Task Force Bride

by Julie Miller

  Whatever the reason behind this show of support, Hope curled her fingers into the back of his shirt and held on. She needed to feel safe for a few moments. She needed to know she’d made the right decision to agree to helping the police.

  She needed to hear him say it again, in that deep, husky voice that danced across her eardrums and soothed the fear from her heart. “You’re not alone.”

  Chapter Eight

  “I don’t like it.” Pike squatted down in front of the shattered windowpane in the vestibule at the bridal shop. Hans was right there in his business, too, sniffing the broken glass littering the floor, whining in his throat as Pike pulled his flashlight from the back pocket of his jeans. Those dark brown eyes were trying to tell him something about what had happened here, but nothing beyond the signs of a routine break-in were making the dog’s message any clearer. “What is it, boy?”

  Hans sat and dipped his nose toward the corner where the frame around the busted pane met the adjoining brick wall. The dog’s long black muzzle moved closer and closer to the dangerous shards of glass—a strong enough hit on something that Pike swung his light around and leaned in closer.

  The nose never missed a trick. There was a stain of viscous red liquid clinging to an arrow point of glass protruding from the window frame. “Our guy cut himself.”

  Pike snapped a few pictures with his cell phone and texted them in with the report he’d made earlier. Then he patted the dog’s flank and pushed to his feet, drawing the shepherd away from the crime scene. “Good boy.” He bent down to ruffle up his fur before pulling the dog back into the shop. The intruder’s injury probably wasn’t the main reason he’d aborted the break-in. “You did good, Hansie. Bad Guy didn’t get in. You did real good.”

  Hope was standing inside in the darkness of the closed shop, still wearing her trench coat and hugging her arms around her waist. “The one hour we were gone for pizza is when somebody breaks in? He’s definitely watching the place.”

  “I know.” Pike unhooked Hans’s leash and harness and tossed him a crunchy treat from the pocket of the canvas jacket he wore. “I know it’s what we were hoping for, but I hate to say it. Our man’s taken the bait.”

  At her audible gasp, Pike reached over to flip on a light switch to flood the store with light and hopefully alleviate some of Hope’s fear. Just as he’d imagined, she was pale as a ghost and keeping a wary eye on Hans to see where the dog settled down to enjoy his snack. But then those lake-gray eyes moved back to him, and he could see that, although she was rightfully concerned, she wasn’t on the verge of wigging out on him as she had done in the past. “I did a quick walk-through while you two were outside. It doesn’t look like anything has been taken or vandalized.”

  Not for the first time, he wondered exactly what had happened in her past to cause those panic attacks, and what it took for her to control them. He knew one thing, though, the woman was a fighter. Whatever he, KCPD, her father, those damn reporters or the Rose Red Rapist himself threw at her, she kept coming back for more. Pike never would have expected that kind of tenacity from such a shy, feminine woman. But he admired it. He liked it.

  He was beginning to notice and appreciate a few too many things about the neighborhood spinster. Things that kept distracting him from the idea that this was an assignment he was working on, not his “let’s be friends with everyone ’cause you got no game” love life.

  But when he zeroed in on the patient expectation behind Hope’s glasses, he remembered she was looking to him for protection and guidance through this undercover op, not another kissing lesson.

  “Hans tracked the scent to the sidewalk across the street, but we lost the trail. The perp probably climbed into a vehicle and drove north. It’d be easy to get lost in city traffic if anyone did spot him.” Pike shed his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his chambray shirt, physically reminding himself that this was work. He propped open the door and took a closer look at the mess they’d come back to. Whatever the intruder had been after, he hadn’t gotten through the newly replaced lock that led up to Hope’s apartment, or through the second door that led into her shop. The most likely reason the perp had turned tail and run was stretched out on his belly and licking treat crumbs off the tile floor. “I’m guessing Hans scared him off. He’s a better deterrent than your alarm system.” He aimed the flashlight at the wire tacked to the molding beside the door. “Which looks like it’s been cut. Camera’s out, too.”

