George, who had been at Bridget’s feet, uncurled himself, stood, barked and wagged his tail.
“Yes, yes, that’s you, too, George, and I’m sorry I overslept and took so long to let you out,” Marnie told him, pausing to scratch his ears.
“I didn’t hear him. He wasn’t making a sound. If I’d thought of it, I could have let him out,” Bridget said. “You don’t sleep much lately.”
“No one seems to sleep much lately,” Marnie said.
Her fingers were trembling as she poured her coffee. He hadn’t spoken yet, but she felt McFadden watching her. How was she going to deal with this?
Act! she told herself. She had been nominated several times and received an Emmy. Surely, she could manage this.
She took a seat at the table.
“Good morning,” he said.
It seemed like there was so much implication in those two words. Good morning, yes, morning, when she’d thrown herself at him last night and now felt...embarrassed, maybe beyond, such as a little humiliated, and still...alive, awake and madly attracted.
She reminded herself that he was here because someone might well be trying to kill her.
And because he couldn’t take any more torment from his dead mother.
“Are you okay?” he asked her.
She nodded. “Of course, and thank you so much. I had George at the foot of my bed all night.”
“You made him sleep on the floor?” Bridget asked, horrified. “I’d have kept him up in bed with me and squeezed him and hugged and...”
“Called him George!” Marnie said, laughing. “I didn’t make him sleep on the floor. He just kind of immediately curled up there.”
“He was probably used to sleeping that way with his old master,” McFadden said. “He is a guard dog. We acquired a phenomenal dog when I was in Afghanistan. He was a street mutt who attached himself to my unit. He saved a buddy from a sniper attack.”
“Wow. What was his name?” Bridget asked. “And then when you left what happened to him?”
“Friends pulled some strings. I brought him home with me. His name was Dog.”
“Clever, full of imagination,” Marnie said, sipping her coffee.
“Yes, right. He was hanging around a long time before we actually took him in, and I knew I was going to fight to bring him home,” McFadden said. “We’d been calling him Dog—I just kept calling him Dog.”
“Just like Mad Max!” Bridget said.
“I guess,” McFadden said, looking at Marnie.
“Please! You’ve seen The Road Warrior, right?” Bridget asked.
He turned to her, smiling. “I’ve seen it. And I’ve heard that blue heeler in the movie was a rescue dog and was so loved by the cast and crew that he was adopted by the stunt coordinator.”
“I think that’s true,” Marnie said. “What did happen to your guy, Dog?”
“He died.”
“Oh, no,” Bridget cried.
“Natural causes and old age. My vet estimated that he was somewhere between fifteen and seventeen years old when I lost him.”
“Oh, that’s a beautiful story!” Bridget said.
“Careful—she’ll have your story threaded through Zombie Flesh Eaters from Outer Space or some other such flick if you let her.”
“Hey,” Bridget said, “that’s not a bad title. Not a bad title at all. When I have the full story for it and run it past the execs, I’ll let you know. It will definitely feature a hero who has rescued a great dog.”
“That’s no idle threat,” Marnie told McFadden.
“That’s not a threat!” Bridget protested.
“That’s no idle promise,” Marnie corrected, and for a moment the three of them laughed.
“I’m going to need to go,” Bridget said. “We can’t survive if we don’t work. And I’m one of those lucky people who actually loves to go to work. What I do is fun, and the people I work with are great. And I don’t think it’s me that anyone is after...” Her voice trailed off. All sense of laughter was gone. She looked at Marnie with misery in her eyes.
“Your wheels will be here in just a minute,” McFadden said.
“Her wheels?” Marnie asked.
“I have friends coming. That way we can investigate and keep you both safe,” he said.
“And who are your friends?” Marnie asked, her tone a bit skeptical.
Living or dead? she was tempted to ask.
McFadden smiled, as if reading her thoughts. “Actually, my friends are with the FBI, a special unit. You’re going to like them.”
As if aware that this was Hollywood and they were supposed to appear on cue, there was a short horn blast outside, followed by the sound of footsteps up the walk.
George’s ears perked up, then he barked.
There was a knock at the door.
“It’s all right, boy. Friends are arriving,” McFadden said.
The two women followed McFadden as he went to let the expected callers in. Marnie stood just behind him, curious.
They could have been actors, they were such startlingly beautiful people.
She was a blonde, slim and yet shapely, wearing a pin-striped pantsuit very well. He was dark-haired and tall, his American Indian heritage apparent in the handsome structure of his cheeks.
“Jackson Crow and Angela Hawkins, meet Marnie Davante and Bridget Davante—cousins. This side of the duplex is Marnie’s. Bridget lives right next door. Marnie, you might know from her appearances on the screen. Bridget, you might not know so easily, but I understand she is responsible for many a hit on the newest sci-fi channel. Oh, and the furry pile of slobber and integrity at my feet is George. He’s the new guard dog.”
“Handsome brute,” Jackson noted.
Angela and Jackson entered, and then handshakes went around, along with compliments on Marnie’s performances. And the FBI agents had done their homework. They even knew which shows Bridget had worked on, and they were quick to praise her, as well.
Then it all simmered down.
“You did it—you really got here in time to go with Bridget to work,” McFadden said.
“It’s nice when the head of your specialized unit happens to be extremely wealthy and gives you access to his private jet,” Jackson said.
“It’s pretty cool. We can be just about anywhere quickly,” Angela agreed.
“You’re FBI?” Marnie asked.
“We are.”
“And...you’re from...?”
“Northern Virginia. We’re part of a specialized unit with our offices in Alexandria now. We’ve moved around a few times. We’ve grown considerably over the years.” She glanced over at her husband. “Jackson is our field director.”
“I handle queries that come in and determine what is appropriate for us and what is not, and look over the cases we’ve been asked to come in on. The federal mandate has changed greatly over the past decade or so, and we actually have more leeway around the country, but...at the moment, Angela and I are here as tourists.”
“But not to worry,” Angela said. “We have our director working on it, so we should have an invite to investigate very soon.”
“Um, okay,” Marnie said. “Anyway, welcome. Would you like some coffee? Breakfast?”
“Not for me. Bridget, I believe you need to get to work. I’m your companion for the day,” Angela said. “We’re all set to go. I’ll drive and you can navigate. I’m not really familiar with the area.”
“I can drive,” Bridget said.
“No,” Marnie told her. Her cousin gave her a curious glance. “It has to do with ducking,” she added sagely.
“Oh,” Bridget said, but looked like she had no idea what Marnie meant. She would probably ask Angela once they were out on the road.
“I’ll be home early. The alarm company is coming,” Bridget said, twisting to speak as she followed Angela back out the door.
“Well, I would have some coffee,” Jackson said.
“Of course,” Marnie told him, heading back to the kitchen. The men followed—after McFadden checked that the front door was once again securely locked.
George barked an approval.
Marnie noticed that even the dog seemed willing to follow McFadden around and take his every cue from him. Maybe that was a good sign—dogs tended to be much better at judging people than other people were.