“Yeah, pretty much.”
She glanced down and realized her jeans were muddy at the knees and ankles, her boots caked, and her hair drenched like Creed’s, despite her FBI ball cap. She had her overnight bag slung over her shoulder and even with her windbreaker zipped up she was starting to feel a chill.
“Jason told me about you getting caught in a slide yesterday. Are you okay?”
“You saw Jason?”
Before she could explain, a man coming out the side door of the gymnasium interrupted them.
“Dogman!” he called out to Creed. “I’ve been waiting for you to get back.”
The man was shorter than Creed but lean and muscular. A bit older. White-blond hair, cut military short on the sides with a flap of bangs. He wore a leather bomber jacket, khaki pants, and expensive hiking boots that O’Dell immediately noticed didn’t have a spot of mud on them.
“Peter Logan.” He stuck out his hand for hers, then crushed it in his.
“So you’re Logan,” she said, returning the firm grip and watching his surprise. Actually, she didn’t mind the crusher grip. She’d rather that than the soft, patronizing handshake that most men in authority extended to women colleagues. “I have quite a few questions for you.”
He cocked his head at her and managed to keep his fake smile as he shot a look at Creed.
“I’m Agent Maggie O’Dell.”
Realization came over his face. “Oh, so you’re Ben’s girlfriend.”
O’Dell felt the rush of heat travel up her neck.
42.
Peter Logan was an asshole and Creed wasn’t surprised to see that he hadn’t changed in the seven years since he’d seen him last.
“You two know each other?” He looked from Creed to O’Dell and back to Creed, eyebrows raised like there was something inappropriate going on.
“We’ve worked a couple of cases,” Maggie told him.
Creed wasn’t sure if he was irritated at Logan because he had embarrassed Maggie or because Logan knew more about the man who had an obvious hold on her heart.
Logan saw Grace. “What’s the deal, dogman? You bring the smallest dog you could possibly find to do a job for me? He doesn’t look like he’s even fifteen pounds soaking wet.”
Grace growled at him. Creed could feel the hair on the back of her neck rise up.
“Her name’s Grace. And no, she’s not working your project.”
“Yeah, I heard you didn’t show up at the site.” Hands on his hips as if he still had a platoon to order around.
“Jason and Bolo did a great job,” Maggie said before Creed could answer.
Only then did Creed realize she was the FBI agent sent to supervise Logan’s secret project.
“Yes, I heard you had a productive afternoon.” He wagged his head at Maggie in what Creed recognized as his familiar gesture of giving praise. That was about all anyone would get for pleasing him.
Grace was still rigid under Creed’s arm, stiff-arming her paw against his arm. He could feel the slight vibration of a low, continuous growl. She was probably feeding off of Creed’s animosity toward Logan.
“Until those floodwaters are reined in we won’t be able to do much more,” Maggie said.
Logan’s eyes darted around. Clearly he wasn’t comfortable discussing it in the open, even though Creed could see no one paying attention to them. Even Dr. Avelyn had gone over to the trailer set up for her and the others.
“We can talk about that later,” Logan told Maggie.
“Yes, that would be good if we could talk. I have some questions.”
“I’m sure you do.” He laughed like there was a private joke between them. “You go get cleaned up. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Morning?” Maggie was visibly irritated. She glanced back at the Decon line, which had gotten considerably shorter. “We should be finished in twenty to thirty minutes. Maybe we can talk over dinner. I heard they have a meal and a cot for us.”
Logan grinned and shook his head. “I’m afraid I won’t be staying here. I have other accommodations. But I’ll see you both in the morning.”
To Creed he said, “And I expect you up on the site tomorrow. Not one of your surrogates.” Then, as if he hadn’t just registered a chewing out, he added, “Good to work with you again, dogman.”
He reached out to slap Creed on the shoulder and Grace lunged for his hand, teeth bared, a growl deep in her throat.
Logan’s eyes went wide before Creed settled her back against his chest.
“Good grief, dogman. Send that little bitch back home.”
“She saved an elderly woman today who probably would have died if Grace hadn’t found her.”
Fake smile still planted on his face, but now with teeth gritted, Logan told Creed, “Yeah, well, I’m not paying you to find elderly women.”
He headed toward the street where Creed could see headlights waiting for him.
Maggie watched him leave, then turned back to Creed and said, “He’s a real piece of work. Are you two friends?”
“Not even close. I owe him a favor and he’s collecting it.”
43.