He rang off and headed for the rear of the house.
THE MAN WAS CROUCHED beneath the shade of a cottonwood tree. After watching him for ten minutes, Wolfe was certain he was a pro. He was quiet and observant and never remained long in one spot, always wiping his tracks clean with a juniper branch.
Even if he was good, Wolfe was a whole lot better.
The man barely had time to gasp before Wolfe’s fingers clamped over his windpipe. After a short, fierce struggle, he sagged and Wolfe jerked his wrists behind him, sliding on plastic tactical restraints.
The heavy lifting was done. Now it was time to ask some questions.
Quickly, Wolfe took stock. His unconscious captive wore desert camouflage pants, a tan camo shirt and military issue combat boots. A tan canteen rested in a shaded crack between two boulders.
Wolfe squatted down in the wash, but despite a thorough search, he found no wallet, no keys, and no credit cards. All the man carried was a compass, chewing tobacco, and a big high-carbon steel knife that looked a lot like the one Wolfe wore hidden in his own boot. A black hydration pack and a small LifePack with rations were stowed beneath the nearby sagebrush, along with a first-aid kit and some water purification tablets. Wolfe studied the hard features streaked with dark face paint, certain that he’d never seen this man before.
Mercenary? Common criminal?
A simple voyeur?
He looked back up the hill. After a quick inspection, he found a pair of expensive tactical-grade binoculars hidden between two boulders.
This was no garden-variety peeping Tom.
At his feet the man gave a little lurch as he regained consciousness. Wolfe leveled the carbon steel blade at his face.
Neither said a word, each silently assessing tactical scenarios and possible outcomes. In Wolfe’s experience, the only soldiers who blustered and threatened were the ones in movies. In real life, nothing happened for hours. Then things moved in a blur, fast and silent, with no time for posturing or ego. Death often came on a whisper.
The wind shook the branches of a small piñon pine. Green needles scattered in the restless sunlight as Wolfe covered his captive’s mouth with duct tape before things got noisy.
The man showed no hint of emotion when Wolfe moved the knife to his neck, just above the carotid artery. The narrowed eyes turned defiant as his jaw worked back and forth.
Too late Wolfe recognized the odd sawing movement of his mouth. Dropping fast with one knee on the man’s chest, he slit the duct tape and pried open the locked jaw.
White bubbles trailed over Wolfe’s fingers. His captive’s face contorted in a grimace and his body jerked twice.
He didn’t move again.
The poison capsule must have been hidden inside a false tooth, where it could be accessed and crushed easily.
Wolfe checked the man’s pulse and scanned the nearby slope in case there was backup waiting among the trees, but only shadows raced over the ridge. A dying wind shook the branches of a nearby sage bush.
After dragging the body beneath a stark granite out-cropping, Wolfe returned for the man’s equipment. When that was moved, he swept the slope clean of footprints and drag lines with the same branch the dead man had used earlier. With every trace of their presence wiped clean, Wolfe settled back in the shadows and fingered his encrypted cell phone.
He knew that Ryker was going to want every detail.
The phone rang once. “Ryker here. What have you got, Bravo?”
“First contact, sir.”
“Cruz?”
“Negative. No ID or personal information on the man and he died before interrogation. He had a poison capsule hidden in his mouth.”
Ryker snapped a low curse. “What have you got that we can use?”
“His pack, his rations and his binoculars. Nothing else.”
“Bag them and sit tight. I’ll send in a removal team, but not until nightfall. Were you hit?”
“Negative, sir.”
“Hold on, Bravo.”
As he waited, Wolfe studied the nearby ridge, then checked the courtyard where Kit was doing some kind of throw and retrieve game with the dogs.
Ryker came back on the line. “I’ve authorized pickup priority for the body tonight, Bravo. Moonrise won’t be until 0224 hours, so I’ll get a team to you between 0100 and 0200 hours. Meet them at the insertion point.”
“Copy.”
“Now get the body out of sight. There’s an old BLM service shack three hundred meters west of your present location.”
