Wild on You (20 page)

“She’s a vegetarian,” Risk broke in, shaking his head woefully. “No meat.”

“Vegetable omelet, then? I have fresh spinach and peppers, tomatoes from the garden.”

“Sounds wonderful, thanks.”

Monte guided them to a wooden table situated in an octagonal breakfast nook. “Sit, sit. Coffee? Orange juice?”

“Yes, please,” she said to both. Sugar and caffeine would do her a lot of good as she tried to assimilate her surroundings.

“Cappuccino, latte, espresso?” Monte asked, gesturing to a fancy automated machine on the counter. “Cream, skim, two percent milk?”

“Just a regular coffee and regular milk, please.”

A pan of bacon snapped and sizzled on the enormous gas stove in the enormous kitchen. She could tell that Chase spent a lot of time here, or at least planned to. Out back, a waterfall splashed into a large black-finished pool, making the water’s surface sparkle in the sunshine. Beyond that, the bay gave the sun a much larger canvas on which to dance. No city from this angle, only distant land.

Monte set a glass and mug in front of her, then returned with bowls of sugar and creamer, a little spoon, and a napkin. Risk didn’t have to tell Monte what he wanted; the cook already knew, bringing a mug and a glass.

“Fresh-squeezed orange juice,” she said on a breath as it tingled across her tongue. “Oh my God, I want one of him.”

Risk chuckled. “As Chase says, it’s like having a Jewish mother. He fusses and coddles, but no guilt.”

Monte set the plate of bacon behind the napkin holder, out of her line of sight. Within minutes, Risk’s fried eggs and her omelet came out, presented so perfectly that she hardly wanted to cut into it.

“This is amazing,” she said on the first bite, the cheese melting in her mouth. “Thank you.”

Monte bowed to her. “I’ll leave you to your breakfast,
mis amigos
.”

The scent of the meat curled around her senses. In the same way Risk was doing. She focused on her omelet.

Risk bit the end of his bacon with a crunch. “When I’m rich, I’m going to get one of him, too. He cooks bacon to perfection. I gather Chase inherited a wad and made some
good investments. He’s also been doing research and development work that’s gotten him some big bucks as far as military contracts. Like a smart bullet.”

“A smart bullet?”

“It has a microprocessor in it. You lase the target, and that transmits data to the gun, which programs the bullet. It tracks right to the target. Our team was just beginning to use them.” His words dropped off, but she heard the
before we got tanked
.

Weapons, bullets, lasers … it was all a different world to her. Risk was a different world, and so were the feelings she was having about him. Warm, gushy feelings that made her think of the incident under the table. Her body was screaming out for more of that decadence. More of Risk.

He met her gaze across the table. “I see you eyeing my bacon like you want to devour it.” He snapped off another piece with his teeth. “You could have all the bacon you wanted, Addie. Just say the word.”

Was he really talking about bacon? Her body sure wasn’t thinking about bacon.

Footsteps drew their attention toward the hallway. Saxby and another man barreled into the kitchen. Sax beelined to the espresso machine, stuck his mug beneath the spout, and pressed a couple of buttons. “Plain old regular coffee would do just fine, but there’s not a standard coffeepot in the place.”

The other guy headed right over to Risk, a grin on his handsome face. “Hey, Risk.” The morning light made his dark brown hair shine like chocolate, and his skin gleamed like mocha latte, heavy on the latte.

“Salsa Boy.” Risk and the man did a fist bump. “Good to see you.” He nodded toward Addie. “This is Addie Wunder. Addie, Salsa. Also known as Salsa Boy.”

“Or Julian,” he added, giving her a put-upon expression as he shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“We dubbed him Salsa Boy because of his ringtone. Some salsa band from Puerto Rico.”

Julian snatched one of Risk’s pieces of bacon. “Thankfully, Boy got dropped over time.”

Addie curled her fingers around her mug handle and settled back in her chair, enjoying their camaraderie. “How did Risk get off so easily?”

“Risk came with his nickname, but we had a few choice ones for him, too. He was Farm Boy at the beginning.”

Sax sank down into one of the vacant seats. “And AC. Because the son of a bitch liked to cut holes in our boxers. How’d you like having some air conditioning yourself, buddy boy?”

