“Dad had a houseguest who walked into the wrong room and had a panic attack,” John said.
“Did the side patio storm door have a panic attack as well?” Tanner asked with twinkling eyes. “When we called yesterday, Mom was sweeping up a lot of glass, and she said a guest had tried to go through the storm door to get away from the snake.”
“Precious was in his own cage under his sunlamp,” John said, offended. “He wasn’t trying to chase anybody. Poor old blind thing can’t even see an inch in front of his face and his cage has a lock on it on account of everybody in this house has a snake phobia!” He raised his voice.
“Everybody except you, dear,” Heather called from the kitchen. “You know, normal people have dogs and cats...”
“They wouldn’t have them here. They’d get eaten,” Tanner said with a gleeful grin.
“Your father’s guest said he was chased,” Heather called, persistent.
“Precious was in the cage!” John sounded exasperated. “How could he chase anybody?”
“John, you’re shouting,” Josie murmured.
He glared down at her. “It’s my damned house. I live here. I can yell if I want to!” he growled at her.
She looked at Tanner and rolled her eyes. Tanner chuckled. John glared at both of them and just walked off.
Tanner glanced down at her, frowning. She was wearingjeans and boots and a T-shirt with a big flannel shirt over it all. But the pancake holster was vaguely outlined at her back, despite the loose fit of the garment.
“Gun’s showing,” he pointed out.
She sighed. “Not many places I can hide it, and it won’t fit in my boot,” she pointed out.
“I just hope John doesn’t start using his perfectly good brain and start wondering how a woman with a rap sheet is allowed to carry. Conceal carry at that,” he added.
She made a face. “I can lie to Raines and say I have to carry it because I have enemies and damn the law. But that won’t work with your brother.”
He sighed. “No. It truly won’t. He’s already suspicious of you.”
She drew in a long breath. “I just wish this project wasn’t taking so much time,” she murmured. “I want to go home.”
“Where’s home?” he asked.
“It used to be Wyoming, but my dad is selling our ranch.” She grimaced and stared into space. “My mother and her parents and grandparents are buried in our family cemetery on the property. It breaks my heart. If I got paid what I was really worth,” she added with a mischievous glance, “I could buy it myself.”
“Yes, and your boss would say if you got paid what you were really worth, you’d owe him money!” he chuckled.
“I guess you know him,” she sighed.
“Everybody on the Hill knows him,” he corrected. He shook his head. “Why he hasn’t been fired—or more accurately locked up for his own safety—I’ll never know. God, the stunts he’s pulled!”
She laughed. “It’s why we all love working for him,” she replied.
“He had a tip,” Tanner continued. “A very contentious terrorist wanted by Interpol was lounging on a beach in Florida, at a mansion he bought with embezzled foreign aid payments.”
“Mansion. Foreign aid... don’t even get me started,” she sputtered.
“Same here. Anyway, your boss had a friend fly him down there. He dressed up ninja style, ambushed the guy on the beach, zipped him into a body bag and had a team of mercs he knew fly him straight to Belize, where he was tossed onto another private plane and handed over to Interpol to appear before the World Court for war crimes.”
He was laughing. “We heard about that. But why is it funny?”
“Guy was wearing a thong at the time.”
She started laughing, too.
John walked back in and stopped short at the comradery so apparent between his brother and this puzzling woman who was living with them. “What’s funny?” he wanted to know.
