Authors: D. D. Ayres
Time was of the essence and every person there knew it. They had no assurances that they would find the explosive device before it detonated. But that was the job they trained for and were prepared to do. No matter the cost.
His heart beat heavy in his chest but Brad took long deliberate strides, pausing whenever Zander did to sniff a corner, or the leg of a display, or the edge of a drape. Zander moved swiftly but did not run. Hurry caused mistakes and accidents. And there was no room for error.
Finally, the golden Lab stopped short at the shallow carpeted steps leading to the Opera House.
“I think so, too,” Brad whispered as he bent to pat and reassure his partner. “Boots, is Frank an opera fan?”
“Yes. He has regular seats. Do you think—?”
Brad stopped listening. “Find me the seat number of Frank Keller’s Opera House season tickets.”
Moving together they climbed the shallow stairs, Zander’s nose high as he sifted the air for clues.
Guided by a sense that they could not fail, they began searching the back rows of the theater. Before they were done, two more K-9 teams joined them, taking on the rows on either side of the main aisle. Undeterred by the competition, Zander worked the rows until, suddenly, he barked, paused, sniffed hard around a seat, then jumped over it and the next one in front of it. Brad followed, jumping like a hurdler after his canine. Zander paused, sniffed lightly, stiffened, the ridge of hair on his body standing high. He sat, then dropped to his belly with head on paws.
Brad drew a careful breath. “We got a live one. Send in the bomb squad.”
“I’ve got the seat number,” a disembodied voice said in Brad’s ear.
“Roger that. So do we.”
Georgia didn’t bother to notice the pair crossing the bridge on the road overhead. She was engrossed in using a telephoto lens to record
red
in Rock Creek Park. The day was cool and gray, a reminder to those who like to boast that D.C. was a Southern city that winter still had a say here. The first chill of things to come pinked her ears as the middle of November settled in.
Georgie wore a hoodie over well-worn jeans and a Henley. Beneath the soles of her booties, pebbles rolled and skipped as she made her way along the creek bed in a secluded section of the park casual visitors seldom saw. A few maples still clung tenaciously to their final deep-mahogany-red leaves. In the underbrush waxy red pyracantha berries winked at her. Near the waterline of the narrow creek a cardinal plucked orange berries from a bush. Close enough.
Click and move. Click and move.
She worked her way over several big, flat, gray stones to the other side of the bank, hardly bothering to check where her feet went. The camera was an extension of herself, bringing the world up close yet holding it in reserve, a vantage point never more precious to her than in the past five months.
Frank was gone, having never fully recovered after a series of grand mal seizures that left him unable to speak. Perhaps it was better that way. There was no way to completely explain what he had done, even if illness was at the root of it.
The resulting publicity from her part in the investigation had left her feeling as if she’d been caught in a firestorm. After the first few days, she had no protective skin left. But that didn’t stop the onslaught. Days turned into weeks filled with federal inquiries and more testimony to give. Finally, after nearly a month, she had been allowed to leave town. She had retreated to her parents’ home in Tennessee to wait for the media circus to die down.
She worked as a stringer for AP in her home state. But after two months she realized she missed the faster pace of D.C. More than that, she missed the independence of her life with her own place in the world. Even if that meant facing up to the reality that Brad had disappeared, for the second time, from her life.
Brad hadn’t made personal contact since the day of the foiled bombing. Her attorneys, and the FBI, had made it clear that in order to keep her testimony untainted, she had to break off all contact with anyone else involved in the investigation. She knew it was the right thing to do. But still, not seeing him a final time left her with the restless, incomplete sensation of reading a book only to discover there was no final chapter.
Now she was back in D.C., doing her job. Ignoring the questioning glances, and her own regrets. Isolated, contained, she was trying to reestablish her life.
“You come here often?”
Georgie lowered her camera at the sound of a voice she hadn’t heard in months.
Brad and Zander stood before her on the gravel path that led from the road down to the creek.
She blinked to adjust her eyes to a more natural up-close and personal view of the world. “Hi.”
