The Edge of Courage (Red Team) (15 page)

The walkie-talkie. A long, relieved breath eased out of his tight lungs, until he realized something had to be wrong up at the house. He grabbed the yellow plastic device. “Go ahead.” He was out of his chair and jamming his feet into his boots as Mandy’s whispered response rushed into the room.

“Someone’s in my house.”

He grabbed his shotgun, then ran out the door, glad he’d slept in his clothes. “Where are you?”

“In my room.”

“Is the front door unlocked?”

“It is now.”

“Lock your bedroom door. Don’t come out until I tell you it’s safe.” He clipped the walkie-talkie to his waistband and reached her porch in record time. On the porch, he eased the front door open, shotgun at the ready. He made a visual sweep of the living room, then turned down the hall leading to the master bedroom. He moved silently through the dark, a shadow in a house of shadows, all his senses engaged. This danger he knew. It was comfortable. Search and kill. He checked the bedrooms, their closets, the bathroom. All was clear. He knocked on the master bedroom door. “You okay?”

Mandy ripped the door open. There was enough moonlight to see her pale, tense face, her enormous eyes. She nodded.

“What did you hear?”

“There was banging somewhere out there. Someone, something was walking around. The floors creaked. I know I heard something.”

Rocco nodded. “Stay here. Lock your door. I’ll check out the rest of the house.”

“No way. I’m coming with you.”

He frowned down at her, but didn’t want to waste time arguing. It was probably a raccoon or something that had climbed in through a window. “Stay behind me, then.” Two cold hands slipped between his back and waistband as she gripped his pants and leaned close to his back. She peeked around his shoulder, stepping in the shadow of his steps. They moved down the hall as tightly as sack racers in slow motion.

Her arms wrapped around his waist, and she buried her face in the middle of his back as they went through the dining room, the kitchen dinette area, the galley, across the hallway to the laundry room, a storeroom, and at last, to the back door. It was closed and firmly locked.

“Nothing. Let’s go downstairs.” He reached a hand behind him, needing distance between them to take the stairs safely. She threaded her fingers with his. He moved slowly, in no hurry to lose this time with her. They’d barely talked for the last few days. She’d been sending him supper on a tray. God, he’d missed her.

They moved through the rooms downstairs. Three bedrooms, a bathroom, a utility room, a storeroom, and a large, open rec room. It was a big house for one small girl. Did its emptiness haunt her? She’d probably dreamed the noise. Or perhaps one of the cottonwoods towering over the house had dropped a branch.

They made their way back upstairs. At the top of the steps, he pulled her in front of him into a light hug. She was ice cold. He rubbed her arm. “There’s nothing here, babe. The house is clear.”

“I know what I heard, Rocco.”

“Tomorrow, I’ll take a look around the house and see if maybe something fell on the roof.”

“It wasn’t the roof. It was by the kitchen. In the hallway. It was coming toward my room.” She stood next to him, so closely that they touched from calves to shoulder. He glanced around at the shadowy living room. Nothing was out of place. He didn’t know what she’d heard before, but there wasn’t anything suspicious now.

He looked down at her, seeing the tension in her face. “Want me to stay here tonight?” he asked before realizing what it sounded like he was suggesting. “I mean, not with you, but here. In the living room. Alone.”

Before Mandy could answer him, they heard a bang in the hallway by the kitchen. Her hand tightened on his. “See? That’s what I heard!” she hissed.

There was a clattering of items from the kitchen, then the sound of nails skittering across the wood floor as an animal rushed toward the backdoor. A low growl set the hairs at Rocco’s neck on edge. He flipped on the light switch in time to see a gray animal push out through a small access flap in the back door.

Rocco cursed. “You’ve got a coyote coming in.”

Mandy slipped free of her death grip on Rocco’s back. “I don’t think that was a coyote. It was too small, and it had no tail.” She flipped the outside light on and jerked open the door. Two dogs stood a few yards from the last step, a little one and a big one. The little one was standing guard. It growled when it saw them.

Rocco had seen plenty of pariah dogs in the Middle East. Often, they were vicious predators, always hungry, always hunting. “Go back inside, Em. You don’t need wild dogs stalking the ranch. I’ll take care of them.” He stepped in front of her.

“Wait! Rocco, they’re just strays. They’re hungry and lost.”

