Colton K-9 Bodyguard

by Lara Lacombe

  Chunk nudged his knee, and Micah realized he’d forgotten all about his partner. “Good morning,” he called out, not wanting to sneak up on Bea.

  She jumped and turned to face him, and he saw her toenails were painted a bright orange. It was such a departure from Bea’s normally professional dress that it made him wonder what other frivolous things she might be hiding under those skirt suits she wore to work. Red lace bras? Black satin thongs? His mind quickly veered off into dangerous territory, and Micah swallowed hard as he tried to rein in his thoughts. The last thing he needed was to start fantasizing about Bea. Their relationship was always going to be impersonal, nothing more.

  Too bad. Regret lanced through him and he pushed the feeling aside. He needed to focus on keeping Bea safe, and any extraneous emotions were only going to get in the way of his duty.

  “Good morning,” she said, offering him a smile. “I hope you don’t mind, but I woke up early and decided to make breakfast.”

  Micah’s usual fare was a cup of coffee and a bagel clenched between his teeth as he loaded Chunk into the truck. He told her as much and added, “I can already see you’ve far surpassed that.”

  “It’s not that special,” she replied, angling her body back to the stove so she could continue monitoring the eggs. “But I do like to cook.”

  “Seeing as how I like to eat, I think this will work out well.”

  Bea laughed softly, and Micah smiled, pleased she’d taken his comment in the spirit he’d intended it. “I need to let Chunk out. We’ll be right back.”

  “This’ll be ready in a few minutes. Take your time.”

  Micah opened the back door for his ever-patient partner and stepped outside. The morning air was chilly, and the cold helped to clear his mind. He could already tell it was going to be difficult to walk the line between friendly and flirting when he spoke with Bea. The last time he’d seen her they’d been together, planning their future.

  Despite the fact that she’d broken up with him, his body still retained the sense memory of their closeness, and he found himself slipping into old habits without realizing it. But they were two different people now, and even though being around her was like putting on an old pair of jeans, he had to remember they no longer had a relationship. He couldn’t talk to her like an old friend, couldn’t assume she would welcome that closeness and familiarity.

  And, really, it was better for him to put up some barriers between them. His heart was already too involved—he could practically feel his interest in her blooming, like a new plant breaking free of its seed in search of the sun. He had to put the brakes on his emotions now, before he reached a point of no return.

  Chunk trotted over, his business concluded. Micah grabbed the towel he kept on one of the porch chairs and wiped the dew off Chunk’s coat. Being so low to the ground, the dog tended to get pretty wet during his morning tour of the yard, and Micah had learned it was easier to clean him off outside. Early on, he’d made the mistake of taking Chunk into the house in search of a towel, and his partner had wasted no time shaking the water droplets free, spraying the furniture and floor with moisture.

  They stepped back into the warm house and headed for the kitchen. “Me, again,” Micah said quietly as he walked to the pantry to retrieve the dog food.

  “I heard you coming,” Bea said. “But I do appreciate the heads-up.”

  He grabbed a bowl from the cupboard and began to pour the kibble. “I figured you might still be on edge from the attack last night. I don’t want to scare you.” He bent to put the bowl on the floor and straightened to find Bea watching him, a strange expression on her face. For a second, he thought he saw the glint of tears in her eyes, but then she blinked and the impression was gone.

  “Thank you,” she said softly. “That’s very thoughtful of you.”

  Micah shrugged, her gratitude making him feel a little awkward. He didn’t want her to think she needed to offer any kind of appreciation for his actions. If she started looking at him with stars in her eyes, it would be that much harder for him to keep his distance.

  “Let me get the plates,” he said, searching for a change of subject.

  He set the table while Bea finished up at the stove. He poured them both a cup of coffee while Bea brought the pan of eggs and a plate of buttered toast to the table. “I didn’t see any bacon,” she said as she sat. “But I did add some cheese to the eggs.”

