Hearts Unleashed Page 2

  “Koda! Come here, girl!” She crouched to welcome her friend and give her a good scratch.

  The dog ran straight to John, jumping on him. She whined and barked, trying to lick his face, her tail wagging so fast it was a blur.

  Katie’s jaw went slack, her brain formulating no thoughts. She closed her mouth then looked at her toes. “Koda?” was all she could say.

  Her dog had never done this for anyone. She’d taken months to get used to Katie and her dad, and had only recently warmed up to Linda. Katie watched numbly as Koda fawned over a complete stranger.

  John laughed, rubbing the dog behind the ears and going down on one knee to half-wrestle her to the ground.

  “She certainly likes you.” Confusion colored her dad’s voice.

  “Yeah, I guess she does. I–I like her, too.” John kept his head down and scratched just under Koda’s armpits, her favorite spot. Her foot thumped in the air in ecstasy.

  “John’s our new foreman,” Dad said as Linda walked over. “I guess Koda’s telling me I made a good choice.”

  John looked up, about to reply, and groaned. The dog had taken advantage of his distraction to wash his face with her tongue. Everyone laughed. Except Katie.

  “You some kind of dog whisperer, John?” Dad joked. “I’ve never seen that dog take to anyone so quick.”

  Koda stared up at John like he was a long-lost friend. Could he have known her before? If he’d fostered her as a pup or something, he would say so—not act as though he was as surprised as anyone at the love the dog was showing him.

  A whine brought Katie’s attention back to the scene in front of her. Koda lay on her back, begging with shining eyes for a belly rub. She felt an ache, remembering how long it had taken before the dog felt comfortable enough at the ranch to ask for belly scratches. If Koda trusts the man this much, he can’t be that bad. She pushed the thought aside. “Come on, Koda. Let’s go inside.”

  The dog reluctantly rolled to her feet and trotted a few paces but then stopped, looking back at John.

  “It’s okay,” John said, still resting on one knee. “You can go.”

  Color drained from her face as her inner peace shattered.

  How could Koda do this?

  In another minute, the panic would be a deluge of ice water surrounding every limb, creeping higher until it passed her mouth and nose, leaving her gasping for air but not being able to do a damn thing about it. And eventually it would shut down her body as fast as punching a reset button. She needed to get out of there. Before anyone saw her break.

  “Koda! Come. Now!”

  She spun and ran across the yard, her heart hammering like it belonged to a rabbit running for its life, Koda trotting along at her side.

  Chapter 2

  John pulled in to the local dive bar lot and shifted the car into park with a sense of relief. No doubt his mother would have words to say about his drinking once he got home. But tonight, he was celebrating. He’d found Koda. He grinned, remembering how the dog’s eyes had lit up and how she ran right to him. She remembers. Koda remembers me.

  After their last mission, he and Koda had been unceremoniously dumped from the military. He’d wanted to adopt her, but by the time he’d taken care of the red tape surrounding his return to civilian life, she was gone, assigned to a civilian family.

  He undid his belt, leaning back in the driver’s seat as a wave of exhaustion hit him. He’d been holding out for this day ever since he’d left the hospital. Ever since Fort Bragg messed up and adopted Koda out to a civilian family. Handlers always have first rights. Unable to trace her adoptive family through his military ties, he hadn’t given up. He’d turned to social media in an attempt to find his indispensable K9 partner. John closed his eyes, picturing the image he’d plugged into Facebook of him and Koda together. She lolled on the roof of a Humvee, tongue hanging to the side of her mouth as if she was grinning. He leaned up against the vehicle right next to her—the same vehicle that was destroyed by a cheaply made Improvised Explosive Device just a few weeks later.

  He knew his chances were slim. His therapy sessions over the last three months revolved around his ability to handle never finding her. And after nine months of searching, he’d come close to losing hope. Until today.

  Shutting his eyes, he replayed the moment when she bounded up to him, and he knew—knew she hadn’t forgotten him any more than he could forget her. He felt her rough tongue scrape his cheek and laughed.

  He finally found her.

