The Phoenix (8 page)

She wanted a family.

Could she have had that and continued to work for the police department? Yes, she could have, she supposed. But watching her mother alternately biting her nails and checking the clock every time her father was late was something she didn’t want to visit on her future spouse or children. Furthermore, though she knew there were men out there who wouldn’t find her career intimidating—she had even briefly dated a couple—she’d yet to find one she wanted to keep around on a permanent basis. On some level it always became a competition, with her boyfriend du jour needing his ego stroked and her having to compromise in order to keep him from feeling inadequate.

She was done compromising.

She wanted a man who was going to respect that she was strong, that she was intelligent. Those were good qualities, right? So why did they always end up becoming an issue? She wanted a man who was confident enough in his own right to go toe to toe with her, one who would give as good as he got, but who didn’t constantly try to bring her to heel. She wanted mutual respect and admiration. An equal partnership. Strengths and weaknesses that balanced and were complementary.

Maybe she wanted too much, Charlie thought with an inward sigh, but if that was the case then so be it. She’d rather be alone than compromise or settle and be miserable. She’d seen her fair share of friends do that and the outcome hadn’t been pretty. One or both partners inevitably grew bitter and the people caught in the middle—typically the children—suffered the most. Charlie frowned. She’d certainly seen enough of that over the course of her career, and a steady diet of inequity was hard to stomach after a while.

Ultimately, that’s why the job at Ranger Security would have been a perfect fit. It would have utilized her finer skills and renewed her faith in humanity. Furthermore, the firm was the best and she was just vain enough to want to be part of their team. Her lips twitched. Whose ego needed stroking now? Charlie thought. But there it was.

And it was that exact same ego that couldn’t allow Jay Weatherford to beat her. She
had
to win, if for no other reason than to make Brian Payne, Jamie Flanagan and Guy McCann sorry for not giving her a chance.

Competing again—but the stakes, for whatever reason, felt much higher, as though there was a hidden purpose hovering just out of her grasp.

Irritated with the nebulous feeling, Charlie batted it aside and made for the guard booth. Burt, whose belly was large and hips nonexistent, was a mustached bald man with ruddy cheeks and no chin. He was playing solitaire on the computer when she arrived, but didn’t start or flinch when she knocked on the door. A quick look at a second monitor indicated why—she was on-screen. As was Jay, crouched low, inspecting a line of fence along the back property line.

An arrow of heat winnowed through her at the sight of him, the sensation as thrilling as it was unwelcome. The way his jeans stretched over that especially mouthwatering rear end was criminally unfair, Charlie bemoaned, determinedly marshaling her thoughts toward something more productive than ogling her opponent.

Charlie smiled. “Burt, I’m—”

“I know who you are,” he said with a long-suffering sigh. “I let you in here, didn’t I?”

Her grin froze. That he had. “Right,” she said, feeling momentarily stupid. “Could I ask you a few questions?”

“You can ask,” he said, saving his game. “But I’ve already told everyone what I know. The story isn’t going to change no matter how many different ways you phrase the questions.”

Oh, wasn’t he a charmer? “Be that as it may, I’d still like to ask,” she told him, her tone leaving him with two choices—obedience or death. She’d run into her share of Burts over the years, the loud-mouth braggarts who looked at her and saw a little pesky woman. She could lay his ass flat if she chose to do so and she’d had to cultivate a voice that conveyed that.

He looked up and reassessed her, then chose correctly. “What would you like to know?”

Now, that was more like it, Charlie thought, pleased. She wished she had a treat to give him. “Where were you when the dog was taken?”

“Right here.”

“You never left the booth?”

“Only for lunch from twelve to one, during which time the gate is locked and the intercom system will buzz directly through to the house.”

“No relief worker?”

He shook his head. “There’s never been a need.”

“And how long have you worked for the Betterworth estate?”

“Almost twenty years. I like being alone, so this job suits me quite well.” No wedding band, she noted, and a cursory glance around the little booth noted a single cup coffeemaker, a mini fridge and several handheld video games. It was neat and tidy, but Burt had clearly made it his own.

Nevertheless, if Marigold Betterworth had been rewarding faithful employees, then why hadn’t Burt been on that list? Had it been a case of out of sight and out of mind? Could he have taken offense at being essentially passed over while the others were given their just due? Charlie made a mental note to ask Ms. Aggie about Burt’s status, then jerked her head toward the security monitor. “Is all surveillance recorded?”

Burt grimaced and shook his head. “Initially we were doing that, but with no incidents other than the occasional teenage prank, we stopped logging everything.”

“What’s your gut telling you on this, Burt?” Charlie asked, playing the old we’re-on-the-same-team routine.

Predictably, Burt took a self-important breath and leaned in conspiratorially. “We are not alone, you know?” he said in ominous undertones. “They’re out there. I’ve seen them.”

A nudge of dread prodded her belly. “Seen who, Burt?”

She had her suspicions, but…

His nervous gaze darted hither and yon before finding hers again. “Them,” he said significantly. “The other kind.”

Oh, dear.

“I’ve been probed,” he confided, then shrugged. “S’not as bad as everyone makes it out to be.”

Alrighty then.
Since she didn’t have any idea how she was supposed to respond to that, she simply smiled.

“I’ve got some literature if you’re interested,” he told her.