“Hi.” He was smiling but his gaze was unfathomable, as if he didn’t know what sort of reception to expect. “I stayed away as long as I could.”
She smiled at him. “It was too long.”
He smiled then, a quicksilver slide of warmth that went through her like a hot flash. Just like that, the world righted itself.
He opened an arm and she moved in next to his body as he hugged her shoulders. He felt good, he smelled better.
Impatient to check out the hundreds of new scents on the wind, Zander tugged at his leash. Brad unhooked him and then the pair followed more leisurely after his canine.
They walked on in silence for a few minutes.
“I’m not over it, you know. I’m trying but I can’t let it go.”
Brad didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he paused and turned her in his arms to face him. “You’re loyal and stand up for what you believe. I admire that in you more than you know. You did all you could for a sick and deluded friend. Time to think about yourself.”
Georgie slipped a hand around his waist, beneath his jacket. “You never called. I thought we were over.”
He leaned over and kissed her hair. “I thought I made it clear. We had to wait.”
“That was after you left me in my panties.”
He shook his head. “Maybe we owe each other something like a real beginning.”
“Maybe we do.”
They had paused at the edge of the creek bed where Zander was barking and splashing, chasing imaginary prey. It seemed the perfect place for a kiss.
When they broke apart, there was more than a promise of a beginning in Brad’s gaze. There was joy, and good times, and lust. “Before we go any further, I need to know how serious you are about a relationship. For instance, have you been taking any nudie pictures lately?”
Georgie grinned. “Why?”
“Because I’ve been spending a lot of time in the gym these last months working off excess energy.”
“So you think you’re pretty buff, huh?”
“I’d be more than willing to show you a few things.”
Georgie laughed and bent over, using both hands to pet Zander, who had come barging in between them at knee level. He was happy and slobbering, and wet from the belly down. “Uh-oh, doggie breath.”
“Love me, love my dog.”
Georgie slanted a glance up at Brad. “How about I love you? But I want dinner first.”
“Does that mean you’ll let me take my clothes off for you?”
“It means I’m hungry.”
“Me, too.” He leaned down to catch her expression. “We are talking about the same thing?”
Georgie grabbed her camera and held it as if weighing it. “If I were thinking strictly about myself, I’d been thinking something really quite shocking.”
Brad grinned. “Try me.”
She turned her head. “You see that big flat rock over there in the middle of the creek?”
Brad looked at it, eyes narrowing. “It’s forty-seven degrees.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’m a federal agent. Do you know what kind of scandal it would cause if I was caught posing in public?”
“Uh-huh.”
He grinned at her. “Only for you.”
No one saw the nude man posing with his dog on the huge boulder in the middle of the creek. Or, if they did, they kept the sexy secret to themselves in order to enjoy the gorgeously toned physique of a man who frankly had a lot to be proud of.
Too bad he only had eyes for the woman photographing him.
If you enjoyed Brad and Georgie’s romance, read James and Shay’s story next!
Irresistible Force
D. D. Ayres’s first full-length novel in the K-9 Rescue series
Coming August 26, 2014
Read on for a special preview!
For Shay Appleton, it’s love at first sight when a gorgeous stray dog is brought into the animal shelter where she works. She just knows he’ll make a terrific watchdog—and with an abusive ex who won’t let go, she needs all the protection she can get. But Shay never suspected that her new pet is actually a trained police K-9 named Bogart—until Bogart’s even more gorgeous human partner shows up on her doorstep.
Officer James Cannon is one tall, strong alpha male who’s convinced that Shay stole his dog. But once he gets closer to the suspect, he realizes that this stubborn, independent woman not only needs a guard dog, she needs James as well. It seems that someone from her past is stalking her and threatening her life. When danger meets desire, will James risk his career and his best friend…to protect the woman who’s stolen his heart?
