Thankfully, they’d gotten the fire out before it spread from her trailer. The trailer, itself, was utterly destroyed along with her laptop, clothes, and what few personal items she’d brought with her. The props tote survived, but only because she’d stored it outside instead of in the trailer. With everything going on, she hadn’t had a chance to sort through it.

Sick and out of sorts with it all, she’d accepted Clayton’s suggestion to stay offsite. Baz and Roger assured her they were going to be beefing up security, and for the first time since the incidences began—she considered sending the whole circus home. Risking real disaster wasn’t an option.

It wasn’t until they were in the truck and driving away that it hit her. “You didn’t tell anyone where we were going, did you?”

“Hank will know,” Clayton said, his attention on the road. Hondo seated between them offered a kind of warm buffer. The dog hadn’t left Clayton’s side once as they pitched into the water line. They had hoses set up for just these kinds of emergencies, but she couldn’t think of a time once in the last twenty years that the circus suffered such a devastating loss.

“Hank will, but no one else. You still think someone connected to the circus is involved.” Anger should have been forthright within her. Though he hadn’t come out and directly accused anyone, his actions spoke volumes. Instead of righteous and protective fury, defeat weighed upon her. Defeat and the stench of smoke. “It’s not Roger. Or Baz.”

“Baz is new to your circus. Not all that long ago he was in the D.C. area, and involved in a news story that nearly got several people killed. Now he’s here.”

Of course he had been. She nibbled at a hangnail.

“Baz is also retired naval intelligence with deep ties,” Clayton continued without a trace of judgment in his voice.

“I know,” she finally answered, her gaze firmly on the dark landscape along their route. Pregnant silence filled the vehicle after her acknowledgment.

“If it’s need to know,” he said, finally. “I need to know.”

“I want to say it’s unconnected. The circus was just a place for Baz to lay low for a few months. He needed to fall off the radar.” At least that was the impression Ned had given her. Of course, he would lie to her if he believed it necessary to achieve the end goals or, at the very least, not germane to why he asked her. “It was a favor for a friend…okay friend is pushing it.” At the moment, she questioned everything.

“Ned Wagner.”

“You know an awful lot about this.” She dragged her gaze off the dark and looked around Hondo. The dashboard lights only partially illuminated his face. The shepherd gave her a kiss on the cheek, a light swipe. Running her fingers through his fur, she gave the dog a scratch just above his collar.

“I’ve been doing some research,” Clayton admitted. “Hank and his guys began to deep dive everyone’s backgrounds.”

Of course they had.

“Including yours.”

Sensing a reckoning, she waited.

“I also asked a friend to pull your records. You’ve got a scrubbed background check, a very thorough and squeaky-clean one. So which did you work for?”

“The circus.” It wasn’t a lie. She’d worked for several of them.

“Wanda,” Clayton’s voice dipped low and a shiver rolled across the surface of her skin. “Is it possible they didn’t scrub you as thorough as it looks? Could someone from a life you didn’t lead in a job you didn’t do for an alphabet agency you won’t admit, be gunning for you?”

Laughter spilled out of her at the absurdity of the question, and she shook her head. “If anyone from a mythical life that didn’t happen on a continent where I worked for the circus, and didn’t do any side jobs for anything resembling an alphabet agency were to come looking—I’d guess they’d be a lot more direct than bloody threats on a trailer door and a fire to drive me out of my trailer.”

“I don’t think it was to drive you out.” No more sobering words had been spoken. “Everything was done to systematically destabilize the production and to throw you off guard—until tonight.”

He turned onto a drive she hadn’t noticed, and killed the lights as he slid to a stop and turned off the truck. Though there was no house in front of them, he sat, half-twisted and looking over his shoulder. Mirroring his position, she stared back at the dark road. He was waiting to see if someone followed them.

“The fire tonight was meant to kill me, wasn’t it?” They could dance around it verbally all they wanted, but since the high wire snapped she’d wondered. She was the only one using the wire in her act. The only person likely to be hurt, was her. Traditionally when she performed, there was no net. It was only her own stubbornness that sent her up to practice after everything while the net was up.

