Home Is Where the Bark Is (17 page)

Still smiling, she answered the phone.

 

 

On
Monday afternoon, Nick drove with his business partner, Adam Shore, to Paws-A-While. Their mission: to retrieve that dog collar.

Nick did not have much to say to Adam. Rather, deep in a morose slump, he churned with the grab bag of emotions that had erupted after his discovery of that tiny, hidden camera.

Anger wrestled with disgust for having let himself get steamrollered by his suspect. He groaned inwardly when he remembered his lasagna-fired moments of never-going-to-happen domestic fantasy. Man, was he lucky to have found that camera. If he hadn’t, she would have completely suckered him.

Had his gut instinct deserted him? He had to hold on to the hope that it hadn’t. Because if it had, he knew he was finished in this business.

Training could only take an investigator so far. Instinct was as important. He had sensed something suspicious about Paws-A-While and decided to follow his nose. The police were pursuing more obvious leads—career con men, the Russian mafia, and so on. Instinct told him that the identity fraud was a local job.

But an unerring ability to read people—a skill he prided himself on—was what really counted. That was what ultimately solved the crimes and brought in the big jobs.

His career was doomed if he’d lost it.

He’d gone out on his own with Adam both for the freedom to make his own decisions and the flexibility of lifestyle. Not to mention the impulse to help people that had made him join the FBI in the first place. Nothing was going to stop him from making S&W Investigations a success. He could not let Serena’s beautiful face and air of vulnerability bring him down.

She appeared to be so genuine. But he had to remember she was a model. From his understanding, the good ones were as much actresses as clotheshorses. They pretended to be someone else for as long as it took to earn them the bucks.

Serena St. James was one of the best.

Somewhere in that tormented turmoil of his thoughts was a sliver of instinct-fuelled hope that still refused to believe Serena could be involved with the identity fraud. That there was another, more innocent explanation for the high incidence of fraud victims who kept their dogs at Paws-A-While.

But the evidence of a highly sophisticated piece of surveillance equipment was damning. Certainly in Adam’s eyes. That pinhole spy camera planted on a dog would give a scammer on the receiving end a good deal of information about its owner’s home and lifestyle.

Discovering who had planted it could be a real step forward in the investigation of the crime. And there was no escaping the fact the dog lived after-hours in Serena’s own home.

Up until now Adam had not shared Nick’s certainty about a link between the fraud and Paws-A-While. This was the first real clue, and Adam had pounced on it. His business partner was an electronics genius and he wanted his hands on Mack’s collar ASAP.

But could someone who operated her computer on such a low level of security as Serena have the IT smarts to employ such advanced technology? It didn’t compute.

And why did she have the collar on Mack when he wasn’t even her dog? Or his, yet, for that matter. Was it an opportunistic thing so she could pick up on anything of interest that might arise in Mack’s vicinity? Had she implanted one of those cameras in every single dog at Paws-A-While? If so, why hadn’t one of the owners noticed?

The conflicting thoughts continued to churn around in his brain until he could think of little else. The damn collar posed more questions than it answered.

A car horn blared. Damn. He slammed on the brakes to meet a red light.

Beside him in the passenger’s seat, Adam cursed. “Get your mind off Serena St. James and on the road before you kill us both.”

Nick didn’t even bother to deny that Serena and his misjudgment of her was all he could think about. “Yeah,” he mumbled.

“Concentrate, man. Just get us there in one piece. We have to get the dog on the pretext of taking him to the vet and then grab that collar.”

Nick paused. “It isn’t a pretext. We really are taking him to the vet.”

“What!” Adam cursed again. “Tell me I didn’t hear that.”

Nick risked taking his eyes off the road for long enough to scowl at his business partner. “I said I’d pay for Mack’s operation. I intend to hold to my promise.”

If he wasn’t feeling so grim, he’d have laughed at Adam’s splutter. “Are you crazy?”

“No. I’m not going to let the dog down.”

“And then?”

“I intend to adopt him.”

