Jennifer looked at Lorene. “He means they’re sleeping together.”
She looked back at Sam. “Looks like a nice girl. So, here’s a tip. If you don’t treat her right you better be packed and out of town before that beast of hers knows about it. I had a friend with a daughter one time, owned one of them Bouvier dogs. She brought home a guy who didn’t know how to behave. Next thing he knows her pet’s got his total attention. Crotch bit, right through his ding-a-ling.”
Laughter burst from Scott before he could control it. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
As they watched, Hugo flew over the first three jumps and then headed for the first tunnel. Out the other side, Hugo followed Cole’s signals
“That’s a lovely soft turn at that jump,” Jennifer commented.
After Hugo cleared a few more obstacles, Jennifer leaned toward Scott again. “See the way she counterrotated back toward her dog on the approach? That was a very nice backy-uppy.”
Scott held his breath as Hugo made the final turn into the jumps. When he had cleared them he came bounding back to leap into Cole’s arms. Amazingly, she caught him, though she staggered around for a few seconds before releasing him.
Jennifer tugged his pants leg. “He wasn’t the fastest time but he won’t be at the back, either. Your lady friend’s got talent. I can tell she’s new at this but she’ll learn.”
“Thanks for the lesson. I’ve got to go congratulate Noel.”
Scott tugged on Izzy’s leash to urge her off but she resisted. It took him only a second to realize she was signing, sitting at attention as she stared intently at Lorene, who was using an electronic cigarette.
He gave a subtle hand signal for Izzy to back off. He couldn’t afford to blow his cover before they’d even begun. She did but looked questioningly at him.
Too bad Izzy couldn’t tell him exactly why she was signing. The older woman could be carrying any of several legally prescribed medications like oxycodone or medical-grade opiates that would be on Izzy’s inventory of drugs to “sign” on when detected in a raid. Besides, Izzy wasn’t one hundred percent correct every time. A record of ten percent false positives in the field was considered an excellent rating for a K-9 drug dog. They should probably just walk away. Or maybe he should confirm his suspicion.
Scott casually took up the slack in Izzy’s leash as he eyed the woman. “What flavor are you smoking, Lorene?”
Lorene’s eyes widened guiltily before she glanced uncertainly at her friend.
“You into vaping?” Jennifer asked quickly.
Scott shook his head. “But Lorene sure looks like she’s enjoying herself.”
Jennifer tried to wiggle up out of her slinglike chair then gave up and waved Scott over to her. When he was close enough she pulled him down by the arm so she could whisper. “Lorene uses THC vapor to help control her spasms from MS. They’ve been giving her fits this morning. It’s legal where she bought it but not everywhere so don’t give us away, okay?”
Scott held up his hands. “None of my business.”
Jennifer grinned and turned to Lorene. “I told you he’s a good guy. I can always spot ’em.”
At that moment, there was a rustle of interest at the opposite side of the ring by the parking lot. The deep bombastic beat of 808 basses shattered the day as the hip-hop sounds of Eye-C blared from some unseen place.
A few seconds later, the music died and Scott watched the crowd part for a woman in a radically cropped tee and batik-printed drawstring harem pants hanging off spectacular hips and showing lots of toned caramel skin stretched over smooth abs. Shajuanna Collier was in the house.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“What do you mean I can’t participate?”
Cole, who was signing off as having completed the ring course, looked up in amazement. Shajuanna Collier, the person she was tasked with befriending, was standing next to her.
Shajuanna pointed at the registrar inside the booth and then pointed that same sequin-studded fingernail at the paperwork in her hand. “Shujaa is listed to compete in the Excellent A Agility level.” She pointed to the dog at heel on her leash. “Shujaa is here. I am here. We are ready.”
Cole glanced past the striking woman to the Argentine mastiff named Shujaa. People found Hugo intimidating, with cause. But this was a different kind of brute. A hundred pounds of muscle budged beneath its short pure-white coat, leaving no doubt the jaws in his massive head could easily snap the bones of the toy poodle being hurried past in its owner’s protective embrace.
However, Cole noted, Shujaa seemed at ease. That could be because he and his owner were accompanied by a seven-foot-tall wall of muscle in a suit.
Cole flicked her gaze back to the registrar, who responded. “The rules state that the team handler must come in person to pick up his or her registration so that the judges can review the dog for eligibility.” She was eyeing Shujaa with some trepidation.