Playing Dirty

by Tiffany Snow

“There you are,” he said with a smile. “Easiest job ever.”

  He raised a gun, pointing it at me, and I stopped breathing.

  McClane leapt at him, teeth snapping and growling. His jaws fastened around the man’s wrist as the gun went off. The bullet went wide and I watched in horror as McClane attacked the man with vicious intent. Panic and fear flooded me and I remembered what Parker had said.

  It only takes one bullet to stop a dog.

  The dog was going insane and the guy was fighting him tooth and nail. He cried out in pain and I saw the red stain of blood.

  The only way out was past them and I tried to squeeze past the melee of dog and man fighting in the hallway, but a hand wrapped around my ankle and jerked. I fell hard to the floor, my knees and elbows slamming onto the hardwood. The breath rushed out of me in a huff. We hit the wall and something fell, glass splintering into a thousand pieces.

  In desperation, I kicked back and must have hit him because I heard a grunt. McClane was still going berserk and I crawled forward on my hands and knees to scramble to my feet.

  Rushing to the front door, I yanked it open, grabbing the truck keys from the table. “McClane! Come!” I had no idea if he’d obey me, but sure enough, he did and we bolted outside.

  I ran for the truck. McClane needed no command to jump inside, and I followed. Seconds later, the engine roared to life and I slammed it into reverse. Thank God there was no one behind me because I didn’t even look before backing up. I glanced in the rearview mirror as we sped down the street and saw the man standing in the doorway, watching us.

  “Oh God, oh God, oh God,” I said aloud. My hands were shaking and I just wanted to pull over and have a nervous breakdown, but I was too scared to stop.

  I reached out, needing some kind of reassurance, and buried my fingers in McClane’s fur. He whined a little and I glanced over.

  “Oh no!” There was blood on him.

  I skidded the truck to a halt on the side of the road and shoved it in park. “McClane, c’mere.” I ran my hands over him and that’s when I saw it. He’d been cut somehow, from the glass maybe, and it was deep, his fur matted with blood. I had to get him to the vet. But where?

  Pulling out my phone, I Googled for vets nearby, then shoved the truck back into gear. Following the map on my phone with one hand, I drove to the nearest veterinary clinic. McClane put his head down on the seat.

  “It’s okay, McClane,” I said. “You’re going to be okay.” I didn’t know if I was reassuring him or myself, probably more of the latter since he obviously couldn’t understand me.

  When we pulled into the clinic, McClane didn’t get off the seat, his dark eyes just staring soulfully at me.

  Leaving the door open, I ran inside. “Please help me!”

  Two workers came out right away, and between the three of us we got McClane inside. They took him into the back and I stood staring at the swinging doors, feeling like they’d just taken a family member away from me. I started bawling.

  A worker put her arm around me. “He’ll be okay,” she said, rubbing my shoulder. “Our doctors are the best.”

  “But I don’t even like dogs!” I sobbed. They were slobbery and smelled and McClane jumped on me with his dirty paws … and today he’d saved my life. I cried harder.

  She guided me to a chair in the waiting room and I sat down heavily. A moment later, she thrust a box of tissues into my hands.

  “I’ll let you know how he is,” she said sympathetically. “As soon as I hear anything.”

  I nodded, wiping my face and snotty nose. I’d stopped crying and a hiccup escaped. If something happened to McClane, Ryker would never forgive me, I was sure.

  Unable to just sit there, I began to pace. The lady came back with some forms for me to fill out and I jotted my name, address, and all other relevant information. I figured I’d better use my name instead of Ryker’s, not the least of which was because I didn’t know his actual address.

  A half hour went by before someone came out to talk to me.

  “Is he going to be okay?” I asked.

  The doctor smiled reassuringly. “He’s going to be fine. He needed surgery, though, and stitches. We should keep him a day or so for observation.”

  Relief flooded me. Thank God. McClane would be okay. I sat down again and the doctor gave me a little pat before disappearing back behind the swinging doors.

