Armed 'N' Ready (Federal K-9)

by Tee O'Fallon

  After what he’d done with her bank account… Serves the bastard right.

  “Earth to Andi.” Her friend eyed her with concern. “What’s going on?”

  She lowered her voice so Kara and Zoe wouldn’t hear. Ten minutes later, she’d related everything about the search warrant.

  “Holy crap.” Tess’s green eyes went wide as she set down her cup.

  Andi put her finger to her lips, glancing at the two waitresses to see if they’d heard anything. Luckily, they’d moved on to the deck to set the exterior tables. “Trust me, there’s nothing holy about it. If it’s true, then these are bad people Joe’s gotten involved with. You have to promise me that you’ll keep this quiet.”

  “Cross my heart.” She dragged her finger down her chest, then from side to side in the shape of a cross. “And the police actually broke into the house while you were still in bed?”

  “Not exactly.” She took a sip of cappuccino, and her face flamed, although she couldn’t be certain if it was from the hot coffee or from Sgt. Houston catching her clad only in her oldest, saggiest bathing suit. “I was washing Stray in the shower.”

  “Did you hear them come in?” Tess leaned forward on the stool. “I mean, did they at least knock?”

  “He said they knocked. Unfortunately, I didn’t hear it, so they had to break in.”

  “He said they knocked? He who?” After saying “who,” Tess’s lips remained puckered as if she were whistling.

  “Sgt. Nicholas Houston of the Massachusetts State Police, that’s who.” Again, her cheeks heated. “And his K-9 sidekick.”

  Tess straightened on the stool. “Are you telling me a state trooper and his dog found you naked in the shower?” She struggled to keep from grinning.

  “Of course not.” She rolled her eyes. “I was wearing a bathing suit. I don’t normally wash dogs in the buff. The important thing is that he was pointing a gun at me, and I thought his dog—which turned out to be a very nice dog—was going to tear me to shreds.”

  “Was it that old blue string bikini? That thing doesn’t cover much.” Tess laughed. “Was he hot?”

  Andi let out an exasperated breath. “No.” Yes. In a rugged, tough-guy way, though admitting it—even to herself—really chapped her ass. “Anyway, since they took my phone, I have no way of contacting Joe. I’ll keep the DPC’s business cell phone with me at all times, so if he calls on the landline, come get me right away. Can you do that, please?”

  Tess hunched her shoulders, holding up both hands in a defensive posture. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. And I’m sorry for laughing.” Worry lines creased her brow. “In all seriousness, you need to be careful of police, and especially federal agents.”

  Andi paused with the cup midway to her mouth. Where did that come from? While she didn’t want to pry, it sounded disturbingly like Tess had experience in these matters, and that couldn’t be good.

  “I’ll let you know if Joe calls. I promise.” Tess squeezed Andi’s shoulder, then her face suddenly brightened. “Your plumber called and said the work on your house is done and you can move back in.”

  “Thank God.” That meant she could move out of Joe’s after work.

  Since police and federal agents had been crawling through the house and her personal things, she hadn’t relished the idea of sleeping there again. Maybe because Sgt. Houston touched everything in my suitcase. Including the lacy bra and panties she currently wore.

  The memory of her panties clinging irreverently to his gun, and his long fingers tossing them onto the bed while a distinct blush crept up his neck and chiseled jaw, nearly had her laughing.

  Forget it. Forget him.

  She and Tess finished their cappuccinos, then got down to reviewing the weekly specials Marty had left on the bar. But her mind still wasn’t totally focused on business. The tally of evidence against Joe had become too high to ignore. Her heart might be in denial, but her gut knew the truth.

  Joe really is laundering money for a gunrunner.

  At four thirty that afternoon, Andi took a break before the dinner rush and headed back to Joe’s place to collect her things. As she drove up the driveway, she was reminded of how, not six hours ago, it had been jammed with police vehicles.

