Half awake, half asleep, Rachel felt the mattress dip as Liam slid into bed behind her. She didn’t even question how she knew it was him. The air just, well, changed when he entered a room.
She rolled over in the split-rail bed and into his arms. Her bare legs tangled with his, since he wore just boxers and a T-shirt. The rain tapped hypnotically on the roof. Trees swayed and twined in a shadow show outside the window.
“I didn’t mean to wake you.” He tugged the sheet up to their shoulders. The log cabin quilt was folded and draped along a cane rocker. His jeans were draped on top and she hadn’t even heard him get undressed.
Sliding closer, she fit her body to his and toyed with his dog tags. “Did you find out anything new?”
“There’s definitely data on the chip that has nothing to do with favorite phone numbers.” He stroked her hair back, then tucked his hand into the overlong T-shirt to cup her bare shoulder. “But it’s all in a code we’re not having any luck breaking.”
Relief sparked through her so intensely she squeezed her eyes closed. She hadn’t realized until now just how much she’d feared Brandon might be wrong. Although how crazy was it to be happy there was a traitor out there gunning for them? “So this nightmare is all too real.”
“I’m sure enough to be very careful that chip lands in the right hands.”
“Thank you. Oh God, thank you.” She rested her forehead on his chest, inhaling the familiar musky scent of him and letting it sweep away the fear she’d been carting around like an eighty-pound pack. Finally, she steadied her breathing enough to speak again. “Where’s everyone else?”
“Cuervo’s pulling a shift guarding out front. Sunny and Wade are sleeping on bedrolls in the living room. Brandon said he would watch over the dog-sitter in the spare room.”
She scooted up to sit against the log headboard. “Were you able to call in? Did you speak with Agent Cramer or Captain Bernard?”
“The storm kept us from getting a steady signal.”
So they were still on their own out here. But with more people aware of the situation, on board and believing, this wouldn’t get shuffled under a rug. Whoever was trying to sell those secrets would be caught.
All those instincts she’d honed working search and rescue missions were coming back to life and shouting for her to be on the lookout for unfinished business in this crazy mess.
And her business with Liam? They’d taken a huge step in sleeping together, but where did they go from here? How would they fit into each other’s everyday lives, when he’d screwed up commitment so often he was scared to go there again? And when she was starting to believe in the possibility of happily ever after for the first time since she’d lost Caden?
Liam shifted next to her again and then moved again. “Do you think we could fit any more dogs in this bed?”
Leaning forward, she shooed Disco and Fang to the floor. Their nails clicked against the hardwood until they settled on an oval braid rug at the foot of the bed.
She slumped back onto his chest. “Better?”
“Roomier.”
“Do you have a thing against dogs on the bed?”
“A double bed? Yes. A queen- or king-size? No problem at all.”
Wow, strange how important that one little question was to her. And even stranger to take hope from it, when they had such larger concerns waiting back in the real world.
“I can’t imagine life without my dogs. Everything feels… simpler when they’re with me. My PTSD patients tell their dog things they haven’t been able to share. And once the wall comes down…” She wasn’t sure how she would have made it through losing Caden without her own dog then. She’d been so alone, without her mother. “There are even therapy dogs in some schools to help children gain confidence in reading. Dogs don’t judge. Their attention—their love—is unconditional, no matter how crummy a past they’ve come from themselves.”
“Maybe I should have gotten a dog instead of getting married every other week.” His voice was hoarse, groggy even, as he toyed with her hair. “I could have saved myself a boatload in legal fees and divorce settlements.”
“Maybe you should have.”
“I was joking.”
“I’m not.” She looked up to meet his eyes, the steady beat of the rain on the roof echoing the sound of her racing heart.
“Helluva way to tell me Fang is my new dog.”
Again, he’d tried to deflect with humor, but she wasn’t so easily sidetracked. “I would never push a dog on anyone. A pet deserves to be welcomed and wanted unconditionally. So do people, for that matter.”
Dog nails clicked on the floor, tracking around to Liam’s side of the bed. Fang rested her chin on the mattress next to him. His hand rested on top of the pup’s head. “What’ll happen to her now?”
“I’ll find a good home for her,” she answered vaguely, trying to push down how much she wanted that home to be with Liam.
For Fang. Not for her. That would be too rushed, of course.
“You could keep her and train her.” His hand smoothed over the puppy’s knobby brown head.
So he didn’t want her to give the dog away, but he hadn’t stepped up to claim Fang for himself. What was holding him back from doing that now? And why was she so certain committing to the dog would be a big cosmic sign he was ready to settle down for real?
“It’s too soon to decide if she has the necessary traits for that kind of work.” She burrowed closer to his side. “Have you ever had a pet?”
“My dad was allergic. Then I was traveling too much…”
The hesitation in his voice made her ask, “But?”
“There was this one time, back when I was an Army Ranger in Afghanistan. A stray dog hung out around our compound. He was a brown mutt type, like a German shepherd with no markings other than one white paw, his left front one. We unofficially adopted him.”
