Code Name: Baby (13 page)

So much for that line of distraction. Her purse was still vibrating, and she wondered how this particular scenario would look in that little automated bunny commercial.

Be cool,
she told herself.
Don't let him get under your skin.

A moving van pulled out in front of her, passing on the left. But the driver misjudged the speed of the oncoming cars, and he wasn't going to make it back into the lane without causing a three-car pileup.

Kit hit the brakes and pulled onto the shoulder, her sharp maneuver making the dogs topple in a row. “Stupid driver.” She shoved the car into neutral, then swung around to look at the dogs. “Are you okay back there?”

Baby's tail thumped. Butch yawned. Sundance made a quick lunge for Baby's chew toy, but was rebuffed.

Apparently all was normal.

Wolfe leaned over to brush a strand of hair out of her eyes as wind gusted through her window. “You can't drive with this in your face.”

With her emotions still jangled from the near accident, Kit shoved his hand away. “Are you saying that I messed up?”

“No, that's not what I'm saying. You did exactly what needed to be done. That was excellent driving.”

She wished he'd said something awful. Anger would have bolstered her resistance. Instead, it required a huge dose of willpower to keep her hands from sliding up around his neck, the way she'd wanted to do since she was thirteen.

Very bad idea.

Wolfe had had women chasing him since before he was old enough to drive. By the time he'd left, he'd become very, very good at sex, if even half the stories she'd heard were true. He was strictly out of
her
league. There would be nothing casual about sex with Wolfe Houston, and Kit was going to make
casual
her new mantra.

Just as soon as her stomach stopped churning.

Baby made a little sound in the back seat and sneezed.

“Let's go.” Kit checked the rearview mirror, ready to turn back onto the road. “I've got two stops to make before the stores close. After that I'll drive you back to your car.”

Then he was on his own.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Baby drop an old blue towel onto Wolfe's lap. “Baby?” She lunged sideways. “Baby,
wait.
”

Too late.

The puppy whimpered and threw up all over Wolfe.

H
E
'
D SURE AS HELL
had better days.

Wryly Wolfe surveyed the mess in his lap. He'd barely caught up with Kit at the gas station in time to grab her keys. Then the moron in the truck had nearly run them off the road. As a precaution he'd memorized the plate number, but his instinct told him it was a coincidence. He doubted Cruz could have tracked them down so fast and without Wolfe picking up any trace of his energy.

He felt something warm on his leg and looked down at Baby's limp body. The spunky little Lab wasn't having such a good day either.

Dog vomit wasn't high on Wolfe's list of favorite things. On the other hand, he'd had to wade through a whole lot worse, including several sewers that he didn't like remembering.

Kit was pulling tissues from a carton under her seat. “Poor Baby. She gets carsick. All the dogs do, but Baby is the worst.”

“Anything I can do for her?”

“She'll be fine.” With one hand soothing Baby, Kit picked up the towel from Wolfe's lap and shoved it into a plastic bag. Then she leaned down and dabbed at the wet spots on his legs. Her smooth movements told him that she had done this before.

But when she bent closer, blotting a stain just below his belt, Wolfe stopped thinking about dogs.

And started to think about Kit.

Naked in his bed. With her hands all over him, her full mouth sliding across his chest, and then down—

“What's wrong?”

“Wrong?” His voice was rough.

“You look weird.” She was biting her lip, working it between her teeth, and the sight made heat tunnel straight to his groin.

“Sorry about the dog vomit. I know it's disgusting. Well, not to me, because after a while you actually get used to dogs throwing up. But to you it must be disgusting.” She attacked another spot, in the process smoothing her palm over his thigh.

Wolfe's eyes closed. Agony set in.

“Don't worry, I'm almost done. Everything will be fine.”

Abruptly her hands opened on his zipper, and Wolfe was a hundred percent certain that nothing would ever be fine again. Ryker's tattooed blond threat was nothing compared to Kit's provocative innocence.

He gripped her wrists and held them still. “You can stop now.”

She stared at him, wide-eyed. “Why?”

She truly didn't have a clue, he realized. “I'll take care of the mess myself.” He shifted, trying to get comfortable. “I've got clean clothes in my bag. Is there someplace I can change?”

She finished wiping her hands on a paper towel. “My next stop is the grocery, and they have a bathroom. After that, we hit Pet Land.”