  She got out of the truck and was headed for the front door when something on the front step caught her eye. A cigarette butt. She hadn’t noticed it earlier. She wrinkled her nose. Using the tip of her sandal, she kicked it into the adjacent flower bed, being careful not touch it with her bare toes. “Disgusting habit.” Odd, but she hadn’t smelled smoke while everyone had been there. Then again, she’d been so freaked out she could easily have missed it.

  She pulled Joe’s house key from her shorts pocket and was about to insert it into the lock when she froze. The paint on the doorjamb next to the lock was scratched and scuffed. She distinctly remembered putting the key into the lock that morning to turn the deadbolt, and those marks hadn’t been there.

  So who did this? And when?

  The back of her neck prickled. She whipped around, expecting to get hit over the head, but no one was there. Her heart rate kicked up, and she tiptoed off the front porch, peeking around the corner to look into the backyard.

  Nothing. Empty. Aside from grass.

  Her pulse slowed, and she began making her way back to the front door, checking over her shoulder several times along the way. She took a deep breath. The plan was to take a quick look, and if anything was out of place, she’d get the hell out of there.

  Her hand trembled as she inserted the key into the lock and turned it. Slowly, she pushed open the door and peeked inside. For a moment she stood there, unable to move as she took it all in.

  Oh my God.

  She yanked the door shut with enough force that she stumbled backward, nearly falling off the front step. With her heart hammering, she bolted to her truck.

  Chapter Four

  Nick wiped the sweat from his brow then reached into the refrigerator and pulled out a beer and one of the dinosaur-size, double-cut rib eyes he’d bought yesterday.

  The first things he normally did when he got home were to let Saxon have some dog time in his fenced-in backyard, then peel off his uniform before uncapping a beer. Today he was so hot, tired, and thirsty that the beer took priority. He twisted off the cap and took a long slug. In the corner of the kitchen, Saxon slurped noisily at the fresh water Nick had set out for him.

  After leaving Myer’s house, he and Cox had gone back to the FBI office and tried calling Myer on Andi’s cell phone again, but he never answered. Then Nick and Saxon hit the streets, talking to every informant he could find, trying to dig up information on where Myer was hiding out, or whether the guy was already dead. But he’d come up empty. Either everyone was lying their asses off, or nobody knew where he was.

  Nick was certain the guy would reach out to Andi. The only question was when. And he worried that if he returned the phone to her, she couldn’t be trusted to notify them when Myer called—unless he was around when it happened. If AUSA Bennett approved of Nick’s plan, he’d start first thing in the morning.

  Knowing his grill’s ignition switch was on the fritz, he dug into a kitchen drawer and found a butane lighter on top of a strip of photos he’d tossed in there a few years ago. He stared at the photos without picking them up. Tanya had convinced him to snuggle up in one of those curtained photo booths in the middle of a shopping mall.

  Better times. Before three miscarriages killed Tanya’s soul.

  No matter how much he’d tried to help her, nothing did. Each miscarriage chipped away at her self-worth until there was nothing left of the woman he’d fallen in love with.

  By the time Tanya had died, their marriage was long over, and both of them knew it. It had taken years for him to admit that without feeling any guilt or pain, but the healing process had taken its toll. Since then, he’d frozen himself off from attachments that could make him experience any real feelings. It was easier that way. Easier than going thr
ough the pain again of losing someone he loved.

  Saxon’s presence kept him grounded. His dog’s claws clicked on the tile as he came to stand in front of Nick, looking up at him with an intensity that told him his dog knew he was upset. That was the thing about dogs—they picked up on human behavior and emotion, and K-9s were probably even more attuned to their partners. Emotions traveled up and down the leash, so when Nick was bothered, so was his dog and vice versa.

  He set the beer on the counter and patted his chest. “Up.” Slowly, Saxon rose on his hind legs and planted his front paws on Nick’s chest, allowing him to bear-hug the dog and bury his face in Saxon’s soft ruff. “Thanks, buddy,” he said after a minute, looking down into his dog’s sympathetic golden eyes. “I needed that. Now let’s get outside and grill us a big-ass steak.”

