Scott, who managed to lounge on the hard unforgiving chair his ex had abandoned, frowned. Two minutes before, she had stormed out past him without a reply. “Why? Who’s the target?”
His superior toyed with the pencil on his desk. Scott knew it wasn’t nervousness powering Lattimore’s fingers. It was a diversion while he calculated how much to reveal. That bland expression on his everyman’s face hid a sharp and perceptive mind. He was an old hand in the bureau, and tough as nails. “Let’s just say our prime target is a young, wealthy, and hip female.”
“How hip?”
“Hip-hop hip.”
Scott got a mental picture of Beyoncé, followed by one of Nikki in her unisex police officer’s uniform. Okay. Big gap. But he knew something practically no one else knew about her. “What if I can bring her up to speed?”
Lattimore’s eyebrows climbed to skeptical heights. “Officer Jamieson said no in terms that left no gaps between the n and the o.”
“True. But I know her. She’ll want this. Give me a few days.”
Lattimore seemed to consider it, for three seconds, before shaking his head. “We don’t have much time. The series of canine competitions we hope to insert our undercover operation into begins in just three weeks. We can’t train a green agent to play against type, bring her up to speed on the technical aspects of the competitions, and set up sufficient covert surveillance in that space of time.”
“She won’t be surveillance. That’s my job. You need a female agent who can believably compete on the dog competition circuit. As you know from the department research, there aren’t half a dozen females in law enforcement East Coast division who’ve had experience. Nikki has. She’s here. She’s ready. As for her appearance? She’s a woman. Change her clothing and hair, you change her attitude.”
Lattimore’s lids lowered. “You’d trust her with your life?”
“Yes.” Scott didn’t allow himself to think before he spoke. He knew the truth would come out. “She’s what you need. Let me prove it.”
Lattimore laughed, as if astonished he was going to give in. “She hates your guts.”
“I noticed.” Scott shrugged. “So when she pulls off what I’m thinking of, it will be proof she’s got the acting skills as well as the canine skills to go undercover.”
Lattimore’s gray eyes turned into ice chips. “How badly did you hurt her?”
“It wasn’t like that.” Scott knew Lattimore was thinking of the awful record of law enforcement personnel whose marriages blew apart because of issues stemming from physical abuse. “Our marriage was collateral damage from my time undercover.”
Lattimore turned and stared out his window so long Scott began to think he was dismissed. When he turned back, his face was grim.
“Don’t lie to her about the risk. Or the likelihood of failure.”
“No, sir.”
“And don’t think I won’t change you out for another team leader if that’s the only way to get her agreement. You are right in that her skill set is the priority. DEA has other K-9 drug teams.”
“Yes, sir.”
Scott was on the other side of the door before allowing himself to consider how he thought he might convince Nikki to let him near her, let alone close enough to make other people believe they were a couple who shared the love of competition in the canine arena.
CHAPTER THREE
“How did you get my address?”
“You forgot this yesterday.” Scott held up the deputy’s hat she’d left behind in Baltimore.
Cole stared at him through the storm door of her home that separated them. “Leave it by the door.”
Instead, he twirled it around his finger.
Cole folded her arms, unimpressed by the smile beneath his reflective shades. He had caught her just as she returned from night patrol or she wouldn’t have bothered to open the door.
Scott whipped off his shades and pocketed them, then reached for the door handle. “I’ve come to tell you about our task force.”
Cole didn’t move to open the door. There was something very intimidating about looking her ex in the eye, even with a locked door between them. Force of personality. Scott had it in spades.
“Why don’t you just tell me from there?”
He slid a finger along the length of the door handle. “If you’re nervous about being alone with me I can wait while you call a fellow officer for backup.”
“That won’t be necessary. Hugo. Hier!”
From deep within the house Scott heard guttural growls followed by deep otherworldly barking that would not have been out of place in a horror movie. Two seconds later, a huge shaggy black canine appeared and struck fist-size paws on the glass of the storm door at chest level. Scott stepped back instinctively, despite the barrier between them. Crap. Nikki’s K-9 partner looked like Batman in a black bear suit.
“Hugo. Platz.” Cole used German, the official language for canine instruction for most police K-9 teams nationwide. That way Hugo would know he was on the job.