“Fine with me.”

As she checked traffic, Kit frowned. “Baby usually gives more warning, but she's been jumpy about something for the last few days. All the dogs are acting odd.”

“Odd how?” Wolfe gave up trying to dry his pants. He was far more interested in what Kit had just said.

“Anxious, mostly. Or restless, as if they were waiting for something. Sometimes they stop eating and stare up into the mountains like they know something's out there.”

They could have been sensing
him,
Wolfe thought. Or was it Cruz? If anyone could find the rogue agent, it would be these special dogs. Was that the next task on Ryker's agenda?

Kit pulled into a crowded parking lot and found the first available space. “I'll stay here with the dogs while you go in.”

“Here.” Wolfe stared at the football-field-size store and rubbed his jaw slowly. “You mean inside?”

“You said you wanted to change your clothes. After you're finished, maybe you'll watch the dogs while I go pick up some things for Miki.”

He hadn't been to a shopping mall in six years. He wasn't used to crowds unless they were trying to escape a war zone. Ironically, that seemed to be fairly close to the case here.

A man with two screaming children stalked past, his cart filled to overflowing with cereals that Wolfe had never heard of. A few lanes over half a dozen teenage boys with pierced noses and purple hair were arguing with half a dozen teenage girls with pierced noses and blue hair. Cars circled and crept down one row and up another, jockeying for any available parking spaces.

Wolfe rubbed his neck, aware of how alien the normal working world had become for him. “I can change out here and keep an eye on the dogs at the same time. You go ahead and run your errands.”

“Are you sure? Baby should be fine. She usually recovers fast.” Kit shook her head when she saw the puppy in question perched behind the front seat, her nose nearly touching Wolfe's shoulder.

“Don't worry,” he said calmly. “I'm pretty good with animals, trust me.”

“I don't know. They may whine when I leave.” Kit opened her door slowly.

None of the dogs paid the slightest attention. Butch nudged past Baby, then raised his head to lick Wolfe's chin.

Shaking her head, she grabbed her purse. “Or not.”

 

T
HE
J
EEP WAS EMPTY
when Kit returned fifteen minutes later.

At least it looked empty. When she turned the corner, she saw that the rear door was open and the dogs were lined up in a row, all panting, their heads hanging out the back.

Wolfe was squeezed in between them, looking completely content as he scratched Baby's head with one hand and Butch's stomach with the other. He also appeared to be scanning the parking lot.

She held up a shopping bag. “All done. Next stop, Pet Land.” She noticed that Wolfe was wearing a clean shirt and pants. “You managed to change, I see. I'm impressed. But I still can't believe how quickly the dogs have taken to you. No barking, not even a growl or two. They've
never
done that before.”

Wolfe reached down and scratched Sundance under the chin. Not wanting to be left out, Baby squeezed in closer for her share of the petting. “We got along just fine, didn't we, guys?”

No kidding. He
was
good with animals, Kit thought. In a minute she'd have to remind them she was here.

“What's this other store like?”

“Pet Land is the best place in the world to buy anything for your pet. Even though it's thirty minutes away, it's worth the drive.” She frowned at the oncoming traffic. “Unfortunately, it's Friday night.”

“What's wrong with Friday?”

“Everyone's out. Brace yourself. It's going to be a war zone in there.”

 

W
OLFE THOUGHT
she was using a figure of speech.

War as noisy, gleaming spectacle.

War as smoke and adrenaline. Civilians did it all the time, he thought grimly. Their assumptions about combat usually came from the latest hit movie or eight-minute CNN interview. But the fact was, you couldn't understand combat unless you'd been there, cordite burning acrid in your throat, every nerve juiced by fear while you went deaf from shoulder-fired antitank grenade launchers blazing all around you.

What could Kit know about war zones?

Then she took a corner and he counted about two hundred dusty pickup trucks and gleaming new Volvos jammed side-by-side in the crowded parking lot, with more cars overflowing onto the nearby side streets. There were kids crying and parents shouting and dogs barking.

Maybe there was something to this analogy of hers.

At first he'd tried to talk her out of the errand, but Baby needed a new training leash and Kit wanted a special chew toy to cheer Diesel up when he came home from the clinic.

More trucks pulled up, music blaring. A car drove along the row, bouncing up and down in time to the music.

Houston, you've been out of things here at home for way too long.

