Locked-Down Heart (Combat Hearts Book 3)

by Tarina Deaton

  “Your name’s not on the birth certificates. You gonna go to court and petition for a DNA test to prove you’re the sperm donor?” Maybe she shouldn’t taunt him, but she had an overwhelming urge to shoot him and she needed him to take a swing at her first. Wanted fugitive or not, it probably wouldn’t be viewed favorably if she shot him just because he was yelling.

  His fists clenched and she released her arms, ready to grab her gun. Something crashed in the back. Eddie glanced at the door over her shoulder, then pushed back from the counter.

  “It’s a nice place you’ve got here, Denise. Done real good for yourself. That old barn’s probably got some really dry wood. Be a shame if something happened to it. No telling what burnt dog smells like.” He turned on his heel and pushed through the door.

  Fucker. She should have shot him. She pulled her phone out of her pocket.

  Emily came in the door behind her. “I called the police when I heard the bang,” she said. “I’m sorry I stayed back there.”

  Denise shot her what she hoped was a reassuring look. “It’s alright, Emily.”

  “Who are you calling?”

  She put the phone to her ear. “FBI.”

  Chapter 12

  The police were still talking to Emily when Chris arrived with another man. He broke off and joined the two police officers and Emily while Chris approached her.

  It was wrong and went against every fiber of her being, but she wanted him to hug her. Take her in his arms, pull her into a tight hug, and tell her everything would be alright. She was not that girl who needed to be coddled and have her problems solved. The thought alone triggered her gag reflex, so what the hell was wrong with her?

  He stopped close, his fingers reaching for her face before he seemed to think better of it and he shoved his hands in his pockets. “You okay?”

  “Asshole threatened my dogs. No, I’m not okay. I’m pissed the fuck off.” She used her residual anger to beat down the softer emotions trying to float to the surface.

  A slow smile formed on his lips and a different kind of heat diffused through her body. She hadn’t seen him since the morning after the funeral. He’d kissed his way up her back and told her to call him if she needed him for anything. She hadn’t until today. Maybe she should have found a reason.

  “Well, if nothing else comes this, I think one of the LEOs has a date for this weekend.” The guy who’d arrived with Chris broke the spell she’d been falling under.

  Spell. Jeez. This was Bree’s fault. Her and her damn fairytales.

  “Phil Carter. I’m this loser’s better half.” He cocked his head at Chris and held out his hand. His grip was firm, but not too tight when she shook his hand.

  Chris released a long-suffering sigh. “Phil’s my partner.”

  With his receding hairline and slight paunch, indicating muscle gone soft rather than sloth, Phil looked more like a high school football coach than an FBI agent. But who was she to judge?

  “Like I said, better half. Before Officer Lothario over there started turning on the charm, I was able to find out you have surveillance cameras?”

  Denise looked around Phil to find a blushing Emily handing a phone back to the officer. She watched him hustle back to the patrol car then turned and scuffed her foot on the ground, a big, sappy grin on her face.

  There was that gag reflex. “Hot date?” Denise asked.

  “He’s going to call when he gets off work,” Emily said.

  “Did you get his number, too?” Phil asked.

  Emily shook her head. “No. He had to go so he’s going to text me as soon as he can.”

  Phil wasn’t able to hide his look. Denise swallowed a sigh. Note to self: indoctrinate Emily into the dangers of a player.

  “What?” Emily cast confused looks at all of them.

  “I’ll explain later,” Denise said. “Why don’t you call it a day?”

  “Are you sure? It’s only a little after two.”

  “Yeah, go on. I’ll take care of everything for the afternoon.”

  Emily played with the end of her braid. “What about…?” She pointed between Chris and Phil.

  “I’ll answer any questions they have. You already gave a statement to the police. If they have anything else they know where to find you.”

  “Thanks, Denise.” Her phone pinged. She glanced at it and squeed, setting Denise’s teeth on edge. “It’s him!” She flashed the phone at Denise and went back into reception, thumbs flashing across the screen.

  “Huh. He did call. Text. Whatever it is kids do these days,” Phil said.

  Denise looked at Chris. “Punch your partner, please?”

  Chris grinned. “Why don’t you punch him?”

  “I just met him.”

  Phil stepped out of striking distance and made a ’T’ with his hands. “Time-out. Why am I getting punched? And why wasn’t your response, ‘because I can’t strike a Federal agent?’”

  “Well, because I don’t have a problem hitting a federal agent.”

  “True statement.” Chris rubbed the corner of his eye, still a little discolored.

  Denise gave Chris the stink eye before asking Phil, “And speaking of, you’re a federal agent. Where’s your poker face?”

  “I have three daughters. I gave up poker face a long time ago.”

  “Yeah…you should work on that a little more. I think you’re getting played.”

  Phil frowned.

  “A lot.” She did her best to keep a straight face.

  Chris coughed into his hand. “Denise. Surveillance.”

  “Right. I made an extra copy when the cops asked for one. It’s in my office.” She cocked her head and led them through reception, the small indoor kennel, and to her office in the back corner. Pulling the door open, she kicked the doorstop into place.

