Head Start (Cedar Tree #7) (25 page)

“Joe?” I call out, waiting for him to lift his head from his work. “Do you think I can run down and get something from the kitchen? I need cocoa powder for this recipe and Neil doesn’t have any.”

“What are you making?” Joe pushes back from the table and approaches, curiously looking at the ingredients on the counter. “I’m liking the looks of those chocolate chips,” he says on a smile.

“Brownies. Nigella Lawson’s brownies,” I enlighten him.

“She that gorgeous, stacked British chick? The one who makes cooking look and sound like foreplay?” His eyes light up with interest as he turns to look at her paused image on the TV screen.

“Better not let Naomi hear that lust in your voice,” I caution him with a smile. Guys are all the same.

“You kidding? Naomi’s the one who turned me on to her. Watching Nigella make trifle is better foreplay than porn.” The smirk on his face tells me he
knows
what he’s talking about.

“TMI!” I lift my hands defensively, just in case he wants to share any more. “I did not need that visual.” Joe just chuckles.

“Give the diner a call. See if they have any, and I’ll run down to get it.”

I’m a little disappointed I can’t run down there myself, and hang in the diner for a bit, but I’m not going to give him any trouble. I’m not a fool.

The moment I lock the door behind Joe—he insisted, waiting outside until he heard it engage—my phone rings again.

“Hey, honey,” I say with a smile when I see Neil’s number.

“I like that,” his voice rumbles over the line. “You calling me
honey.
I’m just checking to see how you’re doing?”

“A bit bored, but I just found something to do to kill some time.”

“Yeah? What’s that?” He wants to know, but I don’t want to tell him in case my baking experiment fails.

“A surprise.”

“I like the sound of that too.” His voice goes husky, like it does when he gets turned on. Which is a lot. “Is Joe there?”

“Actually, he’s just run down to the diner for a minute,” I mention. It’s met with silence. “Neil?”

“Is the door locked?” he bites off, sounding angry.

“Yes, I locked it behind him. Neil, he’s just—“

“Stay away from the windows and only open the door when you recognize his voice,” he snaps, cutting me off mid-sentence.”

“All righty, Sergeant Major,” I scoff. Another pregnant silence, and then I hear a deep sigh.

“Sorry, Pup. I’m just worried.” He sounds tired, and I immediately feel myself softening. I know he feels the pressure and the frustration. Not being able to find this lunatic or the woman who’s just gone missing, as well as the responsibility for protecting me. Add to that the fact that he’s barely sleeping and I get why he snaps.

“I know. And I didn’t mean to be flippant. I know you have cause to worry.”

“Guess we’re all stretched a little thin. I’ll be another hour or so. I’ll make it up to you then,” he promises, his voice much warmer now.

Twenty minutes later, I have my pan of brownies ready to go in the oven. Joe has been sitting at the counter the entire time, following the process. Really, I think it was just an excuse to watch Nigella, but whatever. The moment I drop the bowl and spatula in the sink, he leans over the counter and snatches them back out.

“You’re throwing out all the good stuff,” he mutters, before scooping the minute traces of batter from the inside of the bowl with his finger and licking it off.

It doesn’t take long for the warm, mouth-watering scent of chocolate to waft through the apartment. I take yet another peek at the timer to see if it’s ready to come out when I hear steps coming up the outside stairs. Joe is up and out of his chair in a flash and steps cautiously up to the entrance.

“Just me,” Neil’s familiar voice sounds outside, and Joe opens the door.

“Damn, what smells so good?” he says, marching in with bags in his hands. And before I have a chance for a closer look, he drops them and stalks toward me. Without taking his eyes off me, he turns his head slightly, saying to Joe over his shoulder, “There are a few more things in my truck if you don’t mind, Joe.”

Joe just chuckles and disappears out the door.

“You know, babe,” Neil says when he has me cornered against the counter. “Every time I come home and find you still there, I can’t quite believe my luck.” His nose rubs along mine and his eyes are seething with emotions.