  I had blood and dog hair on my hands so I searched for the bathroom, washing up and taking a dampened paper towel to my tear-streaked face.

  As I was coming back out, I heard someone talking to the lady behind the front desk, and I paused around the corner to listen.

  “… had an injured dog,” he was saying. “A German Shepherd. Have you seen her? She’s my sister and she called me, very upset. I came as quickly as I could.”

  Me. He had to be talking about me. Except I’d called no one and I didn’t have a brother.

  I peeked around the corner and had to stifle a gasp. It was the same guy. He’d cleaned up from his tussle with McClane and looked exactly like what he was purporting to be: a concerned brother come to collect his distraught sister.

  “Yes, she’s here,” the woman said. “The dog had to have surgery—”

  I didn’t wait to hear what else she was going to tell him. Backing up, I went down the hallway, searching for an exit. A door blocked my path, but it was unlocked and I hurried through it, spotting an EXIT sign at the rear of the building.

  I was almost there when I heard a “Hey!” from behind me. Instinct made me turn and look in time to see the guy pointing his gun at me. I dove through the door just as the shot sounded. It ricocheted off the slamming door and I hit the ground running.

  Running for your life isn’t the same thing as running for anything ever before. No matter what race I’d run as a child or teen, or how fast I’d wanted to clock a mile on the track, none of it compared to knowing that if I didn’t go faster, I’d be dead.

  The door to the truck was still hanging open and I could only be grateful for the few precious seconds that saved me as I jumped in and started the engine. As before, the old truck roared to life immediately and I gunned it, seeing the guy once again in my rearview mirror. This time, he fired at the truck. I screamed, ducking down, but then was quickly out of range.

  I drove aimlessly for a few minutes, just trying to get myself under control. The tears had dried up, thank God. It was becoming dangerously clear that if I didn’t keep my wits about me, I’d end up dead.

  Parker. I needed to call him.

  Pulling out my cell, I hit his speed dial. To my dismay, the call wasn’t picked up but went to voice mail.

  “Parker, it’s me,” I said. My voice was shaky and I took a breath to try and steady it. “Someone came to the house. I don’t know how, but he found me. McClane got hurt and I took him to the vet. I think the guy is following me somehow …” And it hit me. Shit. My phone. Parker had even warned me about it. Maybe that’s why Parker hadn’t answered. His phone was off, too.

  “I’m going to get rid of my phone,” I said. “I’ll call you again from another.”

  Ending the call, I tossed the phone out the window, then kept on driving.

  The only thing I could think of to do was head to my parents’ house, but before I went there, I had to tell Ryker what was going on.

  Though it was early afternoon, I headed for the bar where Malone had told me I could find him. It was in an older section of downtown where the buildings were closer together and the sunlight didn’t quite reach all the dark nooks and crannies of the street.

  I was lucky enough that someone pulled out of a parking spot on the street just as I pulled up, so while it took me three tries, I was able to parallel park the truck. Hopping out, I glanced around before hesitantly going inside.

  It was an old Irish bar, with Guinness signs prominently displayed on the walls and windows. The bar, floors, and furniture were made from heavy, dark wood that would have cost a fortun
e nowadays to use but had obviously been there since the place was built.

  A couple of pool tables were in the back, and two men were playing a game on one. They didn’t glance up from their game, but the man sitting at the bar did. Old and wizened, he looked as though he might’ve been grown on the barstool upon which he sat, planted when the place had opened and not moving from that spot ever since. He was nursing a beer. Considering the hour, I wasn’t surprised that not many people were in the place.

  “Jameson, straight up,” I ordered from the bartender. He raised an eyebrow, but gave me what I wanted. I dug a crumpled ten from my jeans’ pocket and handed it over, then tossed back the shot in one swallow.

  I asked for a water, which I took to a far table in the corner, cloaked in shadows. I could keep my back to the wall and have a good view of the room as well as the door. A hallway led to the back and I saw a dimly lit EXIT sign, so if I had to leave quickly, I could.