Like a memory tucked away for future perusal, the image of that square cut into Risk’s boxer briefs came to mind. Addie tried to push it away, but it stuck there, in full color.

She turned to Saxby. “And what’s your nickname?”

“It started out as Mr. Southern Charm, but as all long nicknames do, it got truncated to Sooch.”

“And sometimes Smooch,” Julian added, tilting his chair back precariously, his shoe on the edge of the table. “When he’s working the ladies.”

“In the SEALs,” Risk explained, “you don’t get to choose your own nickname. The boys stick one to you. Usually based on either your personality or some embarrassing incident.”

“Remember Upchucker?” Sax asked. “Guy lost his cookies during Hell Week in BUD/S, what, a dozen times.”

“He graduated, but the name stuck for years.” Risk drained the last of his orange juice and got to his feet.

Addie stood, too. “You guys are awful.”

Risk splayed his hand over his chest. “Wasn’t us. Some guy named Stinker passed on the word. Guess how he got his nickname?”

Addie raised her hand as she headed to the coffee machine. “I don’t want to know.”

It felt strange being in a room with so much testosterone. Then Chase ducked his head in, adding to it. “You all ready?”

Everyone filled their mugs, the espresso machine whirring and clicking, and then they followed Chase outside and down the path to the huge metal building. There was no formal reception area, only a lounge. On the other side of a glass wall was a large open space divided into lanes. Two men and one woman stood at chest-high stations popping off rounds with their semi-automatics and decimating paper targets. That was about all Addie knew of guns, that there were revolvers and semi-autos. And rifles and shotguns. She wasn’t against guns as a rule, but she sure wanted nothing to do with handling one.

They followed Chase up some stairs to a second level, where a long carpeted hallway sported several doors. The second door led into a large conference room with an oblong table in the center. The tall-backed leather chairs made soft whuffing sounds when the guys dropped down into them. Addie made a point to gently—and quietly—settle into hers.

Chase gestured to Saxby and Julian. “I asked them to sit in so they could get a feel for how we work. Is that all right?” This he directed to Addie.

“Sure. The more, the merrier.”

“You and Risk have eliminated two of the suspects in your assault. We need more options if we’re going to figure out who’s behind this.”

“I’ve been going down the list of people I’ve pissed off recently.”

Julian’s sleek eyebrows bobbed up. “There’s a list?”

“Yeah, I know,” Risk said, shaking his head. “I said the same thing.”

She ignored them. “Most people are annoyed. Some get angry, but they know, deep down, that they’re in the wrong. There is one guy who might be angry enough to try to hurt me. He’s serving two years on felony charges because I exposed his illegal canned-hunting operation. He was yelling about his God-given rights to kill animals on his own blankety-blank property and wasn’t this America and not some Communist blankety-blank country.”

Risk leaned in closer. “He would have been a good one to bring up, oh, say, right at the beginning.”

“But he’s in jail. And his wife is the one who tipped me off in the first place, so
she wouldn’t try to off me.”

“What’s a canned hunt?” Julian asked. “Like where you go shooting cans or something?”

Risk nodded his head toward Julian. “City of Orlando boy here. Never hunted a thing until we went over to Iraq.”

“I fished,” Julian said, shoring up his shoulders.

“Yeah, those big, bad snooks.” Risk shook his head, obviously enjoying teasing his comrade. “It’s where you pay to hunt an animal in an enclosed space. Some guy in our BUD/S class was bragging about bagging a lion in Tennessee. Turned out to be at some facility that buys unwanted exotic animals from owners and zoos, so basically the twinkie was shooting a semi-tame animal. He was one of the ninety percent of our SEAL training class who rang the bell and quit, no surprise.” He turned back to Addie. “So what did you do to this guy?”

“I sneaked onto his private land and took video of animals in cages that were about to be hunted. Elrod, the property owner, was showing a client the mountain lion he’d chosen to hunt. She had been a pet that the original owner realized was too much to handle.” The memory of that doomed cat still made her ache. “Her name was Burgundy. The so-called hunter was saying how he liked that Elrod’s hunts accommodated people on tight time frames or with little hunting expertise. They injected a microchip transponder into the animal so its location could be narrowed down if the client needed the extra help or was getting impatient. But since the animal was going to be released into a smaller enclosure, Elrod assured the client that he could probably bag it down without the chip.”

