Under Fire (28 page)

“It belongs to the uncle of one of my exes.” He worked the controls, slowing and revving the engine at just the right pace to ease up to the dock. “I have an open invitation to use it.”

How open? “Dare I ask which ex-wife?”

“Jealous?”

Yes. “Curious.”

“The second one.”

“Priscilla.” The cheater. The one Rachel actually wanted to kick for hurting Liam. Well, come to think of it, they had all hurt him.

“You remember.”

“That was very important information you shared.” And being jealous was churlish. She cupped his beard-stubbled cheek, full out touching him for the first time since they’d bolted out of bed. “I thought your parting with her was… acrimonious.”

“It was,” he said simply as he cut the engine. “But her uncle and I stay in touch even though I do my best to avoid her.” He pressed a quick kiss into her palm before stepping back to tie off the boat.

The kiss was nice and she wanted another, one that lingered, rather than a brush in passing. Was he just taking care of business or retreating emotionally, destroying another relationship? She desperately wanted to know more, to help herself sort through the jumble of emotions stirred up by this man. But now wasn’t the time. Maybe once they were settled inside.

The cabin windows were thick but surprisingly clean. Above the windows, there were metal roll-down shutters. And as she looked closer, she saw the generator he’d mentioned. It wasn’t just large. It was huge.

Liam vaulted onto the dock and doubled up the tie-offs. The dogs leaped up and onto the planked walkway, sniffing. Intrigued, she climbed out. Even from the outside, she could see now that the cabin offered more than she’d expected, sprawling back with an unseen added space, enough for a couple of bedrooms.

Boat secured, Liam charged ahead of her. Sunlight glinted off his chrome weapon as he advanced toward the shack. He held up a hand for her to wait, reminding her again that while they both had rescue experience, he had a whole added level of combat training. But he blended the personal and professional parts of his life so much better than she did. One minute he was kissing her hand and the next he was ready for a shoot-out.

Watch
his
back.
Sunny’s advice filtered through her mind, sparking an idea she should already have considered if she’d been as good as Liam at staying clearheaded.

She touched his arm and whispered, “Wait.”

He glanced back. “What? Is something wrong?”

“Send Disco in. He knows how to sweep a building. He’s trained.”

Liam blinked in surprise. “Uh, okay. Sure.”

“Open the door. I’ll send him in.”

Liam lifted a small wooden plank beside the window and exposed a security system. He typed in a code, then leaned to twist the doorknob. The hinges creaked.

Kneeling, she looked Disco in the eyes as she’d done dozens of times for searches over the years, not so much lately. “Ready?”

Disco’s ears twitched forward, his body rippling with tensed muscles.
Good
boy.
She unclipped his leash.

“Go find,” she ordered softly, intensely. “Go find.”

The black Lab launched forward in a sleek bolt of determination, sniffing, zigging and zagging into the cabin. He thrived when working. She’d forgotten how much Disco put into his job. A job she’d denied him over the past six months. She blinked back tears.

God, why was he taking so long? Fang started to whine beside her. She petted the pup to calm her, to silence her. Fear burned as she thought of something happening to Disco if he actually found someone. Had she sent him into a trap? Liam kept his gun leveled the whole time, his arsenal-filled duffel on the dock beside him.

Eventually—after what felt like forever—Disco trotted back through the door and stopped in front of her. She dropped to her knees in front of him.

“Good, boy, Disco.” She ruffled his ears. “Good boy. Good work.”

Liam caught Fang by the collar before she could bolt away into the house. “Are you sure?”

She looked up. “I trust him. If Disco says it’s clear, then it’s clear.”

“Okay then.”

Liam started toward the cabin, but she noticed he didn’t put his weapon away. She followed, dogs at her side.

The place darn near sparkled, it was so clean—much like Liam’s place. The kitchen included a two-burner propane stove with a huge white farm sink. The shelves over the stone counter were stocked full of jarred food, boxed milk, juice, and cans of mosquito repellent. A round rough-hewn oak table filled the middle of the room, with bar stools around it. Cane fishing poles were propped in a corner alongside high-tech reels.

And there were electrical outlets. Heavy-duty outlets for major equipment. She looked at the trunks behind the sofa with interest.

She started down the narrow hallway, finding a bedroom on either side and a bathroom at the end. The thought of a shower or a nap only made her throat close with memories of how close she and Liam had been a few hours ago.

How long did she and Liam have here before everyone else showed up? Would they be setting up or shooting the breeze? Or just making love again so they didn’t have to talk? They had so much emotional baggage between them, they needed a freakin’ moving truck to hold everything.

The sound of an approaching boat snapped her back around. Liam was already at the door, weapon drawn. “Wait inside.”

“Like hell,” she whispered.

Heart in her throat, she pulled her Baby Eagle from her backpack and wished she’d had time for the shooting lessons.

Tucking behind him, she raced out onto the porch. She shaded her eyes against the high noon sun. A new airboat rounded the bend with five people on board. Five?

God, she hoped they were friends, because if not, she and Liam were seriously outnumbered.

Storm clouds gathered overhead as Liam looped the line around the dock post. He secured the newly arrived airboat, jam-packed full of passengers—Jose James, the Rochas, and a couple he assumed to be Brandon Harris and Catriona Whittier.

And of course, there were two more dogs—the Rochas’ husky-malamute, Chewie, and some Australian shepherd mix he didn’t recognize.

Liam extended his hand to help the women disembark. Thunder rumbled in the distance. “Hey, Rocha, did someone mail out party invitations and forget to send one to me?”

Wade Rocha chuckled softly. “You didn’t seriously think you could cut me out of this, and Sunny isn’t the type to sit waiting in the wings, ya know?”