All these years and he remembered exactly what the dog looked like. Rachel’s heart squeezed. “What was his name?”
“Rocky.” Lightning sparked, filling the room with light as he stroked Fang’s nose. “He was always there waiting for us on top of a rock pile, even warned us a couple of times of a land mine or approaching enemy. Until he didn’t…”
“Didn’t?”
“Animal control works differently over there… or rather not at all. The insurgents shot him.”
Rachel didn’t even respond. Words would be trite, and he wasn’t really with her right now. His mind was clearly in another time and place.
“Things—missions—were tougher to cope with after he was gone. Rocky didn’t have any formal training, but he sure helped a bunch of worn out rangers get through the day.”
She’d heard about the horrors that soldiers faced, as they poured out their stories while holding on to any number of dogs. For some reason, rescued dogs seemed to have a special affinity for the job. Shared pain, perhaps? A wounded vet tapped into that belief in second chances.
And above all, dogs didn’t judge.
Liam’s hand slid from the puppy. “I probably could have used this little mutt back in the day, but I’m getting out now.”
“How does the team feel about that?” How did she feel about that? She didn’t know.
“It’s not like we’re guaranteed to work together forever anyway. Already one of our guys has transferred up to a training position in Panama City. Hugh Franco—you should remember him from the Bahamas.”
“Hmmm…” She feathered her fingers over his furrowed forehead. “You’re not happy about this decision.”
He clasped her arm and kissed her wrist before setting it to rest on his chest. “The military has been my life, at the expense of my personal relationships. The time has come to make a change.”
Nerves buzzed in her stomach. Could he be talking about the two of them? Except truth be told, she wasn’t sure she could envision him hanging up his uniform. “I thought you were against relationships because of your ex-wives and childhood. But now you’re saying it’s because of your job too.”
“Maybe it’s all of the above. Or maybe now that I’m actually working through it, now that I’m ready to retire, I’m reconsidering my stance on relationships.”
This was moving fast. Too fast? She was only getting used to the idea of sleeping together, maybe going out on a date where no cop showed up with handcuffs, and now he was talking about the future? “Don’t you think we need to get through the present first? Conversations like this should be saved for times when we’re not hyped on adrenaline.”
“You think I’m just letting adrenaline do the thinking for me? After you’ve worked a particularly tough SAR mission, what was your first instinct? To propose to someone?”
Propose? Nerves turned to all-out panic. “Um, I usually took a hot bath and cried my eyes out.” She kissed his nose, then stroked lower in hopes of distracting him. The sex part they could handle without messing up. “You don’t look much like the bubble bath and cry type.”
He covered her roving hand. “And I’m also not the type to jump into bed without thinking. I’m seasoned in my job, just as you are. I know the difference between adrenaline and reality.”
She wasn’t ready for deep conversations, especially not now. Would he press the issue though?
“Are you saying you object to having sex with me unless I agree right here and now to marry you?”
He held her eyes as steadily as he held her hand. Then his eyes slid lower, his palm guiding her hand downward as well. “I’m willing to table the discussion temporarily in the interest of not disturbing folks sleeping in the next room.”
“Then we’ll need to be very, very quiet.” Angling her mouth over his, she kissed him, touched, and yes, God help her, even loved him.
Two hours later, Liam slid from bed, careful to keep the sheet draped over Rachel’s naked body. He snagged his jeans off the cane rocker and tugged them on again. Stepping over Disco, asleep on the braid rug, Liam leaned against the window. Trees bent and twisted in the wind in a shadowy kung fu kind of display where arms and legs periodically snapped off.
A whimper drew his attention down to Fang. The puppy nosed his hand and probably needed to be let out. Hopefully the rain would let up soon. He scratched the dog’s nose and looked outside again. He could feel himself zoning out with each snap of lightning and thunder that reminded him too much of past missions, until he settled in on the one that had changed his life forever. The mission in the earthquake-ravaged Bahamas, when he’d met Rachel…
He lurched as the ground shook under his feet. He grabbed the tractor beside him for support. Debris shifted below his feet, rattling all the way to his teeth. Rescue workers scrambled down the piles, carrying the male victim he’d just stabilized and extricated—a businessman who’d been trapped in his office chair.
Frantic wails filled the air from family members who’d been digging with shovels, even hands, in search of loved ones. A German shepherd, Zorro, jockeyed for balance on top of a shifting concrete slab.
He had to get off this oscillating pyramid of debris. Now.
His pulse ramped with adrenaline. Splaying his arms for balance, he tested for firmer ground. The structural-triage report on this site had sucked, but Hugh had been ready to tunnel in once Zorro barked a live find.
He looked left fast to check on team member Wade Rocha. Combat boots planted, Rocha balanced with the feed line tight in his grip… the other end attached to Hugh Franco somewhere underneath the trembling hell.
Shit. Franco. Stuck below with his victim.
And just that fast, the earth steadied.