Beowulf: Explosives Detection Dog (24 page)

Father’s face grew red. His jaw muscle flexed, as if a stealthy punch. But he said nothing. Hands fisted at his sides, he lifted his jaw.

“I will look into the problem,” Maahir said as he started across the room. “Remember, Colonel, not everyone is of the same mind that violence of action is the only way to succeed.”

        Fifteen        

N
asty!”

Laughing so hard she could barely breathe, Timbrel leaned back against the porch post. “You so deserved that.”

Hunched over, Tony spit several times into the flower bed. “He and I are going to have to have it out.”

“But I’m not ready to lose you yet.”

Tony looked at her and stilled.

More laughter.

His eyes narrowed.

Oh snap! Timbrel leapt up with a shriek, shoved herself over the cement porch, and ripped open the screen. Beo barked and was on her heels.

The screen door never clattered.

She glanced back—

Tony was right there.

With a scream, she darted to the kitchen island. Took cover, Beo at her side, panting.

With a greedy grin, Tony threw himself over the counter. His left thigh slid over the Formica and he flew at her.

If she could make it—Timbrel lunged to her right.

Tony snagged her arm. Tugged her back. She resisted, straining to get her finger around the jamb to the hall. Meaty hands captured her waist. Pulled her, right off her feet.

Beowulf snapped and barked.

Timbrel, in the midst of a hard laugh that came out more like a snort, signaled Beo that all was well. But her boy was playing, too!

Tony whirled her around into his arms—which released her. She threw herself toward the door jamb again.

Groaning, he caught her again.

Lights on the road captured her attention. Through the screen she saw a dark-colored sedan slow in front of the house. Eh, probably a neighbor heading to work. A bit early, but hey, not everyone slept till noon like she did.

But … hold up. Timbrel felt a chill chase away the fun warmth as Tony tugged her against himself. “Wait … Stop.”

Red lights—brakes—lit the night as the car paused in front of the house.

“What is it?” His words skidded along her neck and ear.

The car revved. Pulled away. Fast.

“They just stopped—right in front.”

“I was afraid this might happen.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Okay, get your stuff—enough for a week. We need to clear out.”

“What—wait. Why?” Timbrel looked at him. “You don’t seriously think Bijan—”

“Whether him or someone else, you’re being watched. Time to go. Now, Hogan.”

“ ‘No power in the ’verse … can stop me!’ ”

Tony shook his head and smiled. “
Firefly
—nice. But those guys
will
stop you. Now, do I need to pack for you?”

“Like I’d let you touch my stuff.”

“You have five.” He set his watch timer.

“You’re a pain in my backside, Candyman.”

“Right back atcha, baby.”

Timbrel muffled a laugh as she hurried back to her room. She emptied the backpack she’d taken to LA with her then repacked. Being a tomboy and dressing in jeans and T-shirts made packing easy and light. “Where exactly are we going?”

“Virginia.”

Timbrel stilled, stepped back, and glanced down the hall. “You realize that’s a two-day drive?”

“Three minutes.”

She rolled her eyes. Then it hit her—he’d ridden his bike from Virginia to Texas earlier in the week to find her. Dude.

Don’t think. Don’t think
.

Throwing herself back into the packing, she added a lightweight jacket on top of her unmentionables and toiletries. With her gear, she headed back to the kitchen. Dropped the bag and knelt at the pantry. Beo pushed in beside her. No doubt wanting some treats.

“That all you’re taking?” Tony’s form shadowed her.

“Half. Get out of my light.” She grabbed the pack she used for Beo, filled fourteen plastic pouches with dog food, and loaded them up. Couldn’t go without his treats or his balls. Or his shampoo, extra collar, and lead. Packed, she fed Beo a peanut-butter treat then kissed his head. “That’s my boy.”

On her feet, she noticed Tony had shouldered her first pack. “Ready.”

“I’ll lead on my bike, if you’re cool with that.”

“Okay, but why don’t we stop and get a trailer? My Jeep has a hitch.”

He smiled. “Cool.”

After four hours, a hitch, and a pit stop at what Tony called Four Bucks for coffee and pastries, they were en route to Virginia. “Tell me why we’re going to Virginia.” She said as she waited for Beo to jump up into the Jeep. Getting behind the wheel, she looked at Tony.