Wolfe didn’t have to wonder how Ryker knew his position. The chip imbedded in his shoulder provided a constant GPS locator reference—and that was only part of its tactical use. “Copy, sir.”
“Be sure you bag a sample of that poison. It may help us pull an ID on your dead friend.”
“Understood.”
There was a sudden burst of activity below Wolfe. He saw Kit race along the wall of the kennel. “Sir, looks like something’s wrong down at the O’Halloran ranch.”
“Get on it, soldier. Whatever happens, remember that Cruz is out there. You won’t see him, you won’t hear him, but he’ll be there. And I want that bastard alive.”
The line cut to static. Wolfe could see Kit talking on a phone, moving down the hill. He switched on a small headset, listening in on her call. There was no mistaking the urgency in her voice as she talked to her vet. Diesel appeared to be having some kind of respiratory attack and Kit was heading to the vet’s clinic in Santa Fe.
When her old Jeep fishtailed down the gravel driveway, Wolfe was out of sight behind her in a nondescript pickup truck with Arizona plates.
CHAPTER NINE
KIT PACED back and forth beside the big metal examining table where Diesel lay listlessly. Liz Merrigold, her vet, gently tested the dog’s neck and abdomen, a frown between her eyes.
“How is he, Liz? Is it a virus or a digestive problem? Don’t tell me it’s distemper, because I know I gave Diesel the medicine you—”
“Would you please shut up?” The petite veterinarian shone a penlight into Diesel’s eyes, watching his response.
“Sorry.” Kit took a deep breath and stared at the nearby wall, where a big poster announced summer internships for exceptional college students.
“Los Alamos,” she read, trying to distract herself. “Doesn’t your brother work there? Something classified, right?”
Liz didn’t answer.
“You told me that the two of you used to work together on projects in college.” Kit stared at the bright yellow poster, afraid to look at Diesel’s motionless body.
“My brother has far too big an ego to allow a mere female into his perfectly ordered lab for long. Now can I work here, please?”
Kit turned away and ran a hand through her hair as she studied a public health poster. “Do you think it’s Valley Fever?” She leaned down, scanning the chart. “I thought that was limited to Arizona and California.” She turned back quickly. “Liz, you don’t think that Diesel has—”
“Kit, let me work.”
“Right. Sorry. Very sorry.” Kit took another deep breath and shut up. If anyone could help Diesel, it was Liz. Despite their relative isolation in Santa Fe, the trim, forty-something veterinarian still published academic papers, traveled to medical conferences twice a year, and was obsessive about staying current with the advances in her field.
After what felt like hours—but was probably no more than five minutes—Liz gave Diesel a gentle scratch behind the ears and stood up. Her fingers tapped on her stethoscope. “Why don’t you stay here and keep Diesel company until I get back?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Give me a minute. I need to go check a reference on my computer.”
She was gone before Kit could argue or demand answers. Anxious and impatient, Kit sat down next to Diesel, who licked her hand weakly. “You’re going to be fine. Don’t worry, big guy.” She kept her voice firm and comforting. “Tonight we’ll take you back
home. You’ll be digging in the dirt and chasing Frisbees before midnight. I promise,” she said fiercely.
Diesel stared up at her and his tail thumped once.
“You’re going to be fine. You have to be fine. If you’re not, I—”
The door opened. Liz came in with a thick medical book under her arm. “If he’s not what?”
“Nothing.”
“It wasn’t nothing, Kit. Worrying about Diesel is normal, nothing to hide.”
“It’s not only Diesel. They’ve all been acting odd.”
The veterinarian stared at Kit, surprised. “You mean the other dogs have been experiencing respiratory problems, too?”
“No, they just act strange—that’s the only way to put it, Liz. They stare up at the mesa and make a funny little whimper, almost like they’re in pain.”
Liz put down the stethoscope she had used on Diesel. “When did this start happening?”
“Four or five days ago. It was so subtle I didn’t notice at first.”
“And they do it at the same time?”