  Snorting in agreement, Saxon dropped his front paws and followed Nick out the back door onto the deck. He watched the dog bound down the stairs and leap from the third step onto the yard before charging across the freshly cut grass. The yard was entirely enclosed by four-foot high picket fencing, although Saxon could easily jump the fence anytime he chose.

  As he lit the grill, Andi Hardt’s lightly tanned, peaches ’n’ cream complexion came to mind. Between his time in the military, then ten years with the state police, three of which had been with SWAT, he’d had a lot of things thrown at him…sticks, rocks, bullets, even grenades…but never a bar of soap or a bottle of shampoo.

  Taking the beer with him, he sat in one of his Adirondack chairs, positioning himself to watch Saxon walk up one side of the teeter-totter he’d bought to hone the dog’s balance. Like people, some K-9s’ sense of balance was better than others, and Nick had noticed his dog occasionally hesitated on nonstationary surfaces. The teeter-totter was the perfect training mechanism.

  Saxon tensed as the back end of the teeter-totter he’d walked up lifted until both ends of the narrow board were in the air. For a moment his dog froze, waiting for the board to level off before walking slowly down the other side.

  Nick grinned as Saxon pirouetted on the grass. He was improving every day, but he wanted his dog in peak condition and ready for anything.

  He leaned back to watch Saxon take off like a gazelle and race along the fence line.

  The phone in his shirt pocket vibrated. He pulled it out and looked at the display. Cox.

  “Sorry to intrude on your evening,” Cox said when Nick answered. “Thought you’d want to know ASAP. Bennett approved your plan. You’ve been green-lighted to do whatever it takes to bring Myer in. Eric will be your backup.”

  Nick did a quick fist pump. “I’ll hit her up tomorrow morning.”

  “You think she’ll really go for it?” Cox asked.

  “She will if she wants to clear her name and get her money back.”

  “Good points.” Cox chuckled. “We’ve been monitoring her cell phone continuously. Myer called once, and we had a female agent answer. He must have recognized that it wasn’t Andi, because he hung up. We tried calling him back, but it went right to voicemail.”

  “No surprise. He wants to talk only to her.” Making the success of his op all the more critical.

  Saxon trotted up the stairs and sat directly in front of Nick. The dog’s ears twitched, and he cocked his head. Anytime Nick got on his cell phone there was the likelihood they’d be doing his dog’s favorite thing: working.

  He pointed to the floor of the deck, and Saxon lay down, resting his massive head between his paws, but his eyes remained focused on Nick.

  Through the phone, he heard Cox yawning. “I ordered a more complete background check on Andi Hardt and an updated set of financials, but it could be a week or more before we get everything back, and the AUSA doesn’t want to wait. If Myer winds up dead before we get to him, our case goes out the window.”

  The phone clicked. “Stand by,” Cox said, telling Nick the agent had gotten another call. “That was Andi Hardt,” Cox said when he came back on a minute later. “Someone broke into Myer’s house and trashed it.”

  Nick suppressed a groan. His evening of relaxation had just gone to shit.

  Chapter Five

  Andi sat in her truck in front of the house, rocking back and forth as she waited impatiently for Agent Cox to arrive. Her stomach twisted into knots, and she rocked faster, biting her lower lip. Cox didn’t have to tell her to wait outside, because she had less than zero intention of going in there alone. Based upon what little she’d seen, whoever had done this was angry. Really angry.

  Sofa and chair cushions slashed open and thrown to the floor, white springy stuffing everywhere. Furniture broken as if someone had taken an ax to things. She could only imagine the damage inflicted on the rest of the house.

  Groaning, she replayed her conversation with Special Agent Cox. She’d railed at the poor man, mistakenly assuming he and his band of merry agents and state troopers had returned to search the house again after she’d left for the DPC. “What a jackass I am.”

  There’d been no need for them to come back and trash the place. Logic aside, there was something so violent about the way the house had been ransacked, as if whoever had done this wanted to send a message. A thoroughly mean message.

  She let out an unsteady breath, thankful she hadn’t been there when they’d broken in. Who knew what they would have done to her?