He pushed her toward the door. “There could be a whole goddamned pack. Get back inside.”

“Rocco. Stop. You’re not going to shoot them. They belong to someone. You can’t kill them.”

She slipped out of his grip and moved down the back steps slowly, eyeing the ghostly forms of the dogs in the distance. She sat on the bottom step and called to them in a friendly voice. Neither came to her. The larger one was eating something. She walked toward it slowly, talking in a cheerful voice. When she was about six feet from them, she knelt down and patted her thighs, calling the strays over. The little one, a Blue Heeler, stood stiff and growled. The larger one, a Golden Retriever, wagged his tail but didn’t look up from the sleeve of bread he was munching. Both of them were reed thin.

Mandy talked to them for a while as the Golden fed on the stolen bread. “Look at you, you little fierce thing. You stole food for your friend,” she said to the Heeler. “You can’t be all bad. Come in the house. I’ll cook some rice and eggs for you.”

That must have sounded appetizing to the Golden, for he gave the empty bread bag a last swipe with his paw, then came over and nuzzled Mandy. She laughed, and stroked him, feeling for injuries. The Blue Heeler sniffed the breadcrumbs, then came over, keeping a safe distance from Mandy. She reached a hand toward him, but he shied away.

She slowly came to her feet, then picked up the remains of the bread bag, chattering with them to follow her inside. The Golden stayed close to her, but the Heeler was hesitant. At the steps, the big dog took a step and cried out.

“Rocco! He’s hurt! Please, carry him inside. I need to look at him.”

He made a face but did as she requested. Shouldering his shotgun, he gently lifted the old dog. Seeing Rocco up close, the little Blue Heeler ran fast for the shadows behind the house.

“Take him to the kitchen,” Mandy directed. Rocco set the beast on the floor near the table. He ran his hands over his back, his belly, his legs.

“Nothing broken. Just some minor scrapes. And he’s malnourished as hell. They’re lucky the coyotes didn’t get them.”

Mandy set a bowl of water near the dog, then busied herself mixing up a batch of scrambled eggs and a big pot of rice.

“What are you going to do with them?” Rocco asked, watching her work.

“Someone must be worried sick about them. I don’t see any tags on this one. I wonder if he has a microchip. I guess I’ll take him into the vet in town tomorrow. Get him checked out. Hopefully, I can catch the other one too.”

Just then, there was a noise at the back door. Mandy grinned at Rocco, now recognizing that sound. “I knew his buddy would be back.” The other stray fussed at the door a bit more, then came inside. Mandy didn’t look at him, forcing her attention on the food she was preparing. He walked around the house once, then sniffed at Rocco and checked on his friend. Apparently satisfied, he went back around to the other kitchen entrance and sat in the hallway watching Mandy. When the eggs were ready and cool enough to eat, Mandy put two bowls on the floor. One near the old retriever, one a short distance away for the other dog. She kept the rice for their breakfast.

She walked over to Rocco, ignoring the dogs while they ate—though all of her senses were keyed in on them. Eventually, she became aware of the fact that she and Rocco leaned against opposite sides of the kitchen entrance. His arms were folded across his bare chest as he watched her with a frown.

“How is it that we all seem to find you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Abused horses, disabled children, starving dogs, broken men.”

She wanted to step into his arms, to feel them wrapped around her. To listen to his heartbeat. The look he was giving her said he would welcome it as well. But she was the one who had put the brakes on. And really, the situation between them hadn’t changed. She didn’t know enough about him to be intimate with him. If they were going to have a relationship, they’d have to move more slowly than they’d started out.

Her eyes watered. “I want the world to be perfect and everyone in it to be healthy and happy.”

He shook his head. One step brought him to her. He cupped the back of her head and kissed her forehead. “It never will be, honey. But people like you make it a whole lot better.” He stepped back. “You okay with these mutts tonight?”

She nodded. “Thanks for rescuing me. Come up for coffee tomorrow morning. Maybe I’ll cook some eggs for you, too.”

He grinned. “Lock the kitchen door behind me,” he said as he went to check the locks on both the back and front doors. “Tomorrow I’ll look at the doggie door, see if I can cut a scrap of wood to cover it.” He took up his shotgun and slipped out into the night, waiting by the kitchen door until he heard her lock it.