Kit reviewed the events of the last few days and nodded. “Baby seems to be the most restless. It’s almost like she’s watching for something. She loves the rain, but I don’t think it’s that.”
Liz walked around the examining table. “Maybe a family of coyotes have moved in or the weather is about to change. Or they could be on edge, sensing the cougar you told me about.” She smiled as Diesel nuzzled her fingers. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”
“Can you tell me what’s wrong with Diesel?”
Liz put her medical book on the examining table. “I need to run more tests, take some blood work. Maybe by midday tomorrow I’ll have something definite.”
“He’s not staying here overnight,” Kit said tightly.
“You don’t trust me?” Liz stiffened. “After all these years, if you can’t trust me…”
“It’s not you, Liz. I want the dogs with me. It’s my job to take care of them. I won’t have them forever, you know.”
“And that bothers you?”
“Of course. But that’s part of the job I’m hired to do.”
Diesel roused, licking Kit’s hand.
“It would be irresponsible to pull Diesel out of here before he’s strong enough.” Liz shook her head. “For you to drive him back to the ranch would be plain stupid, and you’re not a stupid person.”
“If there are any negative developments—”
Liz snapped the medical textbook open and pointed to a bookmarked page. “Open your eyes, Kit. Diesel is very sick. He could have any one of a dozen illnesses in here. Come to think of it, you don’t look so good either.”
“I don’t know what—”
“You keep rubbing your hip and wincing whenever you bend down to pet Diesel. What’s going on?”
“I haven’t been feeling well, that’s all.”
Liz studied her face. “I’m worried about you. You’re working too hard with no help.”
“I’m insulted.” Kit kept her tone light. “You’re telling me that I’ve gone to seed. Is that your professional opinion?”
Liz slid her stethoscope around her neck. “I’m worried about you as a friend as well as a doctor, Kit. I’ve known your family since I first moved here.”
“Watch out. Diesel is going to—” Kit nudged her friend out of the way a second before the big puppy struggled to his feet. With a wrenching spasm, he spilled his last meal over the examining table. Oblivious to the mess, Kit spoke soothingly to Diesel as another round of spasms began. She didn’t pull away when her sleeve came within striking range of the sick animal.
The vet moved beside Diesel, checking his pulse. “This is the best place for him, Kit. If you’re really worried, you can sleep here tonight. I’ll put a foldout cot in here, and the other dogs can stay, too.”
Kit hesitated and then shook her head. “I’ll be back later. Then we can see how he’s doing.”
“You aren’t driving all the way back to the ranch, are you?”
“No, I’ll stay with Miki here in town. She has a sofa bed.”
“Blood tests aren’t instant, you know. I may not have answers until tomorrow.” Liz dropped her stethoscope into a drawer and rubbed her neck as if it hurt. “Go over to Miki’s, get some rest and leave Diesel to me. That’s what you’re paying me for, remember?” Her cell phone rang and she sighed. “If anything changes here, I’ll call you immediately, I promise. Now I really do have to take this.”
GOLDEN LIGHT SHIMMERED over restless water.
Kit closed her eyes, trying to relax. She was floating in Miki’s heated saltwater pool while her dogs amused themselves nearby. Liz had called to report that Diesel was finally sleeping and he looked much better. Until he woke up, Liz advised her against coming back and agitating him.
Kit watched Butch and Sundance gnaw on rubber chew toys, while Baby methodically demolished a dog bone. Closing her eyes, she ran a hand through her hair, feeling the sun’s heat on her upturned face. She had never realized just how hard it was to relax and do nothing.
Her old friend, Miki Fortune, drifted on an orange float nearby, rattling off details of her recently failed romance.
“Do I have wrinkles on my stomach?” Miki glared down at her stomach. She twisted to one side, staring at the tiny fold of fat that appeared when she moved. “Like it or not, our bodies define us. Susan Sontag says that…oh, I can’t remember. It’s too gorgeous out here to think.”
“You’re in great shape, Miki.”
