Not. Wise. “I’ll see what we can do about having someone pick him up and bring him in and I’ll have someone check on the doggy day care place.”
“Staking out a doggy day care? Oh my God, Liam.” She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. “This is crazy.”
“Damn straight, it is.” He tossed the burned stir-fry down the disposal and yanked open the pantry. “You need to eat something on the way over. It could be hours before you get a chance.”
He pitched a protein bar her way, snagging another for himself along with two cans of juice. Taking charge. What he did best. What she needed most from him now. And if what she feared was actually true, a lot more people needed him to get to the root of this mess before the unthinkable happened.
“You’re a health-food nut.” She eyed her candy bar beside her wallet on the table.
“And I’m guessing that comment means you aren’t.” He’d checked out books from the library on cooking healthy for his mom. “You can critique my food choice later. Come, Disco.”
Her dog plunked onto his butt. Liam ground his teeth. Apparently no one had told the dog who was in charge. “No more steak for you.”
“He only listens to me.” She patted her leg and the dog walked up beside her. “Let’s go. We can talk in the Jeep. And I can call Brandon while you’re driving.”
***
Brandon Harris had been told he possessed nerves of steel—on the football field. But he didn’t play college football anymore and his nerves sucked, courtesy of his last deployment to the Middle East.
He threw his truck into park and turned off the headlights, past ready to pick up his dog Harley from the sitter and kick back with a beer at home. In fact, his whole life sucked these days, tough to swallow when he’d had the world by the tail for most of his life. But he wasn’t at The Citadel military college these days or even in his job as a security cop in the air force. Since his return from Afghanistan, he was… in limbo.
And he was late picking up his dog, Harley.
He jumped out of the truck, his gym shoes hitting the sandy driveway outside the doggy day care.
Doggy frickin’ day care, for Christ’s sake.
Shaking his head, he scrubbed a hand over his shaggy hair, longer than normal these days. But then, he was on extended medical leave until they decided if he was a permanent or temporary basket case. Which meant he had to keep his appointments with the base shrink if he wanted to stand any chance at getting his life back.>Shit.
She lived on the same street as the one noted on the television screen. Right on the Miami-Dade/Broward County border. No way in hell was that a coincidence. To hell with objectivity and keeping his distance. Someone was gunning for Rachel. His Rachel.
He slapped down the wallet and charged toward the bathroom door.
***
Rachel tipped her face into the stinging spray, needing to melt away the hellish tension from carrying around the burden of what she knew. Finally, she had someone who was willing to listen to her, to help her. And not just anyone.
Liam.
Her skin tingled with a heat beyond anything coming out of the showerhead. The bathroom steam was so thick it almost muted the avocado green tile of the outdated bathroom. Rivulets streaked down the brown striped shower curtain. Everywhere around her, she confronted reminders of Liam, packing her brain with images of him standing in this shower.
The scent of his aftershave clung to the air. Reminders of Liam greeted her eyes no matter which way she turned—his shaving gel, razor, shampoo, and sport body wash. The space was as clean as the rest of the neatly kept house.
A crack of thunder split the air, startling her. Maybe she should have just stood out in the rain and let it wash her clean. She’d certainly done so in the past on SAR missions—rain, storms, waterfalls.
Thunder pounded again. Louder. So close it sounded nearly on top of her. She shrieked in surprise before she could finish registering it was only someone knocking.
Knocking mighty hard.
“Liam?” she called out as the door exploded open.
His broad shoulders filled the door, his dark blond hair backlit by illumination from the hall. “Are you okay? You screamed.”
She yanked the shower curtain to her body and said again, “Liam!”
Disco head-butted the back of Liam’s leg, whining. He moved deeper into the bathroom.
Her hands fisted around the brown vinyl curtain. “I screamed because you scared the crap out of me.”