“Neil, honey...”

“When I was growing up,” he continues undeterred, “there was one thing I wished for every birthday and every damn Christmas but never got, because according to my parents, it would make a mess. Until I met you. Then you became all I wanted, but it felt like I’d never have that wish either. I’m smarter now, though. I know if there’s something you want bad enough, you find a way to make it happen.”

My hands have come to rest on his chest where I feel his heart pounding under my palm.

“Do you know that’s why I call you Pup?” he asks with a bashful little smile, and I shake my head. “You’re my unattainable wish, and yet, here you are,” he says pulling me close with one arm at the small of my back and his other hand curling around my neck, his thumb stroking my jaw.

I’m lost in his gaze, my own blurring with emotion, when a voice sounds right outside the door. “Is it time yet?”

Neil’s eyes roll up to the ceiling. “A minute!” he yells before looking down at me again. “I figured since I was successful once, I’d see if I could make another dream come true. For both of us.”

“Sorry!” I hear from outside, “He got away!”

I shift to look around Neil’s body just in time to see a dark whimpering mass barrel toward us, almost knocking both of us over.

“Chaos...”

N
eil

It had taken me much longer than anticipated at the animal shelter. If it hadn’t been for the sheriff who happened to walk in with a stray cat he picked up on his rounds, I may not have been able to take the dog home. Drew can be a charming bastard when he wants to be and in no time had the two older ladies manning the place, eating from his hand.

“You owe me.” He smirked at me when he passed me on his way to his patrol car. Yeah, I do.

I don’t think I could’ve given Kendra anything that would’ve had more impact. The tears running down her face when she dropped to her knees and hugged the big dog were happy ones.

Chaos. Weird name for probably the most docile dog I’ve ever met, but when one of the ladies told me he was retired from the DEA, it piqued my interest. He was sitting upright in the passenger seat of my truck, looking straight ahead, his tongue lolling, looking eager to get wherever I was taking him. I’d had to stop at Kendra’s house to pick up the dog stuff she’d already bought for him. It was enough to tide him over for a day or two. 

I’m lying on my back on the bed recapping the day in my head. Kendra is curled up against me while the dog is snoring on the floor beside me, and I’m wondering how the hell I’m going to get to the couch without waking everyone. Hadn’t quite thought that through when I followed Kendra into the bedroom earlier. The rhythmic sounds of Kendra’s breathing and the dog’s snores are quickly lulling me to sleep.

-

“J
ames, movement at two o’clock. What can you see?”

I can barely hear the voice of Fitz through my headpiece. He’s down there somewhere trying to get the drop on a group of insurgents who’ve been targeting our supply transports the past two weeks. Yesterday’s attack that killed a UN worker hitching a ride woke up the brass. As of last night, our objective is to find, identify and neutralize. It’s a nice way of saying hunt them down and eliminate them. For some reason, this order gives me a sense of impending doom.

I’m lying on what remains of a roof after last night’s bombing, peering through the sight on my rifle, scanning the area Fitz indicated. I don’t see any movement there, but from the corner of my eye I see the glint off a rifle sticking out a blown out window to the left.

“Fitz,” I hiss, but only the crackle of static comes back. “Jesus, Fitz. Ten o’clock sniper.”

Suddenly the rubble littered street down below comes alive with gunfire. Four of my buddies are on the street below, carefully making their way from building to building, including Fitz. Dirt flies up, partially obscuring my view of the scene below and I focus on the window where the rifle I spotted earlier is laying heavy fire into the street. I slow my breathing down, reset my sight and wait for the right moment. The instant the barrel of the rifle reappears, I take my shot and watch as a body comes tumbling out the window. The fabric of the thawb he’s wearing floating behind him like wings.