“S-sure,” Charlie managed, because to refuse would be unkind.

Burt grinned at her, revealing more gum than teeth. He opened a small drawer in the built-in desk—one she fully intended to search as soon as he left for the evening—and withdrew a pamphlet and handed it to her. “We meet on Thursday evenings at the Pancake Palace and Tattoo Parlor.”

Of course they did.

HOW IN THE HELL HAD they gotten the dog out of this backyard? Jay wondered again, genuinely baffled. Though he’d understood that the fence was essentially a brick wall with deep footers and only one entrance when Ms. Aggie had been explaining it, he nonetheless had truly expected to find the chink in the estate’s defense, the point of entry that to an untested eye would be obvious once revealed.

He hadn’t found so much as a blade of grass out of place.

He’d walked every inch of the perimeter several times, testing the ground and the brick, looking for evidence that anything had been tampered with.

He’d found nothing.

So if the kidnappers hadn’t come through or under, then they had to have come over. But how? Better still, how had they gotten back over the wall without being seen? Without the dog barking or alerting someone that something was amiss? There weren’t any trees or overhanging branches, so dropping over the wall from above would have been impossible.

Clearly a talk with the neighbors on both sides was going to be key, because from where he stood, he couldn’t see any possible way someone could have entered from outside the property and taken the dog.

His gaze slid to the house. If, after further investigation from the other side of the fence, he still felt the same way, then whoever had taken the dog most likely had to be someone from inside the house. Someone that Ms. Aggie trusted.

Jay swore under his breath, anticipating
that
conversation about as much as a hernia exam. Somehow he didn’t think Ms. Aggie was going to appreciate him suspecting the people in her home, the very ones he was certain she trusted implicitly.

But it wasn’t his job to trust them—he was here to find her pet, and if that meant ruffling a few feathers, then so be it.

Even if those feathers belonged to Charlie Martin.

Hell,
especially
if those feathers belonged to Charlie Martin.

He didn’t know what it was about the petite security agent, but she definitely had a way of getting beneath his skin. That perpetually sardonic smile, the knowing, superior look in those pretty hazel eyes. They reminded him of fall, Jay thought. Golden light, green moss and warm brown earth. Appalled at himself, he swore. Hell, he’d be writing poetry next.

“Watch your language,” she said from directly behind him. “Ms. Aggie wouldn’t approve, now, would she?”

Only years of controlling his impulses kept him from starting. How in all that was holy had she managed to sneak up on him? His cheeks suddenly flamed with heat, and, with another muttered oath, he recognized the reaction for what it was—embarrassment.

She smiled up at him, her kitten face wreathed in a self-satisfied smile. “I hope I didn’t scare you.”

He fought a scowl. “Not at all,” he said, turning his back on her once more. He inspected another section of wall, pretending that he hadn’t already done so. Her scent reached him then, something bright and tart, like a green apple.

His favorite, damn her.

“Anything of note in the front of the property?”

She released a pent-up sigh. “Other than Burt the gatekeeper claiming to have been probed by extraterrestrial life forms and his weekly UFO group liking to eat pancakes while getting tattoos, no.”

He stood and slowly swiveled to face her. The dark humor in her gaze seemed sincere, but he couldn’t help wondering if she was just fucking with him. “Come again?”

She moved around him to get a look at the section of fence he’d been inspecting. She was much shorter than he’d originally realized. The top of her head barely came to his shoulder. “He gave me a pamphlet. They believe Jesus was an alien.”

She got right up against the wall and started pressing her foot along the base, a single foot length at a time, looking for loose ground or a hidden hole. He’d done that as well, but had to admit he was impressed with her thoroughness. As a matter of fact, she seemed really attuned to her surroundings, her shrewd gaze skimming along the solid wall, looking for potential entry points. He liked the way she moved, too. Purposeful, with an economy of movement that was both graceful and seemingly unaware.

“I’ve done that already,” he said, trying to save her some time. Which was ridiculous, when he thought about it. Every bit of time she wasted was to his advantage.
Note to self: be less helpful.

“No doubt you have,” she murmured noncommittally, continuing along in the same thorough fashion.

Because he was going to go along behind her anyway, he didn’t take offense. Though he’d gone over every inch of this backyard very thoroughly, he lingered, reluctant to leave her alone. There could only be two reasons for this and neither of them appealed to him in the least. One, he was afraid she’d find something he hadn’t, or two, he was unwisely intrigued by her. Disturbed, Jay realized it was both.

How galling.

Because that was simply…intolerable, Jay turned and made himself walk toward the front yard. He’d taken four steps when he heard her hum thoughtfully under her breath.

He stopped, closed his eyes and swore silently. He retraced his path back to her side. “Found something?”

Evidently, she’d forgotten that she wasn’t alone because when he spoke, she looked over at him and blinked. Then several emotions flitted across her unbelievably expressive face, chagrin being the most prominent one.

“Look,” Jay said. “I realize that we’re working for different clients, but the objective is the same—bring the dog home safely.”

“I’m aware of that,” she said tightly. A flash of irritation lit her gaze. “I’d just like to do it before you do.”

He’d known that, of course, but hadn’t expected her to be so direct. He rather liked it. He leaned forward, purposely invading her personal space just to test the waters, to see if she’d stand her ground or retreat.