Page 4 of K-9 Guardians

Headquarters itself looked as though it’d come from space. All sharp corners, dark windows and mystery. At any moment, a large metal ramp could descend to reveal the alien occupants inside.

“Didn’t realize you guys liked to throw parties.” Agent Elsher—King—leaned forward in the front seat. She’d confirmed his credentials by cloning his phone to hers. Not exactly legal, considering he was a federal agent of the highest order, but she wasn’t going to use the data against him. King Elsher, thirty-eight, served with the DEA for the past six years. Former cop from Seattle. Not a whole lot of activity in recent calls, but there’d been quite a change in his expenses over the past few months. A large increase in spending without anything to show for it. At least, not yet.

Something she’d have to dig into deeper when she had a few minutes to herself. Because that was where it started. Where the cartel liked to add pressure. It’d happened too many times than she wanted to count. Financials were the easiest way to corrupt even the best officers and agents. She once fought to give most people the benefit of the doubt, but she’d been burned one too many times.

“And here I’m just now finding out I wasn’t invited,” he said.

She tried to stop her mouth from hiking at one corner into a smile, but there was no stopping it. Despite her personal suspicions and need to unearth every small detail of a person’s life before she trusted them, King was easy to talk to. Didn’t hurt that they shared that same sarcastic and detached sense of humor, either. Like seeking like, and all that brain science. “Oh, yeah. It’s a rager. Been going for weeks with no end in sight. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if you joined. They’ve been recruiting as many as they can into the We Hate Socorro fan club.”

“The people here are really pissed, aren’t they?” King distanced himself away from the window as Scarlett slowed to break through the growing crowd.

“They’re scared. And with good reason. Seems every mission we carry out against Sangre por Sangre is returned tenfold,” she said. “Only we’re not the only ones who reap the consequences.”

The herd had moved to stop her from entering the parking garage. Two operatives—she recognized Jones and Granger—took positions on either side of the entrance to ensure trespassers couldn’t slip in unnoticed. Her teammates faced off with the verbal assaults without so much as responding.

Someone hit their hand against the back window of Scarlett’s SUV. Then another. Each punctured deep through her nervous system and spiked her heart rate.

Posters with crude writing demanded Socorro leave while others threatened individual agents. Since the senator’s accusations two weeks ago, every one of these people had taken up the mantle to protect themselves the best way they could. No matter how illogical their strategy.

“But fear can be far more dangerous than any perceived threat,” Scarlett said.

King didn’t have an answer to that.

Scarlett heaved a sigh of relief as she maneuvered the SUV down into the belly of the garage. Darkness slipped over the windshield, suddenly making the cabin that much more intimate. Without her full vision, her senses picked up on other things. Like how King had set his arm on the center console dividing their seats. Even the slight hint of dirt and cologne she’d gotten a lungful of when he’d fallen on top of her in the morgue seemed more intense. Not entirely unpleasant.

No. Wait. That might be coming from her vest after he tackled her.

“You sure you still want to get involved with Socorro?” She pulled the vehicle in front of the elevators and cut the engine. Shouldering out of the SUV, she hit the pavement and strode to the keypad she had personally upgraded as soon as the picketers set up shop outside. The garage door rolled to a close at the head of the ramp, both of her teammates now inside. “We’re not exactly popular right now. Could kick back onto you and the DEA.”

King met her at the keypad, the tendons linked between his neck and shoulders strung tight. She’d talked with him long enough to understand he was in unknown territory, putting his career on the line. Why else would he turn to Socorro rather than the DEA? “I don’t have any other choice.”

This wasn’t about competing with local law enforcement for jurisdiction over his partner’s investigation. There was something more he wasn’t telling her. Something only she could give him. Hesitation closed in around her throat. She’d been used once before. She wasn’t eager to experience it a second time. Scarlett pressed her hand onto the print reader. The elevators engaged, their polished shiny silver doors parting down the middle. She motioned him inside the car. “After you.”

They took the elevator to the fourth floor and stepped out into a cavern of black. The cameras she’d installed in every corner catalogued more than their faces. Her top-of-the-line security analyzed body heat, a person’s walk and homed in on any weapons they might be carrying. Which, around her, was usually a lot. Ivy Bardot would know they were coming. There wasn’t a single detail that woman missed inside this building or out.

“You have to give me the number of your decorator.” King seemed to be taking everything in but most especially the locations of each of her cameras and which turns they made away from the elevators. Planning for an escape. Just as she would. “I never thought black on black could be so...”

“Absurd? Yeah, me neither. At least not until I moved in here.” Scarlett guided him around one corner and toward the penthouse office at the end of the corridor.

It was odd, having someone to talk to while she walked these halls. Like she’d invited King into her personal space. Every inch of these walls had felt her touch as she ensured nothing could hurt her and her team. She was the only one who preferred to stay in the building, out of sight. It was where she did her best work.

“Operatives live here.” A hint of disbelief crept into his voice, and it was under these too-bright florescent lights that Scarlett finally got a good look at King Elsher. Not encumbered by a possible concussion or the limited view in the SUV.

Lean muscle banded around his neck and sprawled down into his chest. He took care of himself, that much was clear. His T-shirt—far more worn than she would have expected—kept the last few remnants of a design over his heart. But whether he wore it for its personal connection or because he couldn’t afford anything newer, she didn’t know. That was where an audit of his finances would come in handy. Light-colored hair had been closely shaved up the sides of his head, leaving a mop of controlled curls at the top. He’d retained a sense of boyishness in his features, soft in some areas. Around his mouth, for example. But experience had hardened the skin and shape of his eyes.

“Voluntarily?” he asked.

“Makes the most sense for us. My team takes shifts where we’re on call twenty-four-seven. So we each have a bedroom with a connected bathroom, we share a communal kitchen. Though one of my teammates will gut you with a whisk if you try to mess anything up in there and probably smile while doing it. We have a theater room for downtime, an on-call physician in case of emergency, a gym with every machine known to man and a food delivery service. Even a vet who takes care of our K9s. We have everything we need.” Scarlett heard the pride in her own voice. Out of all the places she could’ve ended up after her last tour, Socorro was the only one that’d thrown her a lifeline. For her, this was more than she deserved. “We’re all former military. We like to be ready when we’re needed.”

“So what you’re saying is, you live inside your own end-of-the-world bunker, and you’re preparing to take over the world without ever having to leave.” King nodded in appreciation. “I like it.”

“Stick around long enough, I’ll introduce you to Hans and Gruber.” She shoved through the conference room door, holding it open for him over the threshold.

Confusion warped those handsome features. He lowered his voice. “Is that code for...you know.” He nodded to her chest. “Because I should tell you I’m not really in a position for a relationship right now. My partner was just found murdered, and—”

“Agent Elsher.” Ivy Bardot stepped out from behind the conference room table. “As interesting as your relationship status is, I think there are more important topics we should discuss.”

Granger’s failed attempt to keep his laugh to himself filled the room.

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