When I get down, I find only three of my guys standing. Fitz is down, the blood pooling around his body and half his face gone. The pain in my chest at seeing my best friend dead at my feet turns into a burning anger, and in long strides, I walk toward where the body had fallen from the window. I find him among a pile of rubble. He looks small, lying in a crumpled heap. In my anger, I kick his body over. A boy, no more than twelve years old, with a face innocent and still in death, stares up with unseeing eyes.

-

W
et. My face is wet, and an unfamiliar whining hits my ears. Cracking open my eyes against early morning sunlight sneaking in through the blinds, the first thing I see is the dog’s nose just inches from mine on the mattress. He’s the one whining, but as my hand comes up to stroke his big head, I can hear the staccato of his tail against the floor.
Shit
. I fell asleep. Slowly I turn the other way, hoping the dog or I didn’t wake Kendra. No such luck. She’s sitting cross-legged on the bed beside me, her eyes sad but her mouth smiling.

“Hey,” she murmurs, her hand reaching out to brush the hair from my forehead.

“Hey back,” I respond, my voice more of a croak.

I look at her, wondering what I’ve done to wake both her and the dog. Did I hurt her? As if I’ve wondered out loud, she leans in and gives me a soft kiss on the lips. “You didn’t touch me.” Her words are reassuring, but at the same time they concern me. How much does this woman see? How much have I given away?

“You know,” she starts, leaning over me to pat Chaos on the head. “I’m thinking the dog has more qualities than he shows at first glance.”

“How so?” I ask, folding my arms behind my head.

“It’s his whining that woke me up. You were muttering in your sleep, obviously dreaming, and he was sitting beside you licking your face. I think he senses your distress.”

Slightly uncomfortable, I pull myself up to sitting, patting the mattress beside me. Kendra crawls up and settles in against me, her hand on my stomach. A pathetic little whimper draws my attention back to the dog, whose tail hasn’t stopped thumping the floor, looking at me eagerly. “Oh fine,” I grumble. “Get up here you big lug.” All it takes is one tap of my hand on the mattress, and the heavy dog jumps up, crawling over me and lying down between our legs, his head resting on my thigh. His warm brown eyes never leave my face.

Despite the nightmare that is forcing me to relive the one thing I’d love to forget, I feel content—even happy—in this moment. I let Kendra’s hair, which is floating loose around her face, run through my fingers and consider telling her everything. Before I can even stop myself, the words are coming. Slowly at first, but soon tumbling out of my mouth, racing to the end. The end; where I shot and killed a boy no more than half my age. Just a child.

Kendra’s hand flexes on my stomach but surprisingly she doesn’t move. There’s no exclamation of shock, nor are there platitudes, neither of which I would’ve handled very well. There’s just the dog, his eyes full of adoration on me, and the softly crying woman warm against my side. And for the first time in the last eight years, my heart feels as light as a feather.

K
endra

“Want more coffee?”

Arlene walks up to the table lifting the thermos. We’d been late finally getting out of bed. After Neil’s early morning nightmare and subsequent confession, we didn’t say much. Not in words anyway. Mal had come to the door, and Neil was able to convince him to take Chaos for a brisk walk before relieving Joe outside. The moment he closed the door on Mal, he was back in bed, and we let our bodies do all the talking.

“Please.” I smile at her, pushing the leftovers of my breakfast to the center of the table and handing her my mug. Neil is already shoveling my leftovers in his mouth and Arlene just shakes her head at him.

“Bottomless pit, that one,” she observes as she pours the coffee. “Never known him to say no to any kind of food offered. Growing boys and all that.” Neil doesn’t react, but somehow the reference to him as
boy
doesn’t sit well with me. Even though I called him that quite often, up until just over a month ago.

“Actually, I hardly think Neil can be considered a boy, Arlene.” Perhaps it came out a little too sharp, because suddenly I feel both Arlene’s and Neil’s surprised eyes on me. Avoiding Neil, I focus instead on Arlene, trying to soften my earlier tone with a smile. Arlene smiles back, a calculating glint in her eyes.