“That’s where I live. Me and my family.”

“Family?” She arched an eyebrow.

“Parents.”

She nearly choked on her warmed bear-claw pastry. “You still live with your parents?”

Tony chomped into one of two cinnamon rolls he got and shrugged. But something else flashed through his expression, and the way he did that shrug told her to leave it alone.

She hadn’t even hit the Texas-Arkansas border and Tony’s head was bobbing, eyes drifting shut. He pushed himself straight and scrubbed at his face.

“Dude,” Timbrel said with a laugh, glancing over at him. “Lay your seat back and crash. I’m good.”

Uncertainty tugged at his exhausted features. “You sure?”

“Yeah. I got first watch. I slept on the plane.”

“It was a three-hour flight.”

Beo let out a long-suffering sigh and shifted so his face was between theirs.

“I think Beo just ended this conversation.”

“Fine.” Tony let the seat down and stretched an arm over his face. Then eased back up. “Wake me if you need me to take over. I can go on twenty-minute spurts when necessary.”

She patted his stomach—man, his abs were solid!—and laughed. “Nighty night, Mr. Knight in Shining Armor.”

When Tony slumped back down with a grunt, it caught Beo’s attention. Timbrel tried not to laugh as Beo sniffed and inspected Tony’s hair—

Tony cleared his throat.

—then his arm—

“Hey,” Tony warned quietly.

—then his underarm.

“Hey!” Tony folded his arms and stuffed his hands in his pits. “Can’t a guy get some privacy here?”

Beo sneezed.

“Augh!” Tony flung upward, tugging his shirt up to wipe his face. “I swear he does that on purpose.” He angled toward her. “And you prefer this snotty, drool-blathering beast to me?”

“Well,” Timbrel said trying to bite back the laugh, “since you put it that way …” She hooked her arm up and rubbed Beo’s ears.

Cleaned, Tony turned toward the passenger window and lay on his side, one arm under his head and one over—protecting himself from Beo.

Timbrel giggled. That posture would only egg on her beloved beast. It was one of their favorite ways to play. Instead of letting him pursue Tony, she gave him the signal to lie down. With a defeated grunt and sigh that sounded a lot like exasperation, Beo stretched over the backseat.

Quiet settled as the miles stretched before her. So, Virginia. That’s awfully close to DC. Clogged streets, endless traffic … rapist ex-boyfriends.

Carson Diehl.

Timbrel pushed herself straight in the driver’s seat. Rolled her hand over the steering wheel. It’d been years since she’d even seen him. But he lived there.

In DC.

Not Virginia.

It’d be okay.

Right.
You just told Tony every deep, dark secret and you’re going to hole up with him?

With his parents.

Acid poured through her stomach. What if he told them everything?

You’re stupid, Timbrel
. Telling him. Handing him a get-out-of-jail-free card from this relationship. And what guy in his right mind would stick around for a girl who couldn’t even make out without freaking out?

Tony might think he wanted or knew her. But he didn’t. He had no idea. And once he realized his mistake …

He wasn’t the type to spill stuff. He understood sensitive material, but …

Okay, here’s the plan. Virginia, home of the Pentagon, gave her the perfect opportunity to find Burnett and get him to test that lab coat. It was a legit reason not to stay with Tony. Not be exposed to humiliation or have to open the vault up more. He thought he knew her secrets. And he did.

Just not all of them.

Slowing movement tugged Tony from a sound sleep. Still on his side, he shifted. But something had wedged against his back.

“You can sleep anywhere.”

Looking over his shoulder, he realized the big brindled mutt had stretched over the console and laid his head in Timbrel’s lap.

Beo—hind paws in Tony’s side—stretched and rolled onto his back, exposing his manhood to the world.

“You gotta be kidding me.” He shoved the dog. “Dude. Stop sharing the family jewels.”

Beo flipped upright, bringing his ugly mug right into Tony’s face.

“Hey, c’mon, move!” Tony pushed against the bullmastiff. They needed to establish a few things—as in Tony wasn’t Beo’s stool or stooge.

Beo growled.

With a growl of his own, Tony pushed harder.

Beo snapped but hopped into the back.

“Right where you belong.” Tony pulled up his seat and huffed.

“You know,” Timbrel said as she directed the car into a gas station. “He was here before you.”