Chapter Three

By the time Andi pulled into the lot at the DPC, it was after ten a.m., still an hour and a half before lunch service kicked off. There were only a handful of other vehicles, some of which belonged to her staff, some to patrons running their dogs in the hundred-by-two-hundred-foot dog run.

She parked and let out a heavy sigh. Behind her on the truck’s bench seat, Stray responded with a whine that had Andi glancing in the rearview mirror. The lingering smells of slightly damp dog mixed with baby shampoo filled the cab. Seemed like Stray had recovered from her surprise encounter with that giant K-9.

Better than I have. Holy cow, what a way to start the week.

In the end, all Cox had said was that he’d be in touch. “In touch.” She laughed bitterly. Yeah, she knew what they’d be in touch about. Her cooperation, which she undoubtedly had to keep giving if there was any hope of getting her bank account unfrozen.

Opening a restaurant was risky business in any town, let alone in a suburb without a big city to provide patronage. In order to add the dog park aspect to the place, she’d had to buy land outside Springfield. The location had been less expensive, but the necessary renovations had sucked her account close to dry. She’d done the research, though, and discovered there wasn’t another dog park within a hundred miles, let alone one with a restaurant. She was counting on that unique combination to draw in customers who loved good food and spending time outdoors with their furry friends. The DPC was everything she could have hoped for, and she’d finally found a reason to be optimistic about the future.

Until now.

Using her bank account was a betrayal of everything she and Joe had once shared. And it hurts, dammit. She tightened her fingers around the steering wheel. Not for the first time that morning she began questioning her judgment where men were concerned.

It had been nearly two years since she’d seen Steve. His duplicity had been the nail in her dating coffin, and since then, she’d sworn off men altogether. That conniving bastard had slept with her, pretending to want a real relationship, when in fact, he’d only been trying to get close to her to further his career. He’d said he wanted to help with her clients’ portfolios, and in the end, he tried bilking them out of their annuities to bring in more money for the firm. All to pad his accomplishments and grab the next VP promotion. One that should have been hers.

After wising up, she’d confronted her bosses about Steve’s illegal activities, and the sons of bitches actually backed him up. Then they tried to buy her silence. She’d quit on the spot, then walked out the door and turned over evidence to the Attorney General’s Office.

She let out a disgusted huff.

It’s in the past. Forget it and move on.

There were plenty of problems to deal with in the here and now.

Shaking her head, she gazed out the windshield at the dog run, watching a medium-size Schnauzer cavorting with a large gray Bouvier. Stray’s friends.

She’d temporarily named the dog Stray after the animal had wandered into the DPC about a month ago. The café was turning out to be a magnet for wayward dogs, and thus far she’d been 100 percent successful in finding good homes for all of them. Since Stray was a beautiful female with a sunny temperament, she figured the dog would be adopted any day now, and she was already sad at the prospect of not having her around.

Unable to drag her butt inside, she sat in the truck with the engine running. She frowned, wishing she could call Joe, but that wasn’t possible. Federal agents had seized her personal phone.

Who writes phone numbers down anymore?

The cell at work didn’t have any of her personal contacts, but at least she could borrow it for a bit.

Even sitting in the truck with the AC on, she began to sweat into her blue tank and khaki shorts—the clothes Sgt. Houston had selected for her. Funny how he was so completely not the kind of man she’d be interested in, yet something about him stuck in her mind. Like a burr. No, make that one big-ass burr.

The man was as big and strong as an oak tree. Even his dog was enormous, looking as if it should be housed in a barn, not a kennel. The two of them were made for each other. Although the dog—Saxon—was significantly friendlier than the man. No, she much preferred a warm, affable man who actually knew how to smile. Definitely not one who obviously spent every spare moment pumping iron in a gym.

Ironically, he seemed to have a soft spot for dogs. His concern for Stray’s wellbeing had taken her totally by surprise.

No sooner had she stepped out of the truck than the midmorning heat and oppressive humidity slammed into her. She opened the rear door, and Stray leaped out, charging to the dog run’s fence. Her golden-brown body wriggled as she stood on her hind legs and rested her front paws on the top rail.

Andi readjusted her leather shoulder bag then joined Stray at the fence. She ruffled the hair on the dog’s head and massaged her soft ears. Stray groaned in obvious pleasure, leaning into her hand. She didn’t know who got more out of these moments, her or the dog. There was something so soothing about petting a dog.

Stray barked and pushed her wet nose against Andi’s hand.

“Okay, okay, girl.” She laughed. “Go play with your friends.”

The second she’d opened the inner gate to the run, Stray took off like a shot and bolted after the other dogs.

Back outside the gates, Andi joined two of her customers, Frank Feldman and Meera Devine. Frank owned Penny, the Schnauzer, while Scottie, the Bouvier, belonged to Meera.

Frank was a nice-looking man, around forty-five and with only a touch of gray in his hair. He was absolutely crazy about dogs and the DPC’s broccoli rabe and pulled pork panini with a side of mac ’n’ cheese. Meera was around the same age as Frank and worked part-time as a secretary. Despite the woman being ten years her senior, Andi enjoyed the many chats they’d had since the restaurant opened.