Adam cursed again. “Nick, you’ve let yourself get too involved with Serena St. James. I warned you—”

Nick grit his teeth. “This is about the dog, Adam. He’s in pain and I want to help him.”

“You’re going to shell out big bucks for a suspected criminal’s dog? A dog that might be, quite literally, an accessory to crime?”

“The dog is blameless.”

“No matter what the woman has done.”

“She might be blameless, too. Whatever happened to the concept of innocent until proven guilty?”

Bad move, Whalen
.

He should keep his private thoughts about Serena to himself. Despite his bean-counter appearance, Adam was a tough, astute guy. He was his business partner, not his boss. However, Nick still needed to prove to him he had what it took to make the cut in a highly competitive business.

But he also felt he had to be fair. To Serena. To Mack. And ultimately to his business. Because although lying, duplicity, and misrepresentation were all part of the information-gathering process, ultimately S&W Investigations would succeed on its integrity. He couldn’t have it otherwise.

He swung his black GMC truck into a parking space only a few doors from Paws-A-While. The veterinary hospital was a couple of blocks away, and he’d arranged with Serena to pick Mack up to take him to a three o’clock appointment with the surgeon. He hadn’t told her he was bringing Adam. But he was easily explained as help to handle the heavyweight canine.

As he opened the car door to get out, Adam asked him to wait. Nick stopped, arrested by his partner’s expression, which must surely mirror his for degree of grimness.

Adam didn’t hold back. “Nick, you’re thinking with your johnson. And you know better than that. So, buddy, get shot of your feelings for the girl and concentrate on the business. You’ve got to be one hundred percent on your game.”

Nick felt like he’d been kicked in the gut. He realized the implication of the “or else” that Adam had not vocalized.

“I’ve done nothing to jeopardize this case. I know how important it is.”

“And I know how sexy Serena St. James is. Man, it would take a statue not to be moved by her. I can’t wait to see her in the flesh. Uh . . . so to speak.”

Nick clenched his hands into fists so tight they hurt. A fierce jealousy seared through him. And an instant response to spring to Serena’s defense.

Adam was a decent guy and meant nothing offensive by his words. Serena tried so hard to disguise herself as dowdy doggy day-care director Serena Oakley. But sexy Serena St. James in that alluring bath of chocolate would always be top of mind to anyone who had seen the campaign. That realization must surely contribute to the anxiety that shadowed her beautiful eyes.

But it was not his place to guard her.

Slowly he unclenched his fists.

Adam was right.

Nick had fought to keep her at arm’s length but, despite his best efforts, Serena had crept under his skin. He had to back right off. Images of her played through his mind, like a video in reverse. Serena teasing him about fur babies and pawdicures. Laughing as an enormous, goofy black dog struggled to clamber onto her lap. Serving him the world’s best lasagna with a worried frown in case he didn’t like it. And finally turning that radiant smile on him.

Why should he be so affected by a woman he had known for less than a week, beautiful as she undoubtedly was? As he fumbled with his seat belt, the answer hit him with a sudden, illuminating clarity.

Adam had crudely accused him of thinking with his johnson. But Adam was wrong. Nick was thinking with a different part of his anatomy. His heart.

That was the real danger. A danger he had to face head-on and deal with—pronto. Too shaken by the realization to speak any further, he swung himself out of the car and waited for Adam to join him.

He braced his shoulders as if going into battle. If they’d put an emotional Kevlar vest on the market, he’d be the first taker. He needed that caliber of protection to face Serena again.

He strode with Adam toward Paws-A-While. He must not think about Serena as anything other than a possible perp. Lose his objectivity and he could lose everything he had worked for. In short, career calamity.

On the way to the vet hospital he would ask Adam to take over from him in the Paws-A-While investigation. He would still honor his obligation to Mack but he could do that without any further contact with Serena.

It was the only way.

He pushed his way through the Paws-A-While door, grinning in spite of the blackness of his mood at Adam’s reaction to the “Who Let the Dogs Out?” door alert. Funny how quickly he himself had gotten used to it.

The check-in desk was deserted. Mornings and evenings were rush hour for day care. There was a bell to ring for arriving day-spa clients.