“I need to take Baby inside with me to make sure her leash fits properly. Dogs on leashes are allowed in the store, so you could bring the other dogs in, too.”

He rubbed his neck. “I think we'll sit this dance out.”

“Are you sure?” She snapped a leash on Baby and opened the door. “You look a little pale.”

Wolfe watched a poodle in white booties and a rhinestone jacket that spelled out
Elvis.
His owner was dressed in matching attire.

If the sensory overload hadn't been so noticeable, the whole scene would have been amusing. As things were, it was going to be a long night.

 

T
WENTY MINUTES LATER
Butch and Sundance were walking restless circles in the back of the Jeep, and at every pass they stopped to nudge Wolfe's arm. Dogs of all shapes and colors had come and gone, but there was still no sign of Kit and Baby.

As Wolfe sat warily, trying to decide whether to take the other dogs inside, Butch barked once and dug beneath a pile of blankets in the back of the Jeep. He emerged with a leash, which he dropped on Wolfe's lap. Seconds later Sundance dropped a matching leash beside the first one.

“Two to one, guys. No fair doubling up on me.”

Butch looked out the back window of the Jeep, then barked sharply. He picked up the leash and shook it hard, his eyes like laser sights. On instinct, Wolfe focused, trying to read the source of the dog's anxiety.

The minutes stretched out. He didn't move, staring at Butch, waiting.

Nothing came across. Not one speck.

Which was a little odd. Wolfe could usually pick up at least a few stray images here and there when he scanned the people around him. On the other hand, none of the team had ever worked specifically with animals, so the result didn't entirely surprise him.

After another quick scan of the parking lot, he gave in. “Okay, you two win. Let's roll. Tight formation.” He snapped on the leashes and checked to see if anyone paid undue attention to him or to the dogs. Satisfied that everything was normal, he locked the car and looked down at his excited companions. “Brace for contact, troops. This could get nasty.”

Especially if there were any other Elvis impersonators in the area.

Shopping carts were backed up by the dozens as irritated pet owners argued over flea powder and kibble.
Zoo
was definitely an understatement.

Where the heck were Kit and Baby?

Wolfe looked around at the flashing lights while music blasted from the big front doors. Shrill announcements spit like gunfire from a tinny loudspeaker. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen a store so big. Even standing outside the entrance and looking in put his senses on overdrive. He could face Stinger missiles and AK-47s, but the chaos of Pet Land figured nowhere in his field training.

Ignoring a beagle wearing a red baseball cap, he wiped a bead of sweat off his neck. “I can do this. What's so frightening about a bunch of crazy pet owners and a whole lot of noise?”

Butch barked once, staring out into the parking lot. When Wolfe followed the direction of the dog's gaze, he saw nothing but a sea of cars. Then Sundance moved closer, pressed against his opposite leg and growled.

Wolfe pulled out his secure cell phone and punched in two numbers.

Izzy Teague answered on the first ring. “Joe's Flower Shop. Roses to go.”

“Very funny, Teague. I'm at Pet Land with the dogs.”

“Say again?”

“Pet Land, you heard me. Kit's inside with Baby, and I've got the other dogs leashed here at the door. But they're acting odd, very restless about something. I need you to check out the parking lot without calling any attention to yourself.”

“No problem. I can do low profile or high profile.”

“Definitely low.”

“On my way.”

A motion caught Wolfe's eye. “Take some pictures, too. We may turn up that missing car belonging to the waitress.”

“Afraid not. It was found abandoned off the freeway outside Albuquerque.”

Wolfe ran a hand slowly along Sundance's back. The puppy was motionless, staring down a row crowded with cars. “I'm taking the dogs inside. I can guarantee you that someone's out here. Focus on the fifth row with the green Subaru.”

“I'm on it. Watch your six.”

As he walked inside the crowded store, Wolfe fought an odd compulsion to turn and stare back into the parking lot. The urge came from nowhere, sudden and brutal in its intensity. He was instantly certain it was Cruz, probing his defenses and preparing for an attack.

Either his ex-team leader's original skills had grown exponentially or the government had been developing some new techniques with Cruz. Either way, the situation spelled danger.

Inside the front door, a man cut Wolfe off with a cart, and a German Shepherd nearly peed on his foot while his owner laughed.

Not good for the first twenty seconds.