Parked deep in the driveway of an empty house for sale, he could see Cat’s home, most of it anyway. Definitely the front access. His hand fell to rest on his Australian shepherd mutt, threading through the fur.
He kept the windows open on his truck so Harley stayed cool and he could listen for anything out of the ordinary at Cat’s. Reaching behind him, he tugged a gallon jug of water over and leaned down to fill the bowl on the floorboards for Harley.
If he could just get in touch with Rachel. He’d heard her cell phone messages asking where he was, warning him to be careful, then nothing more. He pulled out his phone and thought about turning it back on. But that paranoia set in again. If someone was tracking his cell, he didn’t want to draw attention to his locale. Especially this close to Cat’s.>And he intended to make sure she lived a damn long time so she could take back her life.
“Uh, Rachel…” He glanced over his shoulder, more than a little uncomfortable with the way the older couple was openly staring at them on their way to their twenty-year-old Caddy. “Do you think we could feed the dog in the Jeep?”
Although how in the hell they were going to fit two dogs in with all the gear was a mystery to him. He needed a bigger car.
Or less baggage.
Rachel glanced up. “There’s still plenty of food left in the paper sack. We have supper, like you asked.”
“And I’m assuming we also have another dog.” Crouching on one knee, he glanced at the collar. “No name. So, it’s up to us to pick, and I choose to name him Fang.” He stood, knees groaning. “Come on, Fang. Be nice to Disco if you want some of the dog chow in back.”
Rachel pushed to her feet, the leash clutched in her fist. “Fang’s a girl, you know.”
“The name stays. Let’s get out of here.”
“Fair enough.”
She placed the bag on the seat then shoved at least fifty pounds of puppy into the back of the Jeep. The pup whimpered as she watched her crappy prior owner drive away.
Rachel cursed softly. “Jackass took better care of his surfboard than he did his dog.”
Liam watched her hand curve around the big puppy. Rachel was fierce. Protective. Strong and soft all at once.
To hell with less baggage.
She was everything he’d ever wanted in a woman. He may have fallen in love easily in the past, but damned if he could remember ever falling this hard.
***
On the road again, Rachel opened the food bag on her lap and pulled out a po’ boy for Liam. Disco curled up at her feet. The boxer—Fang—had wedged herself in the small floor space behind Liam, her wide brandy brown eyes never leaving Rachel.
She passed Liam the sandwich warily. “Aren’t you going to chew me out for making a scene?”
“Nope.” He took the paper-wrapped meal from her hand without looking over at her.
He’d gone strangely quiet right after they named the dog. Did he regret taking Fang? Was he pissed off at her? After all he’d done for her, she couldn’t bear it that she’d upset him. Bad enough that she’d turned herself into more of a liability—and added another dog to their pack.
“Come on, Liam. You’re obviously upset. I can see why you’d be mad at me. I was anything but low profile, except I couldn’t just turn away—”
“Hey, stop. Really. I mean it when I say I’m not pissed, so don’t go trying to read what I’m thinking. You needed to let off steam and he needed his ass kicked. A lot less conspicuous than if the guy at the register had called the cops.”
The police. The fishy scents from the bag made her nauseous. “God, what if the cops had shown up anyway? What if the wrong people figured out where we are? What if somebody asks that older couple about us?”
“The cops didn’t come and we’re way off the radar.” He reached for his drink to wash down a bite.
She nibbled a French fry halfheartedly, her appetite fading. “I should have placed an anonymous call to animal services.”
“With our untraceable phone? Maybe. But even if you had, the chances of them finding the guy, much less being able to pursue anything after the fact, are slim.” He glanced over, his eyes… guarded, but not angry. “You should already know that. Didn’t you tell me once that your mom worked for animal control?”
“That’s right. I’m touched that you remember.” She’d heard her married friends complain more than once about being tuned out by the men in their lives.
“Of course I remember. You told me how you mother died working that job. That had to have been awful for you and your father.”
Rachel scratched at a rusty spot on the door. “My father and mother split when I was about eight. He moved to another state. I didn’t see much of him. I still don’t. My mom and I were… everything to each other.”