“No thanks to exercise. It never works. Besides, who has energy after ten hours hunched over photographic paper and chemical baths?”
“Why don’t you get a digital camera like the rest of the civilized world?” Kit hid a smile, knowing full well that this would trigger a frenzy.
“Digital? Digital is for people with no sense of history or technique. Film may be a lot like gambling, but you see the moment the paper changes in the chemical bath, and it takes your breath away. That’s what the cavemen must have felt like when they saw lightning hit a tree and make fire.” Miki closed her eyes and sighed. “You did that on purpose—got me ranting again.”
“It was a good rant. I bet you feel better now.”
“I do. But it’s you I’m worried about.”
First Liz and now Miki. Why was everyone worrying about her? Was her life that depressing?
Miki lifted her foot and watched water trickle down her toes. “Let’s talk about something really important, like when you’re going to come down out of that cloud and let a man into your life.”
Kit squinted into the sun. “I don’t need a man in my life.” She hesitated, then took the plunge. “Besides, Wolfe is back.”
“What?” Miki shot up so fast the float nearly overturned. “Wolfe Houston, your brother’s gorgeous friend?”
That about described him. Kit cleared her throat, trying to sound casual. “He showed up last night. Someone tried to break in, too.” She frowned at the coincidence of the two events on the same night.
“You shouldn’t be out there alone.” Miki’s face tightened. “Your dogs are great but it’s still not safe. And even though you have rifles, I doubt you’d use them on a burglar.”
“Everything turned out fine.”
Except that Kit could feel Wolfe like a virus, threatening to invade her bloodstream again. “He was still at the ranch talking on the phone when I left this morning.” She made a sound of disgust. “When Diesel got sick, I forgot everything else. I’m not even sure where Wolfe went, but he can take care of himself and he knows where I keep a spare key. Meanwhile, I’m going to be fine. You are looking at a woman who is in remission from the Wolfe virus.” It was a slight lie, but Kit was more determined than ever to drive him out of her mind.
“Are you sure about that?”
Kit stretched broadly. “I am completely over the man, Miki. There’s no cause for worry.”
“How can you be over him? You’ve been obsessed ab
out Wolfe Houston for years and nothing has ever happened. To be over him, something has to happen so you can get him out of your system once and for all.”
“Something as in…?”
“Something as in sex. Take control for once. Grab the man by his excellent butt, strip off his tight jeans, push him up against the nearest wall and have no-holds-barred monkey sex with him.”
Kit swallowed, attacked by a sudden case of lust that felt terminal. The images were tormenting. “He was wearing camo pants, not jeans,” she muttered.
“Better and better. A man in uniform.” Miki’s lips curved in a speculative smile. “Very hot.”
“That’s a crazy idea,” Kit snapped.
“Why? This is your lucky day. Do something about it,” Miki urged.
It didn’t feel like Kit’s lucky day. It felt like a recipe for disaster. She wasn’t cool and confident like Miki. She was big on obsessing about things, too. “Forget about it because it’s not going to happen. He won’t be here long enough. The man is the ultimate drifter.”
“All the more reason to act now.” Miki leaned forward. “One night. Great lust. Fabulous sex. Then he’s gone and you’ve got him out of your system. Boom, insanity over.”
“I’m perfectly happy the way I am.” It was almost true. Kit ran the ranch by herself. She was considered one of the top ten dog trainers in the United States, and her personal credit rating was almost back in the stable zone. Her only real concern was her health, but having a wild night of lust wasn’t going to change that.
“What you need is great sex,” Miki repeated. “With Wolfe.”
“What I need is a month’s vacation in Tahiti.”
“Sex is better than Tahiti any day. Plus, it doesn’t take twenty hours in a stuffy plane eating nothing but salted peanuts to get there.”
“I don’t want a man cluttering up my life,” Kit said crossly. The words brought a sudden sharp image of Wolfe stripped to a towel as he stepped out of the shower. Kit had seen him that way once when she was thirteen, and she’d never been able to forget his rock-hard stomach and sculpted arms.
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