  But he could still lose her. He winced; the Lockes were her legal owners now. And while Mitch was a nice guy—maybe even a little too nice—his daughter was another story altogether.

  His mouth soured. Katie might look delicate, but her sidelong glances had been sharp as nails. She’d sized him up pretty quickly. He could make no mistakes around her—not if he wanted to be near Koda. It was clear from her outburst that his former partner was much more to her than a ranch dog. There was no way she’d give Koda up without a fight. Hell, she’d probably even fire him to keep him away from the dog.

  He shifted in his seat. He needed this job. Thinking of Katie brought up a spark of annoyance. Her possessiveness irritated him, even if she didn’t know Koda was far more than just a dog to him. He could not see her taking the news that Koda was his canine partner well at all—hell, she’d barely tolerated him standing in their barn. Still, I know Koda’s safe and happy—and working at the ranch, I’ll see her every day. It was enough—for now.

  Like hail on a glass pane, the drumming of his fingers was as relentless as it was loud, trying to still his mind. Each thump on the dashboard echoed the tumultuous thudding of his heartbeat. He couldn’t shake off her words—or her soft, inviting lips. Rich dark brown hair fell in waves around a delicate face, made even softer by the absurd sunglasses she wore. Her hand, so soft within his, was taut with a tension she refused to reveal. Her ass, outlined by her tight jeans, had swayed as she stormed out of the barn. A small fire ignited within his belly and instantly his mouth went as dry as stale bread. She’s hot. So what? No guy wanted to be shot down by a woman—particularly a beautiful woman.

  But is it the fact she’s hot that makes it sting? Or is it that you know she’s right? John stiffened. Foreman? Yeah, right. Let’s see how long this lasts.

  He quickly climbed out of his car, but it was too late. His jubilation at finding Koda had faded, replaced with a feeling of dread. He made for the bar, pushing his shoulders back as he approached the door. He’d found Koda. Nothing else mattered.

  The bar’s wooden door creaked as he opened it. The sallow light of streetlamps trickled in through the windows. The stench of stale beer and body odor rose to greet him. Along the wall was every hue of amber liquid in their inverted bottles; every vice his therapist recommended he avoid. He took a deep breath and headed toward the large mahogany bar. Not crowded. Good.

  A blonde perched on a stool at the end of the bar. Her eyes playfully danced over his figure, and he fumbled as he pulled up a stool in the middle. The woman might be interested now, but she had no idea what she would see if he took off his shirt—much less his jeans. He caught the bartender’s eye. “A Yuengling. Thanks.”

  The beer went down easily. He ordered another.

  “And I’ll have an Orange Butterfly.” The blonde climbed onto the stool next to him. “What’s your name?” She lolled her head to one side, flashing him a flirtatious smile.

  “John.” He forced himself to breathe out. Like his therapist said, he had to start making friends. Now that he’d found Koda, maybe it was time to move on. “What’s yours?”

  “Melissa.” Stacks of silver bangles covered her wrists, clinking together as she twiddled her hair in a seemingly absentminded way. “Whatcha celebratin’?”

  “New job.” I’m so goddamn rusty at this. He hadn’t been with a woman in so long that even casual flirting felt exhilarating. And casual flirting is the most I can hope for. He still enjoyed the female form and sex
was on his mind as much as it had ever been, but since that mission last year, things had changed. Most nights he sat in front of the TV drinking—and with good reason.

  The several surgeries following the explosion that wrecked the Humvee had saved his life at the expense of his body. His legs and hip were a mangled mass of scarring. Any woman who got one good look at him wouldn’t be yelling for more—she’d be running for the Pryor Mountains, screaming the entire way.

  “Lost in your thoughts?” Melissa interrupted as she inched closer to him, gently taking his wrist in her hand. “Must be quite some job.”

  A jolt of electricity shot through where she touched him. “Yeah. It is.” He winced. Way to smooth talk the ladies.

  “I noticed you limping. How’d you get hurt?” She swirled the straw around the half empty glass of her fruity vodka drink. “Car wreck? Snow skiing? Motorcycle accident?”

  “Army.” He took a long pull of the cold beer.

  “Oh. Did you ever kill anyone?”

