Under Fire (6 page)

Catriona was neither of those. She was… quiet. Peaceful.

There’d been a time he lived for conflict on an adrenaline-soaked field. Football or battle. He was all-in, gung ho, and kicking ass. He’d had no idea how valuable peace could be until he lost it altogether.

He needed to quit staring at the moon and get his dog.

Brandon jogged up the driveway and around the pink stucco one-story on the beach to the fenced waterside area around back. A pricey piece of prime real estate she’d inherited from her parents. Or so Catriona had told him once.

Nearly mile-high palm trees swayed and rustled, roots holding firm against ocean winds that were mere puffs compared to hurricanes of the past. Trees only got that tall over time. Their height testified to her long line of privilege.

Yet she chose to spend her days with dogs rather than the social set.

Barking their heads off at him from inside the house, a dachshund and beagle hooked their paws on the half-open windows, the fans cranked on high.

“Yeah, guys, I know you’re there and I’m on your turf,” he said.

It was easier to talk to the dogs than to people now. He cleared the house and came to the gate, a brightly painted sign illuminated with a spotlight:
Wags
and
Whiskers
Doggy
Daycare.

He walked under the honeysuckle arbor just before the gate leading to a fenced backyard with privacy wood along the sides and chain link on the end that faced the ocean. The enclosed lawn sported baby pools, tires to jump through, and buckets of drinking water. Oversized doghouses were painted to resemble the main house. Little froufrou pampered fluff balls with bows on their furry ears mingled with the larger Labs and bulldogs.

So different from his boyhood farm where the animals had roamed free… although the scent of honeysuckle was the same. Except in that wide-open childhood, he’d lost more than one family pet to a roadside accident or a neighbor’s buckshot.

The thought of something happening to Harley gripped him. And then,
bam
. There came that cold sweat again. His feet stumbled on… nothing. They just tangled up.

“Harley?” he shouted, grabbing the fence for balance, searching the yard as motion sensors clicked floodlights on.

Catriona stepped from behind one of the doghouses. “Hey, Brandon, Harley’s inside, zonked out from playing all afternoon. Come with me and I’ll show you her favorite napping spot.”

Catriona trailed her fingers down a wire fence around a dry baby pool with a Dalmatian curled up with her litter of puppies. She wound her way through the pack of dogs, lightly touching each on the head as she passed, fearless, at peace. This calm, collected woman didn’t know the meaning of a cold sweat.

As always, his eyes were drawn to her, holding.

She had ginger hair, whispery fine and swept back with a headband. She always wore jean capris with a loose T-shirt, dark colored. Most likely so the dog fur and muddy pawprints didn’t show. Not that she ever appeared anything other than serene, natural. She never put on makeup but always wore a hint of sunburn on her cheeks and a light sheen of perspiration that glistened better than the high-priced face creams Stella—his last girlfriend—had kept lined up on her side of the bathroom vanity.

Before she’d dumped his ass a month after he returned all loco in the head. Not that he could blame her.

Still, he couldn’t help but think how Catriona was nothing like Stella or any type he’d hooked up with in the past. But he wasn’t the same man now that he’d been before leaving for Afghanistan. A moot point, really, since he wouldn’t be hooking up with Catriona or any woman. He had nothing to offer—in or out of bed. These days, he felt next to nothing, like someone had short-circuited his mainframe.

Given how raw he was today after the therapy session from hell, it would be best for all if he just hauled out of here. “No need to stop what you’re doing. I’ll get Harley and leave a check on the kitchen counter.”

He was a fucking coward.

“Really, it’s okay. I actually took some photos of the dogs, and there are some great shots of Harley.”

Shots.

Crap.

The word
shot
alone turned his cold sweat downright icy. “Pictures?”

He forced himself to act normal. To pretend.

“A video, too.” A smile lit her pretty hazel eyes. “That dog of yours is a real ham.”

“Thanks. But I should go. Long day”—with the shrink, then pounding a punching bag, trying like hell to get back to work again. To get his military career back on track.

He’d gone to The Citadel military college on a football scholarship, played quarterback. Was pretty much a rock star in his hometown, the golden boy with a bright future in the air force as a security cop.

He’d understood a Middle East deployment would come his way. He’d expected and embraced the opportunity. He’d realized it would be tough—he wasn’t delusional. Not then, anyway. He’d been prepped for the
possibility
of PTSD.

He’d just never really expected it to happen to him.

This fear that gripped his chest like a heart attack without warning. First time he’d heard fireworks after coming home, he’d damn near pissed himself.

Warrior strong?

Fuck.

She touched his arm lightly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” He shook off the fog. How long had he been standing here, staring off into space? “We were talking about videos, right?”

“Exactly. Harley played in the pool to cool off, splashing like crazy. She’s dry now, though.” Her eyes narrowed too perceptively. “Would you like a cup of coffee before you head back out?”

“I just need to pick up my girl.” Something cold nailed the back of his calf just below his shorts. He jolted around hard and fast. Only a dog. A familiar blue pit bull. “Isn’t this one of Rachel’s?”

“Ruby Two. Right. Which is funny, since she’s blue. Both of Rachel’s new trainees are here.” She started toward the house, and he moved in step with her. “She took Disco with her when she stopped by early this morning.”

“Where did she go?” He scratched the tightness in his chest. He’d been planning to call Rachel, to talk about… his dog. The whole pet-therapy gig. Not that he totally bought into it. He just liked having a dog. Nothing more.

“Rachel didn’t say.” Catriona swung open a reinforced screen door leading onto an oversized porch. “Just that she needed some time away and paid for a week’s worth of sitting in advance, not that I ever worry about her settling up. I would give her the time for free in exchange for all the work she does.”