  I was exhausted. The adrenaline was gone, as was the terror that had propelled me to stay one step ahead of whoever this guy was following me, and I wished I could lie down and sleep for a week.

  A woman walked in from the back—I wasn’t sure where she’d come from as the back door hadn’t opened—and went to the bar. She was really pretty, with deep red hair and eyes so green I could see their color even from where I sat. She was also tiny, not only in stature, but she had little bones and was that kind of petite I’d always envied. My legs were too long and my bones too big to ever be that little, even if I lost twenty pounds. Not that that was happening anytime soon. I was just saying.

  I watched her out of interest and boredom as she joked with the bartender. He set a shot of whiskey on the rocks in front of her, but she didn’t toss it back like I had. I wasn’t paying much attention to their conversation until I heard something that made my ears perk up.

  “… McCrady’s back,” the bartender was saying.

  The woman went absolutely still. “Don’t fuck with me, Barney.” But the bartender just shook his head.

  “I know better’n that, Branna,” he said. “You think I wanna end up on your shit list? I swear to God. He’s back.”

  “He’s supposed to be dead,” she said.

  The bartender shrugged. “I know. Turns out he was running from the feds. He’s back in town now, wanted a job back with Leo.”

  “What’d Leo say?”

  He shrugged. “Seems to have welcomed him back with open arms. Thought I’d better give you a heads-up, though.”

  My attention was completely captivated now and I watched avidly to see what Branna would say. Turned out, she didn’t have to say anything because just then, Ryker walked in.

  The breath caught in my chest. He looked different, but I couldn’t really pinpoint why. He still wore the same type of clothes—jeans, leather jacket, boots, and aviators, though I noticed the dog tags were missing. But his face was cold and absolutely devoid of emotion.

  He came in the front door, it swinging shut behind him, and he paused, taking in the scene. Ryker didn’t seem to see me in the corner at all. His gaze landed unerringly on the woman called Branna.

  After a pregnant pause, he walked toward her, stopping when he was right in front of her.

  “Branna,” he said by way of greeting.

  She said nothing … just slammed him with a right hook that made me flinch as bone met bone.

  Ryker didn’t seem surprised. He took the hit well, rubbing his jaw slightly, but he didn’t back down. Turning, he faced her again.

  “You’ve got some set of balls, McCrady,” she gritted out, “showing up here again after all this time.”

  “Wouldn’t want to be predictable,” he said.

  There was a moment of breathless tension, then she threw herself in his arms and they were kissing like two lovers who’d been parted and were suddenly reunited.

  My stomach felt like someone had shot a fist into it. I couldn’t breathe, watching as Branna and Ryker kissed like there was no tomorrow.

  Oh God. I didn’t know what to think as I watched from my dark corner. What did this mean? Who was this woman? I knew he was undercover, but this seemed … more than that. You couldn’t make up the kind of passion that sizzled between them. At least, I couldn’t have.

  They finally came up for air, but were still wrapped in each other’s arms. The bartender had moved on, to give them some privacy I guessed. I strained to hear their conversation, but couldn’t. But did it really matter? Their faces were close together and his hands were on her ass. I felt as though I’d swallowed a lead ball.

  Shrinking farther back into the shadows, I waited as Branna walked in the back and Ryker asked the bartender for something. As he waited, he turned and leaned with his back to the bar. As though I’d called his name, his eyes fell on me.

  There was a beat and something passed across his face, perhaps a hint of surprise, then it was gone and he was striding toward me.

  “What’s going on?” he asked when he reached my table. “How the hell did you find me?”

  “Sorry to upset your plans,” I replied, my voice tight with hurt I was channeling into anger. “Malone told me where you’d be.”

  “Do you have any idea how dangerous it is for you to be here?” he growled, showing not a flicker of embarrassment that I’d caught him kissing another woman.

  “So I figured. Thought I’d tell you that … my dog got hurt,” I said, opting to not name McClane. “He was helping me out in a pretty big way”—hint hint—“and he’s going to be okay, but he’ll be at the vet for a few days, so I’m leaving town.”