Surveillance was simpler in the South in autumn. It was hunting season in North Carolina. A man dressed in camouflage and carrying a rifle in the woods didn’t rate a second glance. The thick canopy of summer had yielded a blanket of damp leaves that made soft whispery sounds underfoot. Sparse branches improved viewing range, even in the darkness. Forecasters had predicted that by dawn, the frost would give way to the promise of an Indian summer day.
It was just the sort of weather James Cannon enjoyed on his day off from the Charlotte-Mecklenburg Police Department. However, tonight he was on the job, alone in an unfamiliar area, and closing in on what might be a desperate character.
James’s alertness level ratcheted up as he came to the edge of the woods he had been passing through. The absence of Bogart gnawed at his focus. They were always on duty together, until a month ago. That’s because James’s law enforcement partner had been kidnapped. The cabin in the clearing just ahead was the purported location where he was being held.
Ever since his partner had been taken, he’d spent a hellish amount of time tracking down useless leads. He’d been afraid, as the days stretched out, that Bogart was dead.
He jerked his thoughts back from that murky water-under-the-bridge reality to the present. Now he had his first good lead, and it led him here.
He slowed as he reached the clearing. The cabin stood alone and dark in the distance. He’d been told that the woman who rented it lived alone. But he never relied on hearsay when it counted. Two years in the military police plus four years on the job made him cautious. He needed facts. He’d come here, in the wee hours, to check things out for himself.
He eased down into a crouched position to survey the terrain. Almost immediately, something at the edge of his vision caught his eye. It was the absolute stillness of an object amidst the natural stirrings of a rural night. He turned his head to discover he wasn’t the only one doing surveillance on the property.
Fifty feet away, a truck sat in the deep shadows at the edge of the tree line on the unpaved track that ran through the forest. Had James not been on foot, he and the driver might have met in the woods.
James rose and moved in a little closer to try to get a better look at the vehicle to determine if it was occupied. It was. A man in dark clothing, unlike James’s hunting gear, sat behind the wheel.
Something about the furtiveness of his actions, the way he just sat with headlights and engine off, increased James’s suspicion that something illegal was going on here. He wondered if the driver was standing guard. Or, perhaps, waiting for someone?
Even as he pondered his options, a light flared drawing his attention back to the cabin.
A woman had stepped out of the cabin onto the porch. She didn’t bother to turn on the porch light, nor did she carry a flashlight. She was simply a slight figure in silhouette for the instant she was backlit by the open doorway. Then a dark furry animal shot past her out the door. The dog was moving at full throttle, coming straight toward the woods, and James.
One bark was all it took to confirm the silhouette. James’s heart squeezed tight and though he would have denied it to his own mother he had to blink away the threat of a watery leak in his left eye.
It was Bogart! He was unharmed! He was in good voice. Recovering his partner was going to be easier than he’d ever thought possible.
James stood to call the dog to him but the sound was lost when the truck’s engine suddenly roared to life. Headlights caught Bogart in their full flare but the dog did not hesitate. He was after the truck and his barking increased, signaling that he had found his prey.
“Prince! No! Come here!” The plaintive cry of the woman who’d been on the porch switched James’s focus. She’d left the porch and was running toward the woods. “Come, Prince! Heel! Heel, boy!”
The dog paused uncertainly and turned to look back at the woman just as she entered the circle of the truck’s headlights. She was dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie but her feet were bare.
“Heel! Heel, Prince!” Her voice was strained with emotion as she bent down to scoop up something.
Even as the driver threw the truck into reverse and floored the pedal, she stood up.
“Bastard!” She launched what must have been a rock or a heavy piece of a tree limb at her Peeping Tom.
James couldn’t help but admire her strength and aim. The missile bounced off the hood of the truck even as it blasted backwards.
“Heel! Heel, Prince!” She began running back toward the cabin.
This time Bogart didn’t hesitate, he sprang after her, easily catching up and circling her with excited barks as she made her way to the porch. The pair was through the door in an instant, and then it was shut behind them with a force that reverberated through the night.
“What the fuck?” James sat back on his haunches as the sounds of the truck tearing back through the forest became ever fainter, and let his thoughts sort themselves out. First things first.