  “It looks amazing,” Micah said. “I appreciate you going to all this trouble.”

  She waved away his comment. “Like I said, it’s nothing special. If you don’t mind, I’ll draw up a list for your next trip to the grocery store.”

  Visions of home-cooked meals danced in Micah’s head, and he held back a groan. His dinners usually consisted of a frozen meal or a burger from the drive-through. It would be nice to have real food for a change.

  But he couldn’t get into the habit of letting Bea cook for him. She wasn’t his wife or his girlfriend. She was his job.

  “That won’t be necessary,” he said. Her face fell, and he realized his tone had been sharper than necessary. He took a sip of coffee and tried again. “I appreciate the offer, but you don’t need to worry about cooking for me.”

  She opened her mouth to reply, but seemed to think better of it. They ate in silence for a few minutes, and Micah had to admit the eggs were wonderful.

  “So, how does this work?” Bea asked. She forked the last bite of eggs into her mouth and looked at him expectantly.

  “You mean your protection?”

  She nodded, and he took a bite of eggs, thinking as he chewed.

  “Well, it means I’m going to be your shadow for the foreseeable future. Wherever you go, I’ll be there.” He took a sip of coffee. “I don’t have to follow you into the bathroom or anything, but I will be sticking close.”

  Bea frowned and wrapped her hands around her mug. “But how will you get any work done if you’re stuck babysitting me?”

  He chuckled. “You are my work,” he said simply.

  Bea flushed, her cheeks turning pink as she digested his words. “Oh.” She shifted in her chair. “I doubt you’ll make much progress on the Groom Killer case if you’re at the shop with me all day.”

  “It will make things a bit more difficult,” he allowed. “But I can use my phone to stay in touch with the rest of the team.”

  Bea stood and began clearing the dishes. Micah pushed his chair back and headed for the sink. “You cooked, I’ll clean.”

  She nodded and leaned against the counter, mug in hand. “Why don’t we try this, instead? I’ll work in the shop for a few hours in the mornings, and then we’ll head to your office for the rest of the day.”

  Micah considered her suggestion as he scrubbed the pan. It would make his life easier if he could actually put some time in at the squad every day, but it couldn’t be good for Bea’s business if she cut hours.

  “What about your shop?” he asked. “I’d hate for you to lose any customers because you changed your schedule.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” she replied. “Things have been really slow lately. The Groom Killer has everyone on edge, and lots of couples are canceling their weddings and returning their dresses. It might even turn out for the best,” she said with a wry smile. “If the shop is closed most of the day, people can’t ask for a refund.”

  Her tone was light, but Micah knew she was truly worried. All the more reason for him to accept her offer; the more time he spent working on the case, the faster he and the team would catch the Groom Killer and Bea’s business would bounce back.

  “Okay,” he said, squeezing excess water from the sponge. “That sounds like a good plan.”

  Bea nodded and pushed off the counter. “Mind if I take the first shower? I’ll be quick.”

  “No worries,” Micah replied. “I sleep in the master suite, which has its
own bathroom. You don’t need to rush on my account.”

  “Good to know.” Bea rinsed her cup and placed it in the dishwasher. “I’ll see you in a bit, then.” She set off down the hall, and Chunk trotted after her. The dog stopped in the doorway and glanced back at Micah, then turned to follow Bea.

  “Traitor,” Micah muttered. Not that he blamed his partner. He wouldn’t mind following Bea to the shower, either.

  “Nope, nope, nope.” He shook his head and refilled his mug before heading to his own bathroom. “Don’t even think about it, Shaw. Never going to happen.”

  He stripped off his clothes and stepped under the spray, not bothering to wait for the water to warm up. A cold shower was just the distraction he needed to keep from picturing Bea, naked and wet, a few feet down the hall.

  So close, and yet so far away...

