Heat rushed up Mal’s chest. His main skill these days was keeping himself from going ballistic on assholes, and he was about to fail in that. “I’m not interested. Now get the hell out of my house.”
Force shook his head. “I understand you’re struggling with the aftereffects of a difficult assignment, but you won. You got the bad guys.”
Yeah, but how many people had died? In front of him? Mal’s vision started to narrow with darkness from the corners of his eyes. “You don’t want to be here any longer, Force.”
“You think you’re the only one with PTSD, dickhead?” Force spat, losing his casual façade.
“No, but I ain’t lookin’ to bond over it.” Sweat rolled down Mal’s back. “How’d you find me anyway?”
Force visibly settled himself. “It’s not exactly a coincidence that you bought this house. The only one that came close to what you were searching for.” He looked around the old-lady cheerful kitchen. “Though it is sweet.”
Mal’s fingers closed into a fist. “You set me up.”
“Yeah, we did. We need you here.” Force gestured around.
Mal’s lungs compressed. “Why?”
“Because you’re the best undercover cop we’ve ever seen, and we need that right now. Bad.” Force ran a shaking hand through his hair.
“Why?” Mal asked, already fearing the answer.
“The shut-in next door. She’s the key to one of the biggest homegrown threats to our entire country. And here you are.” Force’s eyes gleamed with the hit.
Well, fuck.
Chapter Two
The smell of comfort and sugar filled Pippa’s kitchen in the form of freshly baked banana bread, chocolate chip cookies, and homemade apple pie. By the time the pie had started to cool, her heart rate had returned to normal. Almost.
How much of a dork had she made of herself hours before? She tried to keep from peeking through her kitchen window like some creepy stalker, but her neighbor had a visitor. So the guydidhave friends.
Tough guy, kind of sexy, dangerous-looking friends.
Well, one friend anyway. She’d seen him stride up the walkway and go right into the house without knocking. He was tall, like the neighbor. Messy dark hair and muscly arms beneath a ratty T-shirt. Who were these guys?
Giving up the fight, she dusted off her hands and walked at a sedate pace, just like a normal person, through her living room to the wide window facing the street. The visitor had a clean black truck. A big one.
Maybe the two guys were some sort of black truck club. She grinned at the thought. You could tell a lot about people from their vehicles.
Take her. She had a fifteen-year-old, sturdy Subaru she’d purchased five years ago. It sat quietly in the garage and was only used about once a month. Just growing old and dusty. Like her.
Movement in the truck caught her eye.
She sidled closer to the window. Somebody was in the driver’s side of the truck. Even though it was chilly outside, a sign of the early spring season, the window was down. Her sofa sat under her window, so she perched on her knees and squinted.
A furry head turned, and sharp brown eyes caught hers. A dog. She gasped. How did the dog know she was looking?
His tongue lolled out. She chuckled. Adorable. The pooch had a huge head with darker fur across his eyes and nose in a kind of a mask. She’d seen German shepherds on television, and they always looked so dangerous. This one looked furry and bored. Somehow, his expression appeared as if he was put out by something—maybe by being left in the truck.
She slowly lifted her hand and waved. Man, she was totally losing it. Maybe it was time to venture outside again to the real world. Visit a mall or something.
The dog’s left ear lifted higher. His powerful shoulders bunched, and he leaped through the window, landing gracefully on the asphalt.
She jerked back.
As if on a mission, he cleared the clean row of shrubs between the two driveways and prowled up hers, sleek muscles moving beneath his thick brown fur. He paused at the sidewalk and sniffed the shoots of her tulips, which were just beginning to sprout.
Turning his head, he gave a mighty sneeze.