  “And we’re sure it’s him?” Her voice was closer now and he turned to find Hope standing in the shop doorway, holding a broom and dustpan, ready to keep moving forward. Definitely a fighter. But Pike had seen the worst the Rose Red Rapist and his accomplice could do. No matter how tenacious Hope might be, she didn’t stand a chance on her own against them. Pike needed to make her understand that she was part of a team.

  “Sorry.” He took the broom and dustpan and set them just inside the door. “We’ll have to wait for the CSIs to secure that blood sample, dust for prints and check for any other trace before we can clean up.”

  “Oh. Right.” She plunged her hands inside the pockets of her coat, marked where Hans was lying and that the dog was stationary and headed over to the counter, where she pulled down a long ivory dress and carried it toward the fitting rooms. “Then I’ll finish cleaning up in here while we wait.”

  Inhaling a deep breath, Pike resigned himself to his most difficult challenge yet, and followed her across the shop. “Hold up, Hope.” He came up behind her in the mirror. He settled his hands lightly at her waist and looked at their reflection in the mirror. She hugged the simple, lacy dress in front of her and met his gaze in the mirror. He liked how the deep V of the neckline would reveal an enticing bit of skin, but the lace on top would keep her all covered up and ladylike. “You’d look beautiful in this.”

  A rosy hue of self-consciousness crept up her neck and warmed her cheeks. “Thank you.” She blushed beautifully, without any false modesty, and he added that to the growing list of things he liked about this woman. He even kind of liked the rush he got, knowing something he said or did could cause all that pretty, porcelain skin to turn rosy. “Have you ever worn a tux?”

  He nodded above her head. “Just once. My brother Alex’s wedding.”

  “I bet you made a handsome figure all dressed up like that.”

  Pike chuckled. “Except for that noose of a tie and the shoes that pinched my feet, it wasn’t altogether the worst wardrobe experience I’ve ever had.”

  “You’re not a suit-and-tie kind of guy?”

  Although he still wore his gun and badge on his belt, the jeans and work boots he wore now were pretty much the only uniform he had outside of his black KCPD regs. Unless he was truly off duty. Then it’d be running or fishing gear. “How’d you figure that out?”

  Her lips softly pouted together when she smiled and something hitched inside him. Oh, yeah, he wouldn’t mind a little more schooling in that department. But, tempting as it was to uncover a little more of the innocent passion hiding behind the spinster facade, Pike had something more important they needed to accomplish first.

  “I think we need to have another lesson.” He heard her breath catch when he reached around her to take the gown and drape it over the sofa.

  “On what?”

  “Trust. And what we can do to keep you safe.”

  She spun around with an apology stamped on her face. “I don’t blame you for the attempted break-in. I know it takes me a little while to relax around new people, but I trust you.”

  Pike reached for her hand. “I need you to trust my partner, too.”

  Hope planted her feet and pulled against his grip. “I don’t know if I’m comfortable—”

  “Shh.”

  Hope’s eyes widened like twin moons as he turned his head and whistled. Hans jumped to his feet and loped across the shop. His toenails clicked on the hard tile floor.

  “Come on, boy. Up.” Pike tapped his chest and the beast rose
on his hind legs and propped two tawny paws on Pike’s shoulders. He panted with excitement as Pike rubbed his hands along Hans’s jowls and neck. “I always think he looks like he’s smiling when I do that.”

  Sadly, the instant he’d released Hope’s hand to pet the dog, Hope had darted away to hide behind the trio of mirrors. “Dogs don’t smile.”

  “One step forward and two steps back, eh, buddy?” Pike’s shoulders lifted with a deep breath. In a firmer tone, he pushed the dog down and ordered him to sit. Then he brushed off his hands and turned to Hope. “Come here. Hans is part of this undercover op, too, so we have to do this.”

  Hope couldn’t seem to release her grip on the mirror. “Have to?”

  “He won’t hurt you. I promise.” Pike held out his hand, asking her to trust him with this, too. He stretched his arm out farther. “He’s part of your protection team, Hope. I need Hans to be able to do more than guard the place when we’re gone. If, for some reason, I can’t be there when you need me, Hans is my backup.”