  Was Bea as affected by him as he was by her? Likely not, Micah decided, shaking his head as he toweled off. She might feel a twinge of nostalgia for the relationship they’d shared, but he doubted she still experienced any kind of attraction to him. He’d realized a long time ago that just because he considered Bea the love of his life didn’t mean she placed him in the same category.

  He sighed and forced his thoughts in a different direction. After taking Bea to pick up her clothes and toiletries, they’d go to her shop. He was looking forward to seeing the crime scene again; he’d been so concerned about Bea last night, he’d only had time for a cursory glance. The evidence techs would be done with the place now, so he could poke around without fear of contaminating the scene. He made a mental note to ask the guys on the team if they’d checked nearby businesses for security-camera footage that captured the street. Bea’s boutique didn’t have any cameras, but maybe they would get lucky with someone else’s system.

  Micah dressed quickly, his mind still turning over the case. Why had the Groom Killer spared Bea’s life? Was he or she getting sloppy, or had there simply not been enough time to take care of Bea before leaving the scene? Or was it possible the Groom Killer wasn’t Bea’s attacker, after all, and her assault was a random event not tied to Joey McBurn’s murder?

  The questions had plagued him all night, and he was determined to find the answers.

  One way or another, he was going to get to the bottom of this.

  * * *

  Bea hesitated at the door to her shop, feeling suddenly nervous about going inside.

  Don’t be silly, she chided herself. It’s broad daylight, and both Micah and Chunk are here. The place has been locked since last night. There’s no one lying in wait in there.

  Her brain knew it was the truth, but she still felt a spike of anxiety as she remembered the way the lights had suddenly gone out yesterday evening. Her heart fluttered in her chest, and her palms grew damp with sweat as she recalled that strangely familiar smell...

  She reached up to touch the bandage on her forehead with a fingertip. The numbing medication had worn off long ago, and the wound ached. But in a weird way, she was grateful for the injury. If she hadn’t bled so much, Chunk and Micah probably wouldn’t have found her. She might still be lying on the floor of her stockroom, injured or perhaps even dead.

  The thought made her shudder and she nearly turned around, ready to postpone this visit to her shop. They could come back later—no one would think less of her for taking a few days off in the wake of what had happened.

  “Hey.” Micah’s voice was quiet next to her, and he placed his hand on her shoulder. His touch was warm and comforting, and Bea felt her muscles relax. “You okay?”

  She nodded, not knowing what to say. It seemed ridiculous to be so scared of a building in the bright light of day, and yet she couldn’t control her reaction.

  Micah seemed to understand. “Want to come back another time? We don’t have to do this now.”

  “No, it’s okay. I want to.” It was the truth. It was important to do this today, to rip the bandage off and take stock of the damage, both to her store and to her sense of safety. If she didn’t face her fears now, it would be all too easy to succumb to avoidance and denial, and Bea refused to live her life that way.

  A wet tongue swiped across her hand, and she glanced down to see Chunk staring up at her with those big brown eyes. “Thanks, buddy,” she said to him, leaning down to scratch behind one of his ears. The dog’s encouragement settled her nerves, and gave her the push she needed to insert the key into the lock and open the door.

  The first thing she noticed was the smell. A metallic odor hung in the air, making her think of pencil shavings. She wrinkled her nose. Hopefully she could air the place out before the scent permeated the fabric of the wedding dresses.

  Micah noticed her reaction. “It’s the fingerprint dusting powder,” he explained. “It’s got carbon in it.”

  She glanced around, looking for the source of the smell. There was a fine dusting of black powder on the inside of the door, and she saw the register and counter were similarly adorned. “Oh, my God,” she whispered, her breath catching in her throat. If the dresses were stained with the stuff, she might as well close her business now. She couldn’t survive a hit to her inventory like that, not in her current financial straits.