“I appreciate the backup.” He should have known Rocha wouldn’t be left behind. Liam would have done the same in his position.

But so many women to protect. Although better here than out in the open at home. And how much help would the new guy provide, especially if he was battling PTSD?

Liam thrust his hand out. “Lieutenant Harris? Nice to finally meet you.”

Brandon hopped from the boat and clasped Liam’s hand in a firm, steady shake. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate your help more than I can say.”

The lieutenant’s eyes appeared lucid. His hair was shaggier than regulation, but not unusual for someone on extended leave. He wore khaki shorts and a polo shirt with a college logo—The Citadel. Sure he was dusty and sweaty, just like the rest of the people stepping out of the boat, shoes thudding on the dock. No immediate red flags, but Liam withheld final judgment. Trusting this guy who’d put Rachel at risk would take time.

Rachel.

Even thinking her name right now made him want to hide her out here where he could keep her safe forever—and make love to her without worrying that all their new roommates would overhear.

Liam gestured everyone down the dock toward the cabin. “Let’s get inside before those clouds open up.”

He led the way down the dock, a fat raindrop landing on his nose just before he stepped under the porch on stilts. Swinging the door wide, he waved everyone inside without once taking his eyes off Harris. Gear piled up in the corner until it looked like a scouting camp out on steroids. Rain picked up speed, pinging the tin roof.

Murky light streamed through the windows. He would crank the generator soon, but for now, he needed to get a handle on Brandon Harris before anything else. Humid though it was, Liam simply opened windows for a cross breeze.

He dragged a chair from the table and started an unofficial circle. The women claimed the couch, creating a wall of estrogen, and his team buddies took seats. Harris chose the bar stool nearest the door, his Australian shepherd–beagle mutt firmly at his side as if they both might bolt.

Elbows on his knees, Liam leaned forward. “Okay, Harris, you have our complete and undivided attention.”

The young security cop folded his hands over his stomach. “Open-minded attention?”

Cocky bastard.

“Are you in a position to be picky? We’ve gone to a lot of trouble for you.”

“For Rachel. I know you’re really here for her.”

“Because you put her life in danger,” Liam snapped before he could call the words back. Hell, he didn’t even want to.

Wind picked up speed in the storm, the eaves creaking at the force, rain misting in through the open windows.

“I did. And I’m sorry for that.” Brandon’s eyes shuffled to Rachel’s with unmistakable contrition. “Honest to God, Rachel, I wish I could go back and do things differently.”

“How?” She reached out to him. “Believe me, I’ve thought about this a hundred different ways and I think we both acted in all the logical, legal ways to report suspicious activity.”

Liam looked back and forth between them, searching for signs that they were more than just connected by the situation. And what do ya know? Catriona Whittier was watching their interaction with the same interest. The woman wasn’t at all what he would have expected from a pet-sitter. She was so thin, damn near frail, she looked like the wind could carry her away. Even her red hair looked fragile, scraped back from her face. She appeared passive.

Except when she looked at Brandon Harris. Then her eyes went fierce.

All right then. Time to figure out exactly what Harris knew. “I guess that makes us your last hope, lieutenant. Convince us.”

Harris’s hand fell to rest on top of his shepherd mutt’s head. “Back in the day before we were at war with everybody all the time, security cops were divided into two categories: law enforcement and base defense. Now we’re all mostly focused on base defense here and overseas, and undermanned for the task.”

Liam nodded. “That’s a heavy load to carry, especially in a war zone.”

Harris wouldn’t be the first to crack from combat burnout. Who wasn’t pulling double and triple duty these days?

“I asked for the deployment.” Harris thumped himself on the chest. “I embraced it. I wanted to go over from the minute I finished training, to have my chance at defending my country.”

Catriona gasped, her attention on Harris even as her hand gravitated into her hobo bag to pull out a chew toy and toss it to Fang. “Brandon, you
wanted
to go to the Middle East?”

Harris winced, looking down at the planked floor. “I thought I was a badass, that I could go over there and make a difference all by myself.”

“Lieutenant,” Liam said, to pull Harris back into the conversation, into the moment, rather than wherever he’d drifted off to. “What exactly was your tasking?”

The silence stretched out, filled only by the increasing storm outside. A crack of thunder vibrated through the cabin.

Harris looked up sharply, blinking. “I was a military bodyguard for a high-profile civilian contractor in southern Afghanistan. I went everywhere with him… meetings, dinner, trips from base to base. Even his shopping trips to pick up touristy crap for his wife and kids back home.”

“A regular family guy,” Liam said, more to keep him talking than anything else.

“No,” Harris’s eyes hardened. “He wasn’t. Those trips to different marketplaces were a cover. He was meeting with contractors from other countries.”

“Not unheard of.”

“That’s what I thought at first.” He swiped the perspiration off his forehead, taking his time, as if gathering his thoughts. Or preparing his story? As a military cop, he would have training in interrogation. Enough to fool the room? To fool a shrink?

“I’m just a lieutenant,” Harris continued, “a lowly nobody, as far as they were concerned. Window dressing. So they talked more openly in front of me than they would around you, Major, or some other higher-ranking official. I know this sounds far-fetched, but as I pieced together those different meetings, I realized they were setting up the exchange of military information.”

“Whoa.” Jose held up a hand. “Contractors from different countries? That’s treason.”

“
If
I could prove it.” Harris rolled his shoulders. “Which I couldn’t. I spoke to my commanding officer, and he said they already had an eighteen-hour workday chasing down tangible threats with hard evidence. So I kept my mouth shut and ears open, waiting for something concrete I could take to the authorities, get some sense of who was pulling the strings. They talked a lot about their ‘bosses’ and reporting back to contacts in the military community, but I never got a name.”