  “Where are you going?” he asked.

  “I’m going home,” I said, and now he should be hard-pressed not to know I was pissed. “It looks like you have someone to keep you occupied anyway.” I tossed him the truck keys. “You might need these.”

  In a flash, he had me by the arm and was propelling me into the corner until my back hit the wall. He towered over me, in my space until we were almost touching. I felt his hand at my hip, pushing the keys back into my jeans’ pocket.

  “Don’t do this,” he hissed. “I told you why I’m here.”

  “Yeah, you did,” I said. “So who the hell is Branna and why were you kissing her?”

  Ryker hesitated. “She’s … someone I used to know,” he said. “A friend.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “That’s one hell of a friend.”

  His grip on my arm tightened. “I can’t do this now,” he said. “I’m asking you to trust me. Can you do that?”

  I ignored his question and asked one of my own. “Are you going to sleep with her?”

  He didn’t answer, his lips pressing into a thin line. I gave a short, humorless laugh.

  “Wow. Okay, whatever. I have my own problems right now, so you … do whatever you’ve gotta do.”

  “Branna does some contract work for Leo,” he said. “She’s smart and dangerous. If anyone were to see through my cover, she would. It’s vital that she trusts me.”

  “That’s an excuse I haven’t heard before.”

  Ryker ignored my snarky comment. “She and I were close,” he said. “She was an excellent source and loyal to only herself, not Leo. When I went away, that was the end of it.”

  “Yeah, but you’re back now,” I replied. “And it looks like she wants to take up where you left off.”

  “McCrady.”

  We both turned to see the woman we’d been discussing standing a few feet away. Her eyes narrowed when she saw me.

  “Leo’s here,” she said to McCrady, her eyes still on me. “He’s asking for you.”

  “Leo’s here?” Ryker asked. “It’s the middle of the day. Why is he here?”

  Branna just shrugged and nodded at me. “Who the hell is this?”

  “Just an ex,” Ryker said. “I was just showing her out.” He tugged on my arm, but a voice stopped him.

  “What do we have here?”

  Dread filled my gut at the familiar voic
e, and sure enough, Leo appeared behind Ryker.

  “Looks like we have quite the party going on, thanks to you, McCrady,” he said. “Bring the girl back, too.”

  I could tell Ryker was pissed, and I didn’t know if it was directed toward me, or Leo, or the whole situation. Either way, he didn’t have a choice and I followed Leo, some guy who was standing with him, and Ryker down the hallway. Branna brought up the rear.

  A stairway was nearly invisible at the far end and we went down and into another short hallway. A door was standing partially open and we went inside the brightly lit room.

  It was an office, a nice one, done in plush carpeting and with comfortable furniture, including a sofa that sat against one wall and a heavy wooden desk with two armchairs in front of it.

  Leo sat in the chair behind the desk while the guy who was with him stood to the side, facing us.

  “So I thought you and this one broke up,” Leo said. “That’s what you told me last night.”

  Ryker shrugged. “I can’t help it if she’s having trouble accepting that it’s over. She followed me here. I was just trying to get through to her when you walked in.”

  Okay, I didn’t really like the picture he was painting of me being some lovestruck, needy female who couldn’t let him go, but I didn’t have a choice. So I kept silent.

  “Perhaps I can help with that,” Leo said. “We can even kill two birds, so to speak.”

  “How’s that?” Ryker asked.

  “There’s the matter of your sudden reappearance,” Leo said, “and your loyalty. Some members of my … organization … have expressed doubt that you are who you say you are.”

  I thought one of those “members” was probably the man standing next to him, judging by the look he was giving Ryker. My stomach twisted into knots. They didn’t believe him, and he had no backup. If Leo decided to kill him right then, there was nothing anyone could do about it.

  “So I’m proposing a test,” Leo said, sitting back in his chair. “Something that will prove to me, and my people, that you’re on the up and up.”

  “What kind of test?”

  Leo reached inside his middle desk drawer and pulled out a handgun. He held it out to Ryker, butt first.