  “Why wouldn’t you be there...?” There was no blush on those pale cheeks now. “Oh.”

  He was her first line of defense. But he wasn’t her only line of defense. “Hans doesn’t know how to quit. If something happens to me, he’ll protect you.”

  He waited patiently, never taking his eyes from hers. His patience paid off when she finally moved away from the mirror and laid her palm against his. He bit down on the urge to say, Good girl, and curled his fingers around hers to pull her up beside him, not two feet from the watchful eyes and black muzzle with all those teeth that seemed to terrify her.

  Pike started talking before Hope’s fear took hold and she ran from him again. “It’s smart not to approach a dog you’re unfamiliar with. But I know Hans and how he behaves. A dog’s owner or handler should always clue you in on a dog’s behavior before you jump in to pet him or play with him.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “Curl your fingers into a fist and let him sniff your scent before you try to touch him.” Pike demonstrated what he wanted her to do. But when the dog’s long red tongue slopped out over Pike’s fist, Hope jumped back, digging her fingers into Pike’s forearm as she ducked behind him. Hans’s midnight-brown eyes shifted to her jerky movements and she retreated another step. But Pike pulled her right back to his side and the dog turned his attention back to him. “Most dogs bite because they’re startled, not because they’re inherently aggressive. Some breeds do attach their loyalty to one person or pack unit, and can be protective, but most of them will simply avoid or ignore an outsider unless you startle him or threaten his person or pack in some way.”

  Hope squeezed her hand more tightly around Pike’s grip. “But some guard dogs do attack.”

  “If that’s what they’re trained to do. Unless he’s got some mental defect, with enough time and consistency, and if they’ve been properly socialized, pretty much any dog can be trained to behave the way you want him to. So whether he’s a safe dog or a danger to others usually depends on the owner.” When she didn’t respond, Pike leaned closer and nudged his shoulder against hers. “I’m thinking maybe you haven’t been properly socialized, either.”

  A deep breath eased from Hope and she bumped him back, understanding he was teasing her. “Are you training me like the dog?”

  “It’s what I know how to do. Hans, steh.” The dog lurched to his feet and Hope darted behind Pike. Her fingers clawed into the back of his shirt, and Pike’s skin jumped where the ten needy imprints dug in. For a split second he was aware of breasts and grabbing hands and Hope’s warm body clinging to his. But despite the instant, thumping urge that heated his blood, Pike made himself stand rock-still. He spoke to her in the same calm, articulate voice he’d used with the dog. “Now you tell him to lie down.”

  Her fingers tightened above his belt.

  “Say his name and the command in a firm voice. You don’t need to yell, just be succinct.”

  “He won’t listen to me.”

  “The command is ‘Hans, platz.’”

  The big German shepherd tilted his head to one side, as though questioning who Pike was giving the command to. “Hans, platz,” Hope whispered into the back of his shirt.

  Pike reached behind him and pulled Hope in front of him. “You’ll have to say it so he can hear you.”

  The dog was looking up at her now. And though she backed that sweet, round bottom right against his groin, Pike resisted the urge to do more than cup Hope’s shoulders and encourage her to try again.

  “Hans. Platz.” Hope repeated the command in a stronger voice.

  With what looked like a nod of his large, masked face, Hans stretched out on the floor at her feet. The warm vanilla scent of Hope’s hair swept past Pike’s nose when she tilted her head back to beam a smile at him. “He did it.”

  Pike squeezed her shoulders before moving to stand beside her. “Now reward him for obeying.”

  “How?”

  “Treats. Playing a game—although I don’t think you’re ready for tug-of-war quite yet.” Pike squatted down beside Hope and mussed the dog’s fur on top of his head. “Or pet him.”

  “I can’t.”

  Pike tugged her down to her knees beside him. “You’re the bravest woman I know, Hope. If you can stand up to the Rose Red Rapist, you can pet ol’ Hansie here.”

  While she processed that reassurance, Pike placed her hand on top of Hans’s head, and using his fingers to guide hers, showed Hope how to pet the warm, furry head.