* * *

By the time he went up to the main house for breakfast the next morning, he’d done a three-mile run and had made a circuit of the ranch. All looked quiet. Things had settled down since his arrival. Perhaps it had been a prankster making mischief for Mandy. But why? He didn’t like questions he couldn’t answer.

The kitchen door was open. Two dogs stood at the screen door, both barking viciously at his arrival. Mandy shushed them and called for him to come in. She was cooking up a feast. The room smelled of coffee, hash browns, bacon, eggs and cinnamon rolls. He realized how hungry he was.

She brought the last platter to the table, sending him a welcoming smile that stole his breath. Her hair was braided, and the golden-red rope hung in front of her shoulder. She wore jeans and a long-sleeved, plaid shirt opened in the front to reveal a white tank top. An apron covered most of the front of her, but he’d seen her sweet, round ass when she was at the stove.

“Morning,” she greeted him.

His mouth was suddenly, strangely dry, his tongue stuck to his teeth. He was barely able to nod at her. She poured him a cup of strong, black coffee and handed it to him.

“Hungry?”

His gaze moved over her mouth and chin, to the patch of skin between her open collar and the tank, to the ripe swell of her breasts and her tiny waist. He forced himself to look at her eyes. “Starved.”

She smiled. “Then sit, before it gets cold.”

“How did the mutts do last night?”

“Fine. I made a pallet for them to sleep on, but in the middle of the night, they were both up on the bed with me.”

“After breakfast, we can take them into town to be checked out. If they were chipped, their owners can be contacted.”

“That’s what I’m hoping,” she said without conviction.

“You want to keep them.”

Mandy sighed. “I do. My grandparents always had dogs. I’ve been too busy to take one on. But Yeller and Blue are so sweet together. They need me. I think I’m settled enough to handle them now.”

“Yeller and Blue?” he asked, wondering where she got those names.

She rubbed the Golden Retriever. “Yeller because he was too scared to come into the house and steal his own food.” She reached over and patted the little tan and gray-spotted dog. “And Blue because he’s a Blue Heeler.”

“Don’t get too attached yet,” Rocco warned. “If it can’t be these two, then we’ll find one from the shelter. There’s no shortage of dogs needing homes.”

Mandy smiled at him, her eyes filled with a warmth he had to be misinterpreting. She was happy at the thought of adopting dogs, not that he’d said he’d help her adopt them.

A short while later, they’d rigged up leashes and were loading the dogs into Mandy’s SUV when one of the construction workers hurried over to them. His face was tense. He pushed his hat back a bit and scratched at his forehead.

“Mandy? We got ourselves a situation.”

“What kind of situation?” Rocco asked the man.

“George is in the hospital.”

“Oh, no! Is he okay?” Mandy asked.

“They said he and his wife will make a full recovery. They’re suffering from carbon monoxide poisoning. His house was full of it. His wife was able to dial 9-1-1 before passing out. His dog died.”

“What happened?”

“Don’t rightly know. He had the detectors in his house, but they must have failed. And he’d had routine maintenance on his furnace not too long ago.” The man looked at Rocco. “Anyway, don’t know if we should keep working, with him offsite and all. What’s your call?”

Rocco glanced at Mandy then back at the construction worker. “You his second-in-command?”

“That I am. Name’s Tom Mason.” He held his hand out to Rocco, who looked at it a second, then took it in a brief clasp. He could feel Mandy’s surprise. Hell, he felt his own surprise.

“Then put yourself in charge and keep the crews going. I’m going to run into town with Mandy, but I’ll be back in a little while. If you need me, call me.” They exchanged phone numbers.

The man nodded before heading down the hill to the construction trailer. Rocco cautiously met Mandy’s stunned gaze. He grinned.

“You touched him. You shook hands.” Mandy was shocked.

“How about that? You said I could trust your eyes. Since you didn’t react or warn me, I figured the blood wouldn’t get on him. I didn’t even feel it move on my skin. Maybe it’s gone, Mandy.”

She jumped forward and wrapped her arms around him, burrowing her face in his neck with a triumphant laugh that filled him with a warm contentment. He pulled her in tighter, feeling every curve of her body against his. He buried his nose in her hair, loving the faint scent of jasmine that drifted about her.