“I won’t,” I say, my whiny tone making me sound like Eeyore. And I won’t. I’ll suffer through it in the hopes I catch a glimpse of Mr. Three o’Clock.
CHAPTER SIX
OPERATION MACKENZIE BLUE
I’ve been watchingher for a little over a week now. Yeah, I know—stalker. But it’s what I’m trained to do. As a former marine and then an FBI agent for ten years after that, I know about investigating targets. I know how to find shit out about people that others can’t—at least no one outside the bureau. Couple my skills with Gill’s and we’re the perfect team. I’m a foot soldier, while Gill sits behind the scenes and finds out everything we need to know about our clients, potential suspects, or in this case, a woman.
So, here’s the intel on Miss MacKenzie Blue Parker: I know where she works and that she’s got two jobs. The job at Watertower Place is her primary source of income, but she also walks dogs every weekday during her lunch hour. Usually, she picks them up and takes them to a nearby dog park with running/walking trail.
Today, I’m watching her on one of her lunchtime walks. My first instinct is to pull on my sweatshirt and slide on my running shoes to see what she does when I run past. Will she recognize me? I’m not wearing my glasses, which aren’t really my glasses. I only use those on jobs so Gill can be my eyes and ears. I watch her step across the busy intersection with the dogs. She visiblyshivers. It’s a cold January day, and she’s wearing that trench coat again. No hat. No gloves. “Damn it, MacKenzie. You need to bundle up. It’s cold near the lake.”Talking to yourself now, Sam? Not cool.
I pull my car into a spot on the street and step out. I open the back door and grab my sneakers, stretch for a couple of minutes, and set out onto the trail. She’s stepped onto the same trail, so I know she’s taking the short loop around the park. I set out in the opposite direction, knowing I’ll run right past her. Soon I pick up my pace. Might as well get a workout in today. Five minutes later, I spot her with the three dogs: a golden retriever, a Shetland sheepdog, and a poodle. I roll my eyes at the sight. She’s getting pulled in three different directions. The golden has the weight advantage, but I give props to the poodle for sheer tenacity.
Interestingly, the other dogs follow the poodle wherever it goes. The alpha? It doesn’t seem possible, but sometimes it’s not the biggest and strongest in the lead. I bend down, pretending to tie my shoe, and watch her with my peripheral vision. She’s bent over now, picking up something with a plastic bag. “Jesus, she’s a saint.” I stand when I see her attempt to direct the poodle and his or her posse back onto the trail.
I can hear her voice clearly now. She’s talking to them. Shit, I didn’t hear her voice at all that night. It’s sweet and almost delicate. I half expected it to be rough and gruff with all the belching and beer drinking she did. I chuckle. The truth is, I like her voice. It makes me want to close my eyes and just listen to her and then fuck her senseless, but I can’t go there right now.
“Damn it, Brutus. Get your ass back on the trail,” she grumbles.
Please don’t tell me they named that poodle Brutus?
“I know there are all sorts of things to sniff, buddy, but I’m on a time crunch here. You need to do your business, then we’ve gotto go.” I watch as she leans down and pats the golden retriever on the head, “You too, Daisy Duke. Be a good girl and follow my lead.”
I watch the large dog rub its head against her touch. I’d do that, too. The Shetland sheepdog seems to be fine following the herd. Okay, it’s time to see what she does. I step back onto the trail and jog slowly toward her. When she looks up, she spots me. She does a double take, and then I watch the most beautiful, breathtaking smile appear on her face. Her eyes are bright and sparkling. She lifts her free hand up and waves. Not just an average wave; no, this one is excited and frantic. She recognizes me.
Since I’m not ready to give myself up just yet, I give her myuh-I-don’t-know-youlook. Just before I pass her, I see the disappointment and, I believe, embarrassment on her face. Well, shit, I wasn’t trying to embarrass her; I’m just not ready to play my hand yet. Just as I run past, I say, “Hey,” then continue jogging. I round the curve of the trail and turn my head back. Her head is down, and her pace has slowed. “Goddammit. I wasn’t trying to make her sad.” Picking up my pace, I get to my car before she can get to this side of the trail. I jump in and start the engine. “Shit, I screwed that up,royally.”
I leave MacKenzie and her three canine friends and pull out of my parking spot, moving to an obscured area so I can still keep an eye on her. I want to be sure she crosses the road and gets safely back to work. Yeah, creepy stalker right here. I can’t seem to help myself. I’m torn between wanting to save her, protect her, and defile her so, so hard. Damn it, thinking about MacKenzie and her sweet lips make me hard as a rock.
CHAPTER SEVEN
SPOTTED DICK
“Well, I saw him,”I say into my phone. I’m walking out of the dog park with Daisy Duke, Brutus, and Maggie on our way back to their place.
“You did?” squeals Lauren. “Where?”
“On the trail down here. The place I always take the dogs.” I know I don’t sound excited. Why should I be? “I spotted him on the trail. He was jogging.”
“I wonder why he was down there,” she says absently. “So, what happened?”
“Well, he was kind of a dick.”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
I take a deep breath. Admitting what a dork I was is difficult. I don’t have that thing that Lauren’s got—cool confidence. “I was walking the dogs… and oh, my God, Brutus is such an asshole. He?—”
Lauren interrupts my rant. “Nope. Nope. Stay on task here, Mac. You can tell me about those beasts later.” Lauren is frightened of dogs. Big ones, little ones, it doesn’t matter. She’s scared shitless.
“Okay, fine. So, I was walking the dogs, and I looked up, and there he was—jogging right toward me.”
“What happened? Did he recognize you? Did you talk?”
“Jeez, woman. Let me speak.” Shit, she’s more excited than I am, er, was. “I saw him, and I smiled like a frigging idiot. I waved, but not just any wave. No, it was like a frantic, spastic, embarrassing wave. God, I’m such a tool.”
“You are not. So, what did he do? Did he smile back? Did he stop to talk, realizing that very second that you’re his one true love?” She sighs on the end of her line.
“Um. No. In fact, he kind of looked at me like I smelled like dog doo.” I probably did, actually. For a small dog, Brutus can dish it out.