“Morning, Frank. Morning, Meera.”

“Morning, Andi,” they replied in unison.

“Stray is certainly full of energy today.” Meera nodded to where Stray ran circles around the other dogs.

“That she is.” Whereas Andi felt positively drained.

When she glanced at the other woman, she couldn’t miss how close Frank stood to Meera or how their shoulders remained in constant contact.

Hmm, sweet. The possibility that the DPC had brought two of her favorite customers together added a touch of much-needed brightness to what had begun as a depressingly awful morning.

She smiled inwardly. Frank and Meera were perfect for each other. “I’d better get inside before the lunch rush kicks in.” More importantly, she suspected they were still in the “puppy love” stage and would prefer being alone.

After exchanging goodbyes, she headed to the cafe’s rear entrance and pulled open the door that led directly into the kitchen to find Marty Machatto, her head chef, leaning over to inspect something in the panini press.

“’Bout time you showed up.” He lifted the lid of the panini press and slid out an expertly toasted sandwich, complete with perfect golden-brown grill lines. He placed it on a cutting board and made quick work of cutting it into four squares. “It’s my new invention.”

“Ingredients?” She didn’t know which happened first, her mouth watering or her stomach growling.

He grabbed a napkin, then handed her a piece of the sandwich. “Smoked turkey, avocado, homemade mozzarella with a pine-nut pesto spread, on potato-dill bread.”

“Sounds delicious.” She bit into the crusty sandwich, then chewed slowly. The garlicky pesto hit her taste buds first, followed by the mozzarella and all the other fresh ingredients that blended harmoniously on her tongue. Closing her eyes, she swallowed, then sighed her approval. “Chef, you’ve outdone yourself. It’s orgasmic. Start it out as a special, and we’ll see if everyone else loves it as much as I do.”

“Hoped you’d say that.” He was about to bite into one of the other pieces of sandwich when Tess McTavish, the DPC’s manager, flew into the kitchen, her long, curly red hair bouncing. “Here.” He handed her a wedge. “Try this and tell me if you don’t think it’s the best panini you ever had. This one’s vegetarian. Just for you.”

“Hey, Andi.” Tess’s green eyes sparkled as she smiled in a bubbly way that lit up any room. With her dangly crystal earrings, multicolored tie-dyed tank tucked into cut-off jeans, and Birkenstocks, she was a throwback to hippie-Woodstock days. The woman was only five foot two, but no one would ever overlook her.

“Thanks, Marty.” She accepted the sandwich and was about to take a bite when she gave Andi another look and frowned. “You okay?”

“Rough morning.” And then some. “Fill you in later. Cappuccino first.”

Along with being the manager, Tess had also become Andi’s best friend, and every morning before the lunch rush they gabbed over coffee, and no topic was off-limits. Movies, makeup…and men, of course.

Andi stowed her bag in a locker against the wall then began scooping espresso into the stainless-steel Gaggia.

“Wow,” Tess mumbled between chews then pointed to the plate with the remaining two pieces of panini. “Can I take these out to Kara and Zoe?”

“Sure.” Marty handed her the plate, and she disappeared out the door to share the panini with the senior waitresses. As if twenty-five could be considered senior.

The espresso machine began dripping into two ceramic cups, and Andi started foaming milk. Minutes later, she was sitting at the gleaming, square wooden bar next to Tess, watching Kara wipe down the dozen or so beer taps until they gleamed. Zoe busied herself setting one of the twenty rustic wood tables situated around the dining area.

Andi pivoted on her stool, taking in the earthy decor. Between the tables and bar seating, the café’s legal seating capacity maxed out at about a hundred, less since she’d removed several tables to accommodate a small black piano. To bring in more business, she’d booked a musician for two weeks from this Saturday.

Funny how Joe had shared her love of music and food, but not dogs. He’d hidden that fact at first. That should have been her first clue that not only wasn’t he the right man for her, but he was capable of concealing things from her. Important things.

Next, she gazed fondly at her favorite part of the DPC. The Wall of Dog.

On the south side of the dining room, covering nearly every inch of wall space, were framed photos of dogs, some posing with their owners, some without. It was a decor idea she’d come up with, and her customers loved it. After spending a hundred dollars at the DPC, a customer could hang one framed photo of their pooch. The only exceptions were photos of the stray dogs she’d found homes for and a copy of the photo on the bureau in Joe’s bedroom. The same one Sgt. Houston had said she and Joe looked “pretty cozy” in.

She couldn’t stop her lips from lifting. Since Joe didn’t like dogs, he hadn’t appreciated being tacked to the center of a wall surrounded by canines. She’d hung it there as a joke, intending to take it down right after he’d seen it. Then it had grown on her, and she’d left it there for posterity.

After what he’d done with her bank account… Serves the bastard right.

“Earth to Andi.” Her friend eyed her with concern. “What’s going on?”

