any government or international system. They didn't work first-world places. More like third, fourth, and falling-off-the-map places.

Now he was missing in some godforsaken shithole in the remotest part of one of the most dangerous places in the world. Two months was a long time to be out in the cold. Yard was worried. Now he was, too.

Law looked down at his empty plate feeling bad for having brought the subject up. Yard was hurting and he had nothing to offer her private pain but respect.

He didn't bother with the usual
He'll turn up
or
He's going to be fine
. Those words would be wishful thinking at best. There was nothing he could do to help. He wasn't even certain he could save himself, at the moment.

His mind slid into his own misery. He'd walked out on Jori. And that, he was discovering, was going to bother him worse than the itch he'd gotten to scratch.

“You seeing anyone?” Yardley was studying him now with the interest of a K-9 on the scent.

Why had he mentioned relationships? He never talked about his. Then he remembered Yardley had talked with Jori when she answered his phone. Time to cover up.

“Usual story. She kicked me out.”

“Hard to believe.”

“You helped. Thanks for being all mysterious on the phone with her.”

Yardley chewed a forkful of salad to give herself time to think. She'd spent her professional life working with highly disciplined, highly motivated professionals, mostly men, in law enforcement and the military. Sometimes those who partnered with her highly intelligent, highly motivated animals were more in need of TLC than their canines. Dogs were better at getting what they needed than many of their human counterparts. First-responder handlers, always the ones turned to in a crisis, learned to tuck their emotions away while they coped with the needs of others. Those without strong family ties sometimes lost the ability to relate to their own needs.

Her brother wasn't even on the map about his own feelings. Once he'd thought he was invincible. Now that life had shown him otherwise, he was hurting in a way that might just destroy him.

Of course, she couldn't very well point that out. He wouldn't thank her for it. He might even walk out. He'd done so before, most memorably at the reading of their father's will eight years ago. His final words had stayed with her, along with a certain amount of guilt.

He didn't give a shit for me when I was alive. I don't need shit-all from him now.

Law had refused the inheritance of Harmonie Kennels and never looked back. Her good fortune, but her brother's loss. No one, especially Law, needed to be alone forever.

She'd seen that micro expression of hurt when she'd mentioned the woman. Maybe she threw him out, or maybe he ran. Either way, he wasn't happy about it. And that might just be the best news of all.

If Law was emotionally involved, even if he saw it as a negative, that was more than enough to work with for a smart woman willing to do the mining of the heart of a difficult man. A woman who trained dogs would know how to work with Law's nonverbal way of dealing with his emotions.

Yardley reached over and snagged one of his onion rings. “What was wrong with her?” Law looked confused by the question, but she knew it was a dodge. “The woman who threw you out.”

It took Law a split second to choose the most offputting fact about Jori. “She's an ex-con.”

Yardley broke into laughter. “Oh my God. You've turned into a prude. I remember a time during your teens when Dad bailed you out regularly.”

Law sent her a hooded look. “I liked you better as a distant relation. Far distant.”

Yardley shrugged. “I'll remember
that
the next time you ask for a favor.”

Law's interest quickened. “So where's the file?”

“At home. And we're going to finish this meal before we go there. So, dig in.”

Law stuffed his mouth with his burger as his thoughts wandered to Jori.

She'd told him she'd be fine. But he couldn't forget the image of her tangled in the sheets, wearing two different-colored socks and nothing else. The image burned through him like molten glass. Thinking of her equaled a hard-on. Nothing had changed because he now knew how it felt when she came with him buried to the balls inside her. No, wait, it had.

He closed his eyes briefly. It had felt so damn good he wanted to cry.

“She's too nice for me.”

Law glanced up, expecting laughter from Yardley, but she was just staring at him with a thoughtful expression. “She's a sweet girl who caught a bad break.”

He was pretty sure of that even though he'd stopped short of reading the newspaper about her trial that he called up on his notebook while waiting for his flight. What was he going to do with anything he learned about her? He didn't plan to see her again. He'd deleted the article unread. But Yardley was looking at him as if she knew he'd been tempted. “What?”

“You think she wasn't guilty.”

“It doesn't matter, either way.” That much was true.

Yardley waited for him to continue. Instead, Law pulled an onion ring from his pile and offered it to Sam. The dog scarfed it down without chewing then sat up and nosed his thigh, hopeful of another bite.

Law broke off a portion of his burger patty and placed it on a napkin before putting it on the floor for Sam. One thing he'd discovered about his new companion, Sam liked to eat.

“Are you going to tell me about her?”

Law hunched a shoulder. “I got this damn doodle because of her. Sam's a lot like her trainer.”

“You mean she's friendly, cute, down-to-earth, good-natured, patient, and constantly evaluating and adjusting to your moods? I can see why you wouldn't want to be around her. Sounds like a horror of a woman.”

Law frowned at his plate. “I don't like
me
around her.”

“And that means?”

“I was … not kind.”

“Oh.” Yardley swallowed her smile. Being rude had never been a problem for her brother before. “The way you left it between you, do you think she'll call if she decides she wants to see you again?”

He sent her a hard look. “I didn't give her my number.”

Yardley sat back, watching him eat but saying nothing more. She didn't know her half brother very well. Growing up, they'd only had contact for a few weeks a year. Their father purposely didn't want his children to be too close.

It had nothing to do with their different mothers. Bronson Battise's philosophy was that if a man couldn't stand alone, he wasn't a man. Women were something to protect and enjoy as long as a man was interested, but no more important than that. And just as easily discarded.

Yardley had suffered through that philosophy, becoming as much like a son as Bronson Battise would allow. It had never really occurred to her until now that Law had suffered, too.

She'd always thought her brother was a carbon copy of their father. A man's man whom no woman would ever tie down for long. But maybe, beneath that Battise exterior, beat a different kind of heart. Perhaps Law was like her. He had learned to cover up his softer self the way she had, for protection.