Page 35 of Serve ’N’ Protect

Markus took one more sneak ’n’ peek, cataloging a boatload of intel.

The way the van was parked, he could just make out the driver’s green ball cap and the cell phone held to his ear. Maybe he’d only stopped to take a call. He wore a matching green shirt, possibly a uniform of some kind. Unfortunately, the angle didn’t allow for Markus to read the license plate. Movement through the window drew his attention back to the driver. He was no longer talking on the phone, and a few strands of blond hair beneath the cap were visible.

Markus tucked himself back behind the house. Seconds later, the sound of the engine cranking back into drive came to his ears. He leaned out again but not in time to get a look at the tag before the van picked up speed and disappeared around the bend.

In the unlikely event the driver did a one-eighty then sped back around, aiming a submachine gun at the house and peppering it full of holes, Markus maintained his position for a solid two minutes before turning to see Ghost’s body quivering with pent-up energy.

“Come,” he called out, and Ghost bolted to his side so fast he could have given a gazelle a run for its money. His dog’s head twisted in every direction as he searched for whatever threat had driven Markus to take cover. Like some people, Ghost didn’t have an off switch. “Easy, there.” He leaned over and pet Ghost’s side, feeling the dog’s muscles bunching beneath his fingertips.

He opened the back door, letting Ghost bound into the kitchen first. He’d been about to take off his jacket when he heard a soft thump coming from the living room. Knowing Ghost was about to take off to investigate, he corrected the thought by putting a settling hand on his dog’s head.

“Stay,” he whispered, grinding his teeth. Whoever was in the house would have heard him and Ghost coming in, but he didn’t want Ghost’s nails on the tile or hardwood floors to alert the intruder as to their exact position. He needed to get in the habit of setting the alarm every time he went out.

Biting back a groan as he lifted his leg to a chair, he tugged up his jeans and yanked the Glock from its holster.

In his eagerness to escape from boring himself to tears with another minute of that video, he’d forgotten to verify the front door was locked. It probably was. Then again, in the week since he’d been off active duty, he’d taken the word sloppy to entirely new and lofty levels. For all he knew, the driver of the van had discharged someone who was, right at this very moment, setting up a guillotine in the living room to cut his head off.

His heart thumped faster as he moved silently into the hallway, gripping his gun in the indoor-ready position, finger off the trigger, muzzle aimed at the floor. As he edged closer to the living room, where he was reasonably certain the sound had come from, he raised the gun, sliding his finger to the trigger. He rounded the doorjamb. And aimed in.

Cassidy looked up from where she stood holding a book. The book slipped from her hand, her blue eyes widening to the size of small plums, and he quickly lowered the weapon.

“Oh crap.” Her shoulders sagged with obvious relief. “You scared me to death. Again. I should hang a cowbell around your neck.”

“Sorry.” Old habits died hard, and the marines had taught him everything there was to know about warfare, including sneaking up on the enemy. “I wouldn’t need the cowbell if you’d quit sneaking into my house uninvited and without calling first.” Tactically, he really needed to set that ground rule and set it fast, but in truth he didn’t mind her intrusions at all.

“I didn’t sneak, and I did try calling.” She pointed to his cell phone on the table.

Markus sat heavily in a chair opposite the sofa, putting his foot on the table and holstering the Glock. In addition to his new level of sloppiness, apparently he’d lost a few brain cells during his five-foot fall from the ladder to the floor. Given his current situation, going outside without a phone was like heading into combat without a radio. A mistake like that could get him killed.

“I thought something had happened to you again.” This time, she pointed to the ladder in the adjacent dining room. “Like maybe you tried changing another lightbulb.”

“Funny.” Although after Hugh’s visit yesterday, he was glad her sense of humor had returned.

Leaning on her cane with both hands, she grimaced before settling on the sofa and looking around. “Where’s Ghost?”

Mentally, he smacked himself upside the head. Ghost was still in the kitchen on a stay command. “Ghost, come,” he called out.

Ghost’s nails clicked as he ran into the hallway then the living room. Instead of going to Markus’s side, he ran directly to Cassidy, his tail whipping back and forth, banging into the table and dislodging Markus’s stack of books as he rested his head in her lap.

“There you are.” She took Ghost’s head in her hands, leaning in and crooning, “You’re such a handsome boy.” Ghost licked her chin. “Yes, you are.” He licked her again. “And you love it when I scratch you under your chinny-chin-chin, don’t you?” More licks.

Markus rolled his eyes. His dog—one of the biggest and fiercest to ever patrol the White House and protect the First Family—was behaving like a toy poodle. “Was there a reason you broke in again?”

“Again, I didn’t break in.” Without looking up, she continued pampering Ghost with scratches behind his ears and under his chin. “You forget I have a key.” This time, she did look at him. Genuine concern radiated from her pretty face. “Besides, I’m supposed to be watching over you. I want that check Captain McMurray promised me, and I won’t get it if you get hurt on my watch.”

“Ah.” Understanding dawned, and he settled back in the chair. “So it’s about the money.”

“I’m an accountant. It’s always about the money, and I’m good with numbers.”

We’ll see about that. He reached for his cell phone and cued up the calculator. “What’s 452 times 213?” he asked, punching in the numbers he’d just pulled out of his ass.

She looked up at the ceiling, looking cute as hell as she twisted her lips then squinted first one eye and then the other. “96,276.”

He looked at his phone. “Say that again.”

“96,276.”

He stared in disbelief.