As she picked up her fork, she smiled at her friend. “So, what are you rescuing this month? Obviously not hamsters.”
Larissa shook her head. “Not even close. I’m going to be transporting some endangered reptiles.”
Taryn shuddered. “On purpose?”
“It’s just a few trips down to a facility better able to handle them.”
“How do all the causes find you? You must be on every mailing list in the state.”
“I like to help,” Larissa said calmly. “It’s the right thing to do.”
“It’s frequently horrifying. Reptiles? Can you stick to things with fur?”
“Reptiles need love, too.”
“Not from me.”
* * *
ANGEL CLICKED ON his mouse. He’d used a basic CAD program to design an obstacle course for a corporate client. The problem was Justice thought it was too difficult for the average desk jockey. While Angel understood the theory of leaving clients alive so they could come back another time, without real danger, where was the fun?
“Wimps,” he muttered, and made a few more changes. While he wasn’t willing to take out all the good parts, he could put in some places where those not in fighting shape could walk around.
Too bad Justice refused to let him toss live grenades to the side of the course. That would add motivation. He knew from personal experience. His personal best time for a quarter-mile run had been in Africa—while being chased by an angry rhino. Imminent death made for a great workout.
He made a few more changes, then saved his work and forwarded a copy to Justice for approval. He’d just logged in to his email program when someone knocked on his door.
He looked up and saw a tall redhead standing in his doorway. He would guess she was in her mid-to late twenties. Her eyes were green and her skin pale with only a faint dusting of freckles.
“Mr. Whittaker?” she asked, her voice soft.
“Angel,” he said, rising to his feet and wondering what she was doing here. She didn’t look as though she was at CDS to apply for a job. Most of their applicants were lean and muscled. This woman was carrying around an extra twenty-five pounds—although he had to admit, on her, the curves looked good. She also lacked that air of confidence that came from knowing you could kick somebody’s ass.
“I’m Bailey Voss. My daughter, Chloe, is going to be in your grove.”
He held back the curse words that immediately sprang to mind. He figured the practice was good for him, what with working around little girls.
“Yes, Mrs. Voss. Please come in.”
His office was small and windowless. He had a desk and a couple of extra chairs. He’d been offered something larger but hadn’t seen the point. He didn’t like working in an office, and no windows, plants or fancy decorations were going to make his computer time any better. He was the type who preferred to be doing.
“Thank you.” She offered him a shy smile. “Bailey, please.”
She took the seat he offered, then waited until he settled across from her.
She clasped and unclasped her hands. “My daughter is very excited about joining the FWM,” she began, not quite meeting his eyes. “She’s seven. She’s really smart and sweet but...” She bit her lower lip.
Angel was about to ask what was wrong when he realized she was fighting tears. They flooded her green eyes and one slipped out of the corner of her eye.
She cleared her throat. “Sorry. I’m a bit of a mess. The thing is, Chloe hasn’t been herself for a while now. Her dad, my husband, was in the army.” She flashed him a shaky smile. “He’s the reason we moved to town. He had an older uncle here, and Will and I didn’t have any family except for each other and Chloe. He was worried about us on our own while he was gone. So he suggested we move here, to be near his uncle. Where we could have a sense of community.”
She paused. “It’s been great here and Chloe made friends. She was really happy. Then nine months ago, her dad was killed and a few weeks later Will’s uncle passed. All that was rough on both of us. Once school started in September, Chloe seemed better, but over the holidays...” She swallowed. “We both had a difficult time.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Angel said automatically, glancing toward the door. He wanted to bolt. Barring that, he was hoping someone would walk in and interrupt them. Anyone would be better at this than him.
“Thank you. I thought maybe the FWM would be good for her and when she was enthused about it, I signed her up.” She looked at him and more tears filled her eyes. “I’m so worried about Chloe. She’s quiet and doesn’t spend much time with her friends. She’s only seven. I want her to be happy and enjoy her childhood. With the loss of her father, I’m not sure that’s possible.”