  Why was that always the first thing someone asks? He would never get used to such a question. He pushed down his annoyance, summoning a jaunty wink. “Not yet.”

  “What happened?” She gazed right at him.

  “IED.”

  “Well, that’s no fun.” She set down her drink. “Want another beer?”

  He didn’t have time to answer. She’d already waved the bartender over.

  “Same as before. For both of us.”

  He raised an eyebrow as the bartender placed their drinks in front of them. “I didn’t say I wanted another beer.”

  “You didn’t have to. I know what a man wants.” She lowered her mouth to her straw, sucking aggressively.

  He was able to smother his laugh, but not able to hide his grin. He turned, taking a gulp of the Yuengling to hide his amusement, but he wasn’t fast enough.

  “What’s so funny?” She pushed out her red lips just a little, looking up at him through her eyelashes. “I’m serious.”

  “I’m sure you are. It’s just—” John motioned to the straw. “My ex-wife used to do the same thing.”

  Morgan had thought it made her look sexy, but the first time she’d done it, John had assumed she’d accidentally ordered something sour. When he told Dirk about it later, he’d laughed. From then on he’d referred to Morgan as “lemon-lips” and John had struggled to suppress a laugh every time she repeated her “sexy” trick. And Dirk—

  Dirk.

  He had a glimpse of Dirk’s eyes crinkling as he turned his head toward John, lips moving to deliver a wisecrack. But the words never came. There was a flash of light and John threw his arm up instinctively—

  The sound of crashing glass brought his attention back to the bar. He stared at the broken bottle on the floor in front of him. His chest heaved, as if his lungs were slowly filling with water. He sucked in air as if it were molasses, each rapid breath a stabbing pain in his chest.

  “What the hell, soldier?”

  It wasn’t his commander, it was Melissa, her pretty lips grimacing as she drew back her chair. Her nose wrinkled as she wiped spilled beer off her stockings.

  “It was an accident.” He fought to get his voice under control. “Guess I just put my arm out without thinking.”

  Around them, the other occupants resumed their conversations. John suddenly realized how silent the bar had been. Was everyone watching? Heat crawled up from his chest to his neck, cheeks, and ears.

  “No harm done.” The bartender stepped out from behind the bar with a dustpan and brush. He cleaned up the glass, dropping a towel over the puddle of beer. “Want another?”

  “No thanks.” John stared at his hands, putting down a wad of notes on the counter. “Think I’m done.”

  “Hey—”

  Ignoring Melissa’s protest, he staggered out of the bar. Cold, crisp air blew through him, chilling his bones. Brittle red and brown leaves whirled past him in frenzied tornadoes. He lurched toward the car as if he were back in the hospital, learning how to walk. The cool metal of his mother’s car was a welcome relief against the fire pounding through his chest. His lip curled with disgust. So much for celebrating . . . or even making friends. Just one more bar he’d never be coming back to.

  “Where are you going in such a hurry?” A warm hand touched his arm. “Don’t you know it’s rude to leave a lady hanging?”

  The soft curve of Melissa’s breast rested against his arm as she leaned into him, even as her perfume teased his senses. “I’m sorry. But I need to go home.”

  Her hand rested on his hip, her eyes raked over his body. “You did say . . . ex-wife?” She licked her lips.

  At any other time, the gesture would have sent his heartbeat into overdrive. A hot woman interested in him—he’d be a fool not to take her up on her invitation. “Look. Melissa. I’m not your type.”

  “Big, strong, tough—honey, you’re exactly my type.”

  Strong? John swallowed bile at the back of his throat. “You’re wrong. You don’t know me.”

  “I know men.” The soft pressure of her lips against his sent an ache through him. He struggled to hold back the ferocious hunger that overtook him. It’s been too long. Melissa’s body pressed against his, warm, willing, eager.

  The memory of soft lips pressed together in a scowl jumped before his eyes. Katie Locke’s sharp appraisal of his weakness rushed over him. He stepped back, taking a deep breath. This wasn’t right.

  “What’s the matter?” Melissa’s tongue ran the length of her upper lip.