  “Easy.” Stroke once. Again. “That’s it. Did you know that petting a dog is supposed to lower your blood pressure?”

  “I doubt they’d want to include me in that medical study.” Despite the sarcasm, she took over the gentle massage, and Pike gradually pulled his hand away.

  “He’s warm like you,” Hope observed, continuing the gentle strokes on her own. “Hairier, of course.”

  “I hope so.”

  “And his ears are so soft.” Hope’s grip on Pike’s knee eased as she lengthened her strokes out to the dog’s shoulder. Although Hans was panting lightly, he seemed to enjoy the tentative massage. “We had two dogs when I was little. Short-haired. Bigger than Hans.” She swallowed hard and her fingers pinched his knee again. “Maybe because I was a little girl, they seemed bigger than they really were.”

  Was she opening up to him about whatever had triggered this phobia of dogs? Pike brushed a tawny curl away from Hope’s cheek, silently urging her to continue. “What were their names?”

  Pike felt the tension radiating off her. Hans sensed it, too, judging by the whine in his throat. Her fingers twitched in Hans’s fur. “Hank called them the babysitters.”

  His fingers stilled at her temple. Little girl. Big dogs. Babysitters? His gaze dropped to the scars on her wrist. He had a very bad feeling about where this conversation was going. “And?”

  Her vision glazed over. Her hands clenched into fists. Ah, hell.

  Sensing the change in the woman petting him, Hans raised his head, pushing his cold wet nose against Hope’s arm. Pike saw curiosity, concern. But when Hans stretched his mouth open in a yawn, exposing those long rows of teeth, Hope saw something else.

  “No, Jack!” She jerked back as a memory surfaced and terror consumed her. She tumbled into Pike, knocking him on his rear. “Stop!”

  “Hope? What the...? Who’s Jack? Hans, bleib!”

  The dog froze, but Hope was moving. She pushed at Pike’s shoulders, scrambling to her feet, fleeing toward the nearest door.

  Pike got to his feet and grabbed her hand. “It’s okay. You were doing great. Hans was liking it. That was a yawn. He’s relaxing.”

  “I’m not.” She swung around, punching at his wrist to free herself. “Let me go!”

  “Hope?” Her eyes were wild, her skin flushed, her movements pure panic. “Hope!” She fisted her hand again. Enough. For both their sakes, Pike cinched his arms around hers like a straitjacket, lifting her off the floor, snugg
ing her right up against his chest and pinning her while she shoved and twisted against him. Even though she lost one high heel, her kicking feet were still doing some damage. One caught Pike between the shins and tripped him onto the couch. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Pike rolled into the deep leather cushions, cocooning her thrashing body between his and the back of the couch. He put his lips against her ear and whispered her name. “Shh. Honey, you’re all right. Hope? Hope.”

  “Stop it!” she yelled at whatever demon pursued her. “Please!” she wailed. Her running legs tangled with his. Her pounding hands fisted in his shirt. “Don’t—”

  Pike caught Hope’s face between his hands and closed his mouth over hers. Something desperate, something clever and maybe something completely selfish had flashed through him as her fear turned into sobs. He wasted no time with a patient tutorial. He forced her lips apart and plunged inside—giving, taking, demanding. The initial shock of the kiss snapped her out of the panic and stilled her struggles.

  Hope’s deep gray eyes opened and locked onto his. His breath steamed through his nose as he lifted his mouth to ensure that she was back in the present. Here. With him. Not afraid.

  In the next breath, a very different sort of urgency erupted between them. Hope wound her arms around Pike’s neck and pulled him back into the kiss. Her chest and hips slid against his, seeking the full body contact he’d forced on her moments earlier.

  Pike thrust his tongue inside her hot, open mouth, drinking in her eager welcome. He palmed her butt and twisted them to a more comfortable position on the couch, with her lying partly beneath him, giving his hands easier access to discover all the secrets of her lush, womanly body. While her lips skidded across his jaw, sampling a taste here, experimenting with a nip there, Pike freed the rest of her hair from its confining clip and sifted the silky tresses through his greedy fingers.