He scanned the room. The beagle clock, the paw prints on the floor, the smart black-and-white photo posters of dogs on the wall. He recognized some of them now: the two Weimaraners, Brutus, Coco, the tiny Chihuahua in a black, studded leather harness, and, of course, the inevitable Snowball.

What had seemed quirky and cute now seemed . . . sinister. This business was only six months old. Had she set it up with the express purpose of fleecing her clients? To get the opportunity to plant cameras in the collars of well-to-do clients so she could gain access to their confidential information?

That could be so. But he found it impossible to believe that Serena would do anything to purposefully hurt a dog. What grudges she might hold against people remained to be discovered.

Adam followed him through the door to the playroom. Immediately as Nick got to the gate he sensed something was different. There was the usual cacophony of dog noises and that by-now-familiar doggy smell. Serena’s pack of favorites ran up to the fence to check out the new people. Bessie tagged along, too; he was pleased to note how well she fit in now. He bent down to scratch her head in the gap between two railings. Too bad this would be her last day here. He stilled. Bessie. Had Serena put a camera in Bessie’s collar? A quick inspection didn’t find one. Later he would get Adam to run scanning equipment over it to be sure.

He looked up. No one was playing with the dogs. Three girls huddled together near the gate opposite, keeping an eye on the dogs without actively facilitating their games.

He opened the gate and headed to where the women stood. On the way he paused to pet Mack and surreptitiously check on the camera. He was pleased when his dog—
his
dog!—seemed to recognize him. The tiny lens was still there, lurking among the profusion of metal studs on the collar. He looked around at all the other dogs, all of them wearing collars. How many other cameras could be hidden on unwitting Trojan mutts? How the hell would Adam be able to check them all without arousing Serena’s suspicion?

Kylie stood with Adele, the young dancer, and a third girl he hadn’t met before who wasn’t wearing the Paws-A-While uniform. She was taller than Kylie but shorter than Serena and had straight brown hair cut into bangs. He was disconcerted by the way she stared at him with undisguised curiosity. He’d faced that reaction from the get-go at Paws-A-While. Was a single guy such a rarity in this place?

Adam gazed around him. No one observing him would know how shell-shocked he was by the whole Paws-A-While experience, but Nick could tell. To his knowledge, Adam was not a dog lover. It was a credit to his business partner’s training he didn’t blurt out his opinion on the spoiled, gussied-up pooches he saw around him. Had Adam noticed that Tinkerbelle’s pink sweatshirt was printed with a wedge of cherry pie and the words Cutie Pie? Or that the fur of one of the little white dogs had been dyed pale purple?

Kylie’s dimples were not in evidence, and she looked uncharacteristically strained. “Who’s your friend?” she asked, after she’d greeted Nick. Nick made the introductions.

“Adam’s come with me to take Mack to the vet for an appointment with the surgeon,” he explained.

Kylie’s face went goo-goo as it did when Mack was mentioned. “Serena told me what you’re doing for Mack. You won’t regret adopting him; he’s a wonderful dog.”

And what about the others? Was someone from Paws-A-While right at this moment beaming in on him and Adam via a strategically focused dog collar? He looked back at the dogs in the playroom. The bulldog’s collar was the same type as Mack’s. The Doberman’s had studs, too. There were a heck of lot of dogs and collars in that playroom.

“Thanks. I’m a lucky guy to find him. I can’t wait to get him better and take him home.”

“What about Bessie?” asked Kylie.

Damn.
It was so easy to slip from that essential doting-doggy-daddy persona. “Bessie? She and Mack seem to get on fine.”

Kylie nodded. “Here they do. It might be different when they have to share the same territory and form their own pack behavior.”

“I’m sure they’ll sort it out.” Truth be told, he hadn’t given it much thought. He only had Bessie in his care until Aunt Alice got back from her travels. But Mack was very big and Bessie was pint-sized. He’d have to keep an eye on them.

“If you need any help with getting the two dogs settled, I could give you a hand,” said Kylie.