  Engines purred as two vehicles came down the road then slowed before pulling into the driveway. The first was a black Charger, and the second was a state police Explorer. Nick Houston? Perhaps, although just because it was a state police vehicle didn’t mean it was him behind the wheel. The state police must have hundreds of officers. But when the Explorer came to a stop, she noticed the K-9 emblem on the side door panel, and her heart beat a little faster. After the embarrassing shower debacle, she’d prefer to never lay eyes on him again.

  She left her truck parked on the street and headed up the driveway. Cox got out of the Charger. A moment later, Nick Houston rounded the hood of the Explorer, pausing to look at the house across the street, then to the properties on either side of Joe’s.

  Nervous energy invaded her body. Something about seeing Nick again made her feel… What? She struggled to find the correct word to describe her prickly, charged response to the man’s presence. Annoyed? No, that didn’t explain her nervousness. Edgy? Yes, definitely that, but why? Because he has a badge and a gun? No. Cox was a gun-toting, badge-carrying federal agent, but he didn’t elicit any of those feelings in her, not even close. Make that not at all.

  Unlike Cox’s, Nick’s sharp gaze didn’t immediately settle on her the second he got out of his vehicle. As she joined them in front of the house, he continued surveying his surroundings, searching for threats with subtle yet calculated glances. The man had a soldier-like air of invincibility about him, as if no one could get past his deadly defenses.

  “Ms. Hardt,” he said, coming to stand beside her, and when he canted his head, she noted the color of his hair reminded her of sandy New England beaches and caramel. Rich sandy-brown.

  “Call me Andi.” She cleared her throat, focusing on his eyes, which were softer than gunmetal gray, her original assessment. More like sterling silver with a touch of blue. Blue steel. “After all, since I’m still a suspect there may be silver bracelets in my future, and I like to be on a first-name basis with any man who gives me jewelry.”

  His lips twitched. Full, sensual lips. And was that a glimmer of humor twinkling in his eyes?

  Couldn’t be. She must have imagined it.

  “Andi, then,” he said unexpectedly. She’d have bet twenty cappuccinos that he wouldn’t have embraced such informality. Not a take-no-prisoners kind of cop like him.

  A warm breeze whispered through the trees, bringing with it his clean, citrusy aftershave mixed with the smell of freshly oiled leather. An entire day in this heat and humidity and the man still smelled great and looked all clean and pressed. The only evidence of the long day he’d had was the faint gr
owth of beard on his jaw.

  No fair. With her shorts and shirt sticking to her, she must look worse than something the cat dragged in.

  “Agent Cox,” she said, quickly holding out her hand to Mr. FBI, which he shook. “I need to apologize for my rude behavior over the phone. I realize now that you had nothing to do with this.”

  “No need for apologies.” He held up his other hand, stopping her from continuing with more contrite explanations. “You’ve had a rough day.”

  Ya think? “I definitely have. When this is all over and you unfreeze my account and stop believing that I’m part of a criminal organization, I’d like to extend an invitation to both of you to stop by the DPC for lunch. On me, of course.”

  Cox smiled, then shot Nick a conspiratorial look. She narrowed her eyes. What’s up with that? “Thank you for the invitation,” the agent said, his smile gone now. “Someday, perhaps. Now let’s go inside and have a look.”

  She led the way to the front door and pointed out the scratch marks near the lock. When they entered the house, it was worse than the brief glimpse she’d gotten earlier.

  There wasn’t one piece of furniture in the living room that remained unscathed. Splintered wood lay everywhere. Cushion filling hung from the hallway chandelier. As they walked into the dining room, she sucked in a breath. Joe’s beautiful wood dining table had deep cut marks over most of the surface.

  “I’ll call it in.” Nick clicked the microphone on his shoulder and reported the break-in to the Ludlow police department.

  “You won’t be the investigating officers?” She looked from Nick to Cox. Not that she totally trusted them, but she had to admit that, under the circumstances, they’d been fair and courteous in their dealings with her.

  “At this point, we can’t be sure this has anything to do with our investigation,” Nick said. “Even if it does, burglary isn’t a federal crime. Local police will retain jurisdiction on this.”