He looked fast, searching for signs she was digging at his problem. He found nothing in her eyes but more of the peace. What would she think of him if he spilled all his whacked-out conspiracy theories? But he kept his mouth shut. Dumping that on her wasn’t fair—hadn’t been fair to Rachel either, she’d just caught him in a weak moment. Once he had his feet on solid ground again, he would get to the root of what he’d heard, find those responsible, and nail their asses to the wall.

For now, he had to bide his time and get his head on straight.

Catriona scratched Tabitha’s head between ears that had been cropped with scissors before the Argentine Dogo been rescued from a Miami street gang. The gentle glide of her fingers against the sleek white fur seemed so damn soothing. “Thank goodness Rachel decided to get away, though, or she could have been hurt in that explosion.”

He looked up fast to her face. “What did you just say?”

“The explosion, it was on Rachel’s block. I thought I mentioned that earlier. Sorry, I’m so used to hanging out with the pooches, I lose some of my people skills.”

She communicated just fine. More likely she’d told him while he was in his fog state. “There’s a fire in Rachel’s neighborhood?”

His mind started racing. This couldn’t be coincidental.

In a moment of weakness he’d told Rachel Flores things he should have kept to himself. Going to the authorities had been every bit as useless as he’d expected. The golden boy was now seriously tarnished. No one took him seriously, and if anything, he’d just put himself and Rachel at risk by telling what he knew. He wouldn’t have said anything at all, except he’d been hanging out with her and with Harley, and the next thing he’d known, he was spilling his guts.

Damn it, where was Harley?

In the house. Right. And once he had his shepherd he could call Rachel. He patted his pocket and realized he must have left his cell phone in the truck.

“I need to get my dog.” He charged past her abruptly, the roaring in his ears almost as loud as the crashing waves hammering the shore. He’d become so dependent on the mutt, he couldn’t face traffic without her for fear a car would backfire and he might…

He didn’t want to consider what he might do.

Her feet sounded lightly behind him. “Are you sure you don’t want some coffee? Or you could even stay for supper.”

He turned to her, stunned. “Huh?”

“Supper. Food. To go with that coffee.” She twirled a bit of honeysuckle vine between two fingers. “Nothing fancy, but I promise there aren’t any dog hairs in it.”

“Because you feel sorry for me?”

“Because I don’t want to eat alone.” She waved him along, walking sure-footedly even as a golden retriever and cocker spaniel played chase in circles around her feet. “Come on, you can help me make the hamburger patties. Gotta warn you, though, we’ll be eating off paper plates. I hate to do dishes, since I already wash so many dog bowls every day. Like I said, nothing fancy.”

Just completely normal. And tempting. But his life wasn’t normal anymore. “Thanks. Maybe another time. I really need to track down Rachel.”

***

Rachel disconnected Liam’s phone with a frustrated jab. “He’s not home, and he’s not answering his cell. I don’t know where he is. And Catriona’s not picking up either.”

She dropped Liam’s phone back into a cup holder between them and hooked her elbow out the open window as they drove along the oceanside road. Streetlamps curved inward overhead, marking the roadway. The moonlight glinted off the murky water alongside, tiny ripples crawling across the surface. The air turned muggy as the after-storm humidity hung in the air and steamed up from the road.

Hot. But not nearly as hot as her town house currently burning to the ground. She tipped her head back on the seat, her chest tight at how close she and Disco had come to being caught in that blaze. How many other people hadn’t been nearly as lucky? She couldn’t bear the thought that anyone was even injured because of her.

Even if everyone walked away, how awful to lose everything. It was only a rental and she didn’t own much, but the mementos she’d collected over the years were irreplaceable.

A thank-you note from a family after she’d located their toddler son in the woods.

Photos of her with her mom that she’d been meaning to scan into the computer and somehow never found the time.

A shoe box of memories from when she’d dated Caden, so little to commemorate a love that had filled every corner of her heart.

Her eyes slid to Liam. Tears clogged her throat. Her hand drifted to the top of her sleeping dog’s head, resting between the two seats. Liam covered her hand with his. A sprinkling of blond hair on his arms glinted, lighter than the dark blond hair on his head, cut short to military regulations. For some reason she’d remembered it longer before, but then she’d heard rules differed for special-operations warriors. And how funny to be thinking of his hair right now, but it was as if she needed to soak up every detail, reassuring herself again and again she’d chosen right.

“It’ll be all right. We’ll find Brandon Harris,” he said, sounding totally undaunted by everything that had happened.

“How can you be so sure? Someone burned my town house to the ground. I don’t give a crap about the contents, but the people who were hurt, what could have happened… That’s eating me up inside. I should have been more persistent. I should have made someone listen sooner.”

He squeezed her fingers before holding on to the steering wheel again. “All we can do is focus on the now. While you were loading the dog up, I went ahead and called my friend in the OSI. I passed along Brandon’s name. Someone’s driving over to pick him up now. That may be why he didn’t answer.”

He’d placed his call when she wouldn’t hear? Why? What had he said that he didn’t want her to know? Liam was so charming and he’d told her how much he cared about her. She’d trusted that, even if she wasn’t a big believer in the longevity of his “love.” She’d tried to be up front with him in return, because she honest to God didn’t want to hurt this incredible man.

What if she was wrong and Liam had been feeding her a line?

God, she hoped she’d done right by Brandon. He was already so suspicious of anyone military. Her stomach roiled just thinking of how freaked-out he might be. “And you trust this guy, your friend in the Office of Special Investigations? You trust he’ll be careful with Brandon and keep his traumatized state in mind?”

She’d come to Liam because of his air force special-operations connections, but now she wondered if those same ties would work against her. Not that she thought he would betray his country for even a second. But if he gave the wrong people the benefit of the doubt, she could be in even more danger.
Brandon
could be in danger.