Risk frowned in disgust. “Poor cat didn’t have a chance.”

“None of them do. It goes against the principles—and honor—of fair-chase hunting. Even ethical hunters decry the practice as degrading the reputation of hunting. I went directly to the local sheriff. That was a big mistake. He was more concerned about my trespassing than what I’d discovered. Oh, he couched it as concern for me.”

“Well,
yeah
,” Risk said. “You could have been accidentally shot, since I’m
guessing you weren’t wearing a bright orange safety vest. Or purposely shot, if this guy is capable of hiring thugs to assault you.”

Addie stared at her fingers tapping on the table, knowing he was right. “I took a chance, I know. And it was for nothing. The sheriff took the memory chip from my camera and transferred the footage to his computer. He acted shocked, muttering about ethical treatment of animals, everything I wanted to hear. He assured me he would look into it and thanked me for my civic duty. It was only after I left that I discovered he’d deleted the pictures and videos from the chip. I went back to his office to get a copy, and he fed me a line about it being evidence, blah blah blah. When I got testy, he threatened to book me for trespassing. I saw that the whole concerned-about-me-and-the-animals thing had been an act. He was covering for Elrod. Maybe they’re friends, or maybe it’s the small-town thing, but he wasn’t going to do squat about it. The second time I sneaked onto his land—”

“The
second
time?” Risk pinched the bridge of his nose with a pained expression.

“That was the only way I could get proof. I went back and waited for hours until the next client arrived. This time the target was a bear who had been in commercials and even appeared in a movie. I not only took the footage to higher authorities, I leaked it to the press.” Addie faced the men at the table. “They ran with it, condemning the hunting of pets. Some of these operations actually change the genetics of deer and elk to increase their size and racks so they can’t move like a normal animal. Can you imagine what would happen if one of those mutated animals escapes and breeds with the natural population?”

Risk had the dreamy look that overtook him whenever she got impassioned about something—right before he kissed her. Which she was pretty sure he wouldn’t do here.

Chase woke up his laptop. “Give me the guy’s name, state of residence, and anything else you have on him.”

She pulled out her smartphone and called up Walter Elrod’s file, reciting everything, beginning with the name of his establishment, Live Shot Game Preserve.

Chase typed it all in, then looked up at her. “The two guys who jumped you were
not anyone you saw at his property, obviously, since you would have recognized them. He could have hired someone to take you out from jail. Or they could be people he knows or employees. Give me their descriptions.”

“I only saw glimpses of them. Everything happened so fast.” She’d been so terrified.

Risk rattled off a thorough description of both men. Show-off.

“But why would he hire someone to come after me now?” she asked.

Chase sat back in his chair. “Maybe he’s smart enough to wait awhile, so he’s not an obvious suspect. Maybe he’s been simmering all this time, thinking of nothing but you while he sits in his cell. He thinks he has justification. You sent him to jail, dinged his business and reputation. And his wife left. Doesn’t matter if he’s been a bastard their whole marriage, he’ll blame you. I’ll find out if he’s got a propensity for violence.”

“The guy does hunt animals,” Risk said. “Weak, tame animals.”

“And he’s armed,” Sax pointed out. “Probably has a whole collection of rifles. He’s got the means to pull off an assault. Or murder.”

She shivered.

“Sorry, Addie, but we have to assume the worst,” Chase said. “He wasn’t going to take you away to give you a stern lecture.”

“I know. Believe me, I’m not one to mince the truth. What scares me the most is the thought that this guy might have Tigs. That’s the tiger cub,” she clarified.

Risk just stared at her. “That scares you more than, say, this guy trying to off you?”

“Right now I’m pretty darned safe.” She gestured to the table. “But poor little Tigs is not.”

Chase gave her a smile. “So let’s see how Mr. Elrod’s life is going nowadays. Is he a model prisoner or a troublemaker? I’ll find out who his family is and if they match these descriptions. See if his land is still being used as a hunting preserve. Anyone else you can think of? Even if you don’t consider them angry enough to take a shot at you.”

She listed off a few others.

Chase typed in the information and closed the laptop. “Julian, we’ll meet back here in two hours and continue to go over your possible employment. Then you and Saxby can do some hostage work in the haunted house so I can see your skills.”