  “Do you mind if we watch it here?” Chris asked. “That way we can ask questions as we have them.”

  Denise shrugged. “That’s fine.” She sat down and logged onto the computer, plugging in the thumb drive she’d saved the video on earlier.

  “I’m just saying my girls don’t play me a lot,” Phil said in a low voice behind her.

  “Dude.” Chris’s voice was full of humor.

  Denise smiled at the screen. Any guy who showed that much disappointment for a girl he’d just met was wrapped around the tiny fingers of any daughter he had. Nothing wrong with that as far as she was concerned. Her tough-as-nails father had been the same way with her and Sarah.

  She pulled up the video. “I started the recording from the time Eddie pulled into the yard.” She felt the two men crowd into the office, close to her back. If she had to guess, Chris was on her right. His scent reminded her of late summer nights.

  “How far up the drive is the view from the cameras?” Phil asked.

  “Not far. The majority of the cameras focus on the yard between the building and the barn and any access point into the building.”

  “Why’s that?”

  She glanced up to her left. “When we first opened we had problems with people trying to steal dogs.”

  “Seriously?” Chris asked.

  Worried her emotions would show on her face if she looked up at him, she looked back to the screen instead. “We’re primarily a bully breed rescue. Lots of assholes looking for fighting dogs. That’s one reason we decided to start training some of the rescues as service and companion dogs. We could verify a client’s need and work with them directly, instead of just adopting a dog out.”

  On the computer screen a white, four-door sedan pulled into the parking spot nearest the door and Eddie got out of the driver’s side.

  “Doesn’t really seem like his style of car,” Denise said.

  “It was reported stolen earlier in this morning.” Chris’s low voice, close to her ear, sent tingles skipping down the side of her neck. He leaned over her shoulder and pointed at the screen. “Can you pause the video?”

  It was more of a finger spasm than a controlled
click, but she managed to stop the video.

  He braced his hand on the desk, surrounding her. “Can’t see if there’s anyone in the car with him. There’s too much reflection on the glass.”

  Just like when he’d caged her in before, she didn’t feel trapped. It should have helped relax her, instead she became hyperaware of his presence next to her and amped up her fight or flight response.

  “Did you notice anyone else with him?” Phil asked.

  Denise cleared her throat and looked over her shoulder. “He came in by himself. I didn’t notice anyone outside waiting for him, but I was focused on not shooting him without justification.”

  “Good call.” Phil’s phone rang and he pulled it from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. “Excuse me.”

  One person leaving her small, cramped office should have relieved some of the tension, but being alone with Chris for the first time since Sarah’s funeral just seemed to peg the meter. Flicking her gaze toward him, she asked, “Do you want me to keep playing the video?”

  He remained silent and she looked at him fully. His eyes still reminded her of the ocean, blue and clear. She’d always found peace in the ocean.

  “Thank you for calling me.” His voice was deep and husky—intimate in the small space.

  She struggled to control her breathing and keep it even. “It seemed like the right thing to do.”

  “You could have left it to the cops. They would have called us as soon as they ran his name.”

  It hadn’t crossed her mind. The first person she’d thought to call was him. “I’ll do whatever’s necessary to protect Kimber and Kaden.”

  “I know.”

  He didn’t. He had no idea the lengths to which she would go to protect those kids.

  His fingers brushed the back of her neck. “We should—”

  “They found the car.” Phil stopped in the office doorway.

  To his credit, Chris didn’t jump back like he’d been doing something wrong. Not that he had been. Well…maybe. There was probably some rule against getting involved with a potential witness in a federal investigation. Were they involved? Did she want to be involved? Was that even something she was capable of at this point?

  Phil’s gaze moved between them before settling on Chris. “Local LEOs have a forensics team on site, but the Chief wants us to check it out before they tow the car.”

  Chris rose from his lean over her shoulder. “Sure.”

  Denise closed the program and pulled out the thumb drive, holding it out to Chris. What had he been about to say? They should talk? Probably, but she had not one idea about what she would say.

  “Thanks.” He took the drive from her and gestured to the door. “Are you staying here?”

  “No.” She wheeled the chair back from the desk and stood. “I need to take some of the dogs out and I still have a few training sessions this afternoon.”

  “By yourself?” Chris asked.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Phil said. “You shouldn’t be here alone. Just because they found the car doesn’t mean he won’t come back.”

  Her eyes rolled so hard she worried she may have given herself a headache. “I texted my other part-timer and asked him to come in. Mostly because I need the help, otherwise I’ll be here all night.” She shooed Phil out of the doorway. “I’ve also got two possible adoption appointments coming by around four.” She led the way through the row of kennels. “And I’m armed now.”

  “Is this the dog we picked up?”

  Almost to the top of the row, she stopped and turned to see Chris in front of Sweetpea’s cage. The small dog’s butt looked like it had a live wire attached to it given how fast it wiggled back and forth. She joined the two men in front of the cage. “Yeah.”

  “Is she still up for adoption?” Chris unlatched the gate and swung it open, crouching in the opening. The dog launched herself at him and tried to bathe his face with her tongue.