  Most of the gowns hung in clear plastic bags for display, but the bags weren’t sealed so that it would be easy to remove the dresses for women to try on. Bea was going to have to painstakingly examine every dress and place it in a zipped storage bag before she could clean the store. It was a daunting task, and her heart sank as she looked around. She would need more than a few hours each morning to get this done.

  With a sigh, Bea started for the stockroom, intending to retrieve some of the storage bags so she could get started. But as she moved to the back of the store she was horrified to find the mess only got worse. Black fingerprint powder seemed to cover every flat surface, and there were mysterious dark spots on the carpeting. Some areas were taped off while some sported what looked to be chalk markings. As she moved fully into the stockroom, she caught a glimpse of a dark red stain on the floor, surrounded by a corona of bandage wrappers and other trash. That’s where they found me, she realized. The EMTs hadn’t taken the time to clean up the debris left behind when they’d treated her, adding to the general mess of the place.

  Tears stung her eyes as she took in the magnitude of the job facing her. Bea didn’t know the first thing about cleaning up a crime scene, but she couldn’t very well leave things as they were.

  She felt warmth at her side and realized Micah had come to stand next to her. He didn’t touch her, but she drew comfort from his presence nonetheless. “I know it looks bad,” he said quietly. “But once it’s all cleaned up you won’t even be able to tell there was such a mess here.”

  Bea nodded and blinked hard. “Any tips on how to clean?” She tried to sound light, but her voice was thick with emotion and she knew she hadn’t fooled Micah.

  “Yeah. Don’t try to do it yourself. I know a company that specializes in this kind of thing. They do good work.”

  His answer made her stomach knot. “I, uh... I don’t think I can afford that right now.” Crime-scene cleanup was probably an expensive job, and she barely had enough to cover the bills as it was.

  “Do you have insurance?”

  His question surprised her. “Of course.”

  Micah nodded. “In my experience, your insurance will cover the expense of the cleanup. The company will bill them, and you probably won’t ever hear about it again. Want me to call them?”

  “Yes, please.” A wave of relief washed over her, carrying away the feeling of helplessness that had weighed her down since seeing the condition of the store. Maybe it wouldn’t take long to put things to right again, after all.

  Micah retrieved his phone and moved a few steps away to make the call. Bea glanced around, looking for Chunk. The dog was usually by his master’s side, but at the moment he
was nowhere to be found.

  “Chunk?” she called. Was he still in the store? Surely he wouldn’t push the door open and escape onto the street? The thought quickened her step and she moved out of the stockroom in search of the dog.

  She called his name again and was rewarded with a yip. Following the sound, she found Chunk sitting in the open doorway of the fitting room. “There you are,” she said. “I was wondering...” The words died in her throat as she made the mistake of looking inside the small room.

  The once elegant fitting room had been transformed into a scene from a horror movie. Blood saturated the upholstery of the padded chair in the corner, and there was a matching stain on the carpet just in front of the chair. The entire room looked like it had been dusted with soot, and there were various markings on the walls, the small table and the floor.

  Chunk nosed her hand, clearly proud of himself. Bea absently patted his head, unable to tear her gaze away from the dark, rust-colored stain on the formerly cream fabric of the chair. She’d never seen so much blood before. Had the killer brought Joey here after shooting him? Or had Joey run into the store, desperately searching for a place to hide from his murderer?

  Terror gripped her as she imagined the man cowering in the corner, straining to hear the sound of footsteps, praying the killer would pass him by. Bea had always thought of the fitting room as a happy, hopeful place, where a woman first donned the wedding dress of her dreams. Now it reeked of fear and desperation, and she knew she’d never look at this room the same way again.

  “There you are.”

  Micah’s voice made her jump, and she let out a small squeal. “Whoa,” he said, reaching out to steady her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  Bea shook her head. “It’s okay. I came to look for Chunk, and found him here...” She trailed off, glancing back at the carnage with a frown.

  Micah turned her away from the room. “I’m sorry about that. I should have warned you he’d head for the scene.”

  “Because of the blood?”