  He winced. “I’m not who you think I am.”

  She stared at him. Her eyes were dark. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m messed up. Big time. The IED was loaded with shrapnel. I’ve got burns, scars where they had to dig metal out of me.” He swallowed, quickly. Now was not the time to remember that. “I’ll make you sick.”

  She frowned. “You’re sure about that? A lot of women find a scar sexy, you know.”

  He glared at her. “This isn’t a beauty scratch. Even my own mother winces when she sees them.”

  She laughed, low and throaty, and—despite the situation—sent a wave of lust through John. “Well, I’m not your mother.” She stepped back from the truck, snapping her fingers. “Show me, big boy.”

  He blanched. “What—right here in the parking lot?”

  Her lip curled. “I’m not asking you to strip. Just take your shirt off. So I know you’re not giving me the push—or are you scared of little old me?” She batted her lashes.

  He fought the urge to roll his eyes. Morgan had thought that was an endearing habit too. “I don’t need to prove anything to you.”

  But what if she was right? What if there was a possibility a woman could be interested in him, even with his scars?

  His heart started to pound. He’d had one attempt at a hook-up, back when he was fresh out of the hospital, and hadn’t tried since. Maybe this time will go better. His stomach twisted as he pulled his t-shirt and sweater over his head in one movement. The cold air prickled his exposed skin. He stood at attention, waiting for her to speak, to react—to do anything.

  “Oh my god.” Her voice was choked, faint. She stretched out a hand toward him, then abruptly snatched it back as if she’d been burned. “What is this?”

  He swallowed. She was staring at his ugliest wounds–raised, bumpy, and aggressively slicing into his skin.

  “I told you. An IED exploded near me,” he growled, a sharp edge to his voice.

  “You said scars! This—this is horror movie territory.” There was no mistaking the disgust in her voice. His eyes turned away, but not before catching the utter repulsion on her face. “You had the nerve to waste my time!” Her voice raised in anger. They could probably hear her inside the bar. “Do you even have a dick left?”

  Rage seeped through his veins, his neck corded. His breath was shallow and his nostrils flared. He needed to get out of here, away from the vile creature standing in front of him. Without an
other word, he opened the door of his mother’s car, climbing inside.

  He gritted his teeth, slamming the door shut. Stupid! He slammed his fist on the dashboard and pulled his belt on so viciously it dug into his flesh. As he backed out of the lot and onto the road, the memory of a warm hand, hesitantly resting in his, and softly curling brown hair framing a warm smile as she listened to her dad’s words, returned.

  He forced the image of Katie, looking up at him, her lips parted, a soft blush stealing over her face, out of his mind. It hadn’t taken her long to realize he’d been damned lucky to get the job as foreman. If she suspected what he was hiding . . . he swallowed. Katie can never find out Koda was my partner. Not if he wanted to keep Koda in his life.

  Chapter 3

  The sun streamed in through the curtains like a flamboyant guest, not waiting for an invitation, hitting Katie right in the face. Time to get up. She wished she could be a kid again, not a twenty-five-year-old unable to sleep in. Not that she’d ever slept late. As a kid, most days she’d been awake before Dad. Always excited to tag along.

  Her body wouldn’t move from the bed. Her muscles didn’t ache. Nothing was broken. Her mind was the problem. Or more the fact she’d be working with John was the problem.

  This is ridiculous.

  She rolled over in her slovenly sheets as the morning light continued to hiss in her face. Her disheveled hair scattered across her pillow. In the basket at the foot of the bed, Koda stirred. Knowing the dog was present usually made her feel secure. This morning, the sound made her frown.

  She couldn’t get over how Koda had instantly taken to John. Why am I jealous? She crinkled her nose. It had almost seemed as if the two already knew each other. But that’s not possible. If he’d encountered Koda before, during a tour of duty, surely he would have said so, right?

  She tossed once more, sighing at the image of him, his face creased in pleasure as Koda licked his hand, rose in her mind. The last thing she wanted was a strange man who had free access to the ranch. A man who would be staying here from time to time, just yards from her home, in the bunkhouse. A man she knew nothing about except that he was a military veteran.