  Hmm…how to answer that question. “She was. I decided Kimber and Kaden needed a dog, so I’m going to keep her.”

  “Really? What about her puppies?” He rubbed the dog’s cheeks, but looked up at Denise.

  “They were all adopted out, almost as soon as they were weaned.”

  “That’s too bad.” A final pat on her side and he pushed the dog back into the kennel. “I’ve been thinking I need some company at home.” He rose and closed the gate, dropping the latch into place.

  “How many of these dogs are up for adoption?” Phil asked.

  Denise fell in beside them as they continued to the front entrance. “All the dogs in here, except Sweetpea, are boarders or here for training.” They walked through the reception area and out the front door.

  “What about in the barn?”

  “Fourteen dogs in the barn, three of which are being assessed for the K9 program.”

  “Wow,” Phil said. “And you manage all this by yourself?”

  She shrugged. “I have the two part-time employees, plus several volunteers who come out a few days a week.”

  He stopped in front of their dark blue sedan. “Still, that’s a lot for one person.”

  “It’s a full-time job. I don’t imagine the FBI is an eight-to-four gig.”

  Phil huffed out a laugh. “No. No, it’s not.” He held out his hand. “Thank you for your help.”

  She shook his hand. “You’re welcome, but if he comes back, it’ll be me needing your help.”

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” He walked around the hood and got in the driver’s side.

  Chris’s hand landed on the small of her back when he stepped around her. “I’ll call you later?”

  She hesitated briefly, then nodded. Whether she’d be ready to talk to him when he called was a completely different matter.

  “Be safe.” The slight rise of his voice at the end softened his command. He squeezed her hip and got in the passenger side.

  Waiting until they reached the top of the drive, she checked the time and jogged up the stairs to her apartment. Going directly to her side of the bed, she knelt down and reached between the slat and the box spring, pulling the small flip phone from its hiding spot. Opening it, she powered it on. Twenty-three percent battery was all she needed and she dialed the number from memory.

  Four rings and it connected. “I need a favor,” she said without waiting for a “hello.”

  “Pretty big favor if you’re calling me.”

  Like she’d told Chris, she’d do whatever it took to protect her kids. “Graham.”

  “What do you need?”

  “Can you meet?”

  She’d chosen a small table in the back corner of Panera after ordering a latte. They’d both be able to sit with their backs to the wall and still view the exits. Sprocket lay at her feet, content for the moment, but Denise had seen her eyeing the display case.

  A tall, well-built man with a salt-and-pepper beard entered through the side door and beelined for her. It took her several seconds to reconcile the attractive man in front of her with her former OIC. Not that he hadn’t been good-looking a decade ago, but he’d been leaner. And the hair had been on top of his head instead of his face.

  He sat in the chair directly facing the restaurant, as she’d expected him to. “Sorry to hear about Sarah.”

  Nodding, she sipped her latte. It was still too raw to acknowledge the condolences without the sting of tears pricking her nose and the backs of her eyes.

  “I had my people look into her ex, but I need to know what you want specifically.”

  She’d always appreciated his direct, no bullshit style. “I need someone on the kids.”

  He threaded his fingers together on the table. “The FBI doesn’t have a trail on them?”

  “Not that I’m aware of.”

  “And if you were aware of it?”

  How to frame her response? “I wouldn’t trust they’d put the safety and well-being of my kids ahead of the target.”

  He raised his e
yebrows. “Even the guy you’re dating?”

  “We’re not dating,” she said quickly. Maybe too quickly, judging by Graham’s continued questioning look. She sighed. “He has to operate under certain legal constraints. You have a lot more flexibility.”

  “What do you want me to do with any information on the ex’s activities.”

  “Can you feed it anonymously to the FBI?” she asked.

  “If that’s what you want, yes.”

  She nodded. “The sooner this is over the better.”

  “Do you want us on your house and the rescue?”

  “Only as far as keeping an eye on Kaden and Kimber.”

  His steely gray eyes assessed her. “You know the job offer still stands.”

  She shook her head. He’d offered her a job when he’d started his private security company five years ago. She hadn’t been in a position to accept then and she had no desire to accept his offer now. “I like where I am.”

  “But are you happy?” he asked.

  It wasn’t a question she’d really ever considered. “Sometimes it’s not about being happy. Sometimes it’s about being content.”

  “That’s a shitty way to live your life.”

  “Are you happy?” she asked.

  Something dark and pained crossed his face, there and gone in a blink. He rapped the table with his knuckles. “We’ll keep them safe. Call if you need anything else.”

  Chapter 13

  “I’m going to buy the kids a play set for the backyard.” Bree upended the wine bottle, pouring the last of it into her glass.

  “What kind of play set?” Denise asked. But the answer was delayed by the ripping sound of packing tape as Denise closed the box she’d finished stuffing full of books and movies.

  “A wooden one with a slide and swing.” Bree leaned against the counter and sipped her wine.

  She wasn’t fooled by that innocent look, envisioning a massive, Swiss Family Robinson monstrosity taking up the entire yard of Bree’s house. She set her hands on her hips. “Show me.”

  Bree rolled her eyes. “It’s not that big.”

  “Show. Me.”