Under Fire (Elite Force #3)(43)
Author: Catherine Mann

Could just be someone dropping off or picking up a pet. Except the dude got out of the truck and—no dog. Catriona met him at the gate, no dog with her either.

Someone touring the place? Maybe. But still strange he hadn’t brought his pet along.

He profiled the guy. Military haircut. Lean but fit. Wearing what looked like some kind of festival T-shirt and running shorts. The back of his truck had a huge Gatorade dispenser.

So maybe the guy was a boyfriend. Just because he’d gotten vibes from Catriona that she was attracted to him didn’t mean squat. She could still have a boyfriend, or some guy who wanted to get to know her better.

Yeah, that fit better, because if she had a guy, there would have been signs.

Harley nudged him.

“Not now, girl.”

She head-butted him harder.

“Really, in a minute. I’m busy.”

She pawed him on the leg again and again.

“Okay, okay, you need to go out. All that water. Got it.” He turned to get her leash from the back.

And saw a silver sedan cruising down the street. Straight toward Catriona’s house. The guy riding shotgun had a shotgun. He pointed it through the open window, directly at Cat’s home.

Brandon whipped the truck into drive and nailed the gas. Tires squealing, he peeled out of the driveway, the nose of his truck aimed at the sedan.

***

Catriona’s breath whooshed from her lungs as she hit the ground. One quick gasp filled her mouth with sand.

Not all that surprising, since she’d been crushed to the ground by some guy she’d just met. A military guy named Jose James who’d said he was looking for Brandon a second before he’d body-slammed her to the gritty driveway.

Pops echoed. Like gunshots? Ohmigod, ohmigod, she gasped for breath, her chest going tighter.

A crash sounded, close, out on the road. Crunching metal and shattering glass. Then a bubble of silence.

Barking erupted in the aftermath. Dogs of all sizes charged and pawed at the fence, their frenzy deafening. Her senses went on overload trying to process so much at once.

Panic scratched at her nerves as tangibly as the sand and gravel under her cheek. Of course they were freaked out. So was she.

Desperate to see what was going on, she spit the sand out of her mouth. “What the hell are you doing? Get off me, please.”

“Hold still,” he warned against her ear.

“Really, I’m oka—”

Abruptly, he was off her as quickly as he’d flattened her.

She rolled to her back, then to her feet, and found not just the new guy but… Brandon running toward her?

Thank God he’d returned, because this stranger was seriously freaking her out. And oh God, Brandon’s truck was buried in the side of the silver sedan. There were two men in front, both sitting up and alert. Apparently unharmed. Engine revving, the car squealed into reverse, then forward, spewing smoke as it roared away.

Brandon tugged her arm, the familiar feel and scent of him soothing her fear.

The gun in his hand, however, she did not recognize.

“Cat, get back!” Brandon hauled her to her feet, his body between her and the men in the car.

Where were her neighbors? She scanned the street for someone, anyone. But either her two elderly neighbors had their hearing aids turned down or they were already calling the cops. Hopefully the latter. The rest of the houses were empty, either for sale or foreclosed. She should call the police, except her cell phone wasn’t clipped to her shorts anymore.

Brandon aimed the weapon at the departing silver sedan. He popped off shots, pocking the ground around the car, flattening one tire. The sedan didn’t even slow. The tire rim shot sparks behind it as the car peeled out around the corner.

And what about her dogs? Oh God, what if one of them had been hit by a stray bullet from the guy with a shotgun? She yanked free of Brandon and raced for the backyard. She heard curses flying from both men but didn’t stop to explain.

She shoved through the gate and into the backyard. The pack peeled away from the fence and circled around her. Frantically, she counted and inventoried, her heart pounding… Tabitha? Catriona dropped to her knees beside the massive Argentine Dogo to inspect the streak of red slashing across her white coat. Her training as a vet tech roared to the surface as she carefully examined what appeared to be a simple grazing. Thank God.

Brandon’s hand clamped her shoulder. She looked back to see him standing guardedly by Jose James. Who also had a frickin’ gun in his hand?

The two men scowled at each other, weapons gripped firmly.

Her heart hammered against her ribs and she wondered if she might need her old inhaler again. “Hey, fellas, can we all draw down now and maybe someone could tell me what’s going on? Why were the guys in that car shooting at me?”

Brandon’s big black gun didn’t waver from Jose. “What are you doing here?”

Catriona gripped his shirt to restrain him—as if she really even could. “That’s Jose James. He said he was from Patrick Air Force Base, and he was asking about you.”

Muscles flexed with tension under her hands. “Is that so, James?”

Jose pointed the muzzle of his weapon skyward, his hands up, nonthreatening. “I’m here for Rachel Flores. She would have come herself, but we needed to know if you were being watched. Good thing we checked, isn’t it? Now how about we step inside? While you’re taking care of the dog’s injury, we can talk.”

***

Liam sent the dogs ahead of them into the seedy motel room.

As much as he hated calling it quits for the day, they weren’t going to reach the cabin tonight. Traveling those Everglades waters in the dark would be dangerous enough on his own. But with Rachel along? Not wise. They could both use the sleep. With luck, he would hear something from Jose soon anyway.

Meanwhile, he needed to keep busy, recon the place, make contingency plans. Do anything other than think about the moment he’d seen her defend that puppy.

He had one mission tonight, keeping Rachel safe, and sadly, this place offered their best bet for flying under the radar.

“Sorry about the one-star rating on the accommodations.” He gave the dogs the freedom to sniff at the two saggy beds and cheap laminate furniture with a serious seventies vibe.

“No need to apologize.” She dropped her backpack on the chair closest to the door. “I understand that finding a place that accepts cash without requiring you to show a credit card as well limited our choices. At least there aren’t bugs.”

Or were there? Best to keep a light on tonight for more than one reason.