She lowered her voice so Kara and Zoe wouldn’t hear. Ten minutes later, she’d related everything about the search warrant.

“Holy crap.” Tess’s green eyes went wide as she set down her cup.

Andi put her finger to her lips, glancing at the two waitresses to see if they’d heard anything. Luckily, they’d moved on to the deck to set the exterior tables. “Trust me, there’s nothing holy about it. If it’s true, then these are bad people Joe’s gotten involved with. You have to promise me that you’ll keep this quiet.”

“Cross my heart.” She dragged her finger down her chest, then from side to side in the shape of a cross. “And the police actually broke into the house while you were still in bed?”

“Not exactly.” She took a sip of cappuccino, and her face flamed, although she couldn’t be certain if it was from the hot coffee or from Sgt. Houston catching her clad only in her oldest, saggiest bathing suit. “I was washing Stray in the shower.”

“Did you hear them come in?” Tess leaned forward on the stool. “I mean, did they at least knock?”

“He said they knocked. Unfortunately, I didn’t hear it, so they had to break in.”

“He said they knocked? He who?” After saying “who,” Tess’s lips remained puckered as if she were whistling.

“Sgt. Nicholas Houston of the Massachusetts State Police, that’s who.” Again, her cheeks heated. “And his K-9 sidekick.”

Tess straightened on the stool. “Are you telling me a state trooper and his dog found you naked in the shower?” She struggled to keep from grinning.

“Of course not.” She rolled her eyes. “I was wearing a bathing suit. I don’t normally wash dogs in the buff. The important thing is that he was pointing a gun at me, and I thought his dog—which turned out to be a very nice dog—was going to tear me to shreds.”

“Was it that old blue string bikini? That thing doesn’t cover much.” Tess laughed. “Was he hot?”

Andi let out an exasperated breath. “No.” Yes. In a rugged, tough-guy way, though admitting it—even to herself—really chapped her ass. “Anyway, since they took my phone, I have no way of contacting Joe. I’ll keep the DPC’s business cell phone with me at all times, so if he calls on the landline, come get me right away. Can you do that, please?”

Tess hunched her shoulders, holding up both hands in a defensive posture. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. And I’m sorry for laughing.” Worry lines creased her brow. “In all seriousness, you need to be careful of police, and especially federal agents.”

Andi paused with the cup midway to her mouth. Where did that come from? While she didn’t want to pry, it sounded disturbingly like Tess had experience in these matters, and that couldn’t be good.

“I’ll let you know if Joe calls. I promise.” Tess squeezed Andi’s shoulder, then her face suddenly brightened. “Your plumber called and said the work on your house is done and you can move back in.”

“Thank God.” That meant she could move out of Joe’s after work.

Since police and federal agents had been crawling through the house and her personal things, she hadn’t relished the idea of sleeping there again. Maybe because Sgt. Houston touched everything in my suitcase. Including the lacy bra and panties she currently wore.

The memory of her panties clinging irreverently to his gun, and his long fingers tossing them onto the bed while a distinct blush crept up his neck and chiseled jaw, nearly had her laughing.

Forget it. Forget him.

She and Tess finished their cappuccinos, then got down to reviewing the weekly specials Marty had left on the bar. But her mind still wasn’t totally focused on business. The tally of evidence against Joe had become too high to ignore. Her heart might be in denial, but her gut knew the truth.

Joe really is laundering money for a gunrunner.

At four thirty that afternoon, Andi took a break before the dinner rush and headed back to Joe’s place to collect her things. As she drove up the driveway, she was reminded of how, not six hours ago, it had been jammed with police vehicles.

She got out of the truck and was headed for the front door when something on the front step caught her eye. A cigarette butt. She hadn’t noticed it earlier. She wrinkled her nose. Using the tip of her sandal, she kicked it into the adjacent flower bed, being careful not touch it with her bare toes. “Disgusting habit.” Odd, but she hadn’t smelled smoke while everyone had been there. Then again, she’d been so freaked out she could easily have missed it.

She pulled Joe’s house key from her shorts pocket and was about to insert it into the lock when she froze. The paint on the doorjamb next to the lock was scratched and scuffed. She distinctly remembered putting the key into the lock that morning to turn the deadbolt, and those marks hadn’t been there.

So who did this? And when?

The back of her neck prickled. She whipped around, expecting to get hit over the head, but no one was there. Her heart rate kicked up, and she tiptoed off the front porch, peeking around the corner to look into the backyard.

Nothing. Empty. Aside from grass.

Her pulse slowed, and she began making her way back to the front door, checking over her shoulder several times along the way. She took a deep breath. The plan was to take a quick look, and if anything was out of place, she’d get the hell out of there.

Her hand trembled as she inserted the key into the lock and turned it. Slowly, she pushed open the door and peeked inside. For a moment she stood there, unable to move as she took it all in.

Oh my God.

She yanked the door shut with enough force that she stumbled backward, nearly falling off the front step. With her heart hammering, she bolted to her truck.