If not…she’d have been a smear on the floor. Or at the very least, a series of broken bones in a hospital.

“I can’t say for certain,” Clayton answered, his gaze still pinned on the road behind them even though no headlights were visible. “But from what I saw, there had to have been an incendiary of some type. It went up too fast. It also wasn’t planted inside your trailer or Hondo would have alerted us.”

Hadn’t the dog wanted to go outside? Tired waged war on her memory, though. “Well, that’s a thoroughly disheartening thought.”

“Sorry, but not sorry. We need to know who or what it is, it’s the only way I’m going to keep you safe.”

“Maybe I need to keep you and everyone else safe. I can disappear.” She did have some weirdly useful skills.

Clayton’s hand covered hers on Hondo. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

The weight of his fingers, and the warmth of them combined with the roughness of the callouses on his hands flooded her with some highly inappropriate thoughts and desire. Like what would it feel like if he were to run those work marked hands all over her?

“Adrenaline fueled couplings aren’t always the best idea.” They burned hot, but also burned fast. She’d rather there was something of her left when all was said and done.

“Maybe, but I’m not feeling the adrenaline rush at the moment.” The blunt reply pulled another smile out of her. She’d endured her fair share of special ops guys, and agency men. They all talked a good game. While they might want a night in her bed, they were also already on the move, one foot out the door to the next assignment or op.

“Who are you Clayton Wall?”

“Call me Brick,” he said softly and the invitation curled through her until the hairs on her arm stood up.

“Brick.”

“Better,” his grin almost audible in his voice. “I’m a Navy SEAL, Wanda. Retired, but I spent the better part of the last seven years giving everything I had to my country. I can’t tell you about the operations, but I’m a decent guy. I’ve got my issues…you saw one tonight.”

The nightmare. It had been Hondo who alerted her just before Brick woke. The dog had risen to lean against the man, his touch grounding him as it was doing right now. The soft sounds of Hondo’s panting filled the interior of the cab, but Brick didn’t release her hand and she wasn’t pulling away.

“A friend of mine suggested I come to Montana, get away from everything. A lot of guys I’ve worked with over the years have retired, medically or just timed out.”

Being a SEAL was brutal on the body and the mind. More failed out of BUD/S than made it through. She’d had to do some courses at FLETC and later on the Farm. She knew enough to be dangerous, and to not accept the challenge to become a full-fledged agent. At her core, she was a pacifist, dark side tendencies aside.

“Are you going to be all right?” She didn’t ask him what happened. If he wanted to tell her, he would. But the man? She liked him. She wanted him to be okay.

“I will,” he said, assurance thickening his voice. “That’s the promise I make to myself everyday.”

“That’s why I got out.” She skated the line of admitting to something she wasn’t supposed to talk about. “I wasn’t going to be okay if I kept going.”

“It happens,” he told her, and gave her hand a squeeze. “Did it work?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted ruefully. Behind them the road remained quiet and dark. “Someone just burned down my trailer, and I’m sitting in the dark wondering what the hell comes next.”

“When I went for BUD/S I did it to see if I could survive the training. It’s one thing to be tapped for it, it’s an entire other thing to make it through.” His voice rolled around her, enveloping her in his confidence. “I learned a lot about myself—I learned failure teaches. I learned to listen to my instincts. I learned to trust the man in front of me, behind me and beside me. I learned to be worthy of their trust.”

Why was he telling her this?

“I learned what I needed to survive.”

He started the truck, and left the lights off as he backed onto the road. Then he continued, and it as though they were a shadow moving amongst shadows. He’d taken them off road, and adjusted his vision to the dark. Now he avoided detection—all to make sure she was safe.

“And even if you can’t see a bright side yet, Wanda,” he murmured into the shroud around them. “I’ll sit with you in the dark.”

The route he took to the Arches passed without incident. Driving without the headlights was dangerous, so he avoided speeding. Encountering no other vehicles, or animals, didn’t mean they were out of the woods but he for one was happy to arrive back at the borrowed ranch house.

Jammer sent a message to his phone, a single word. “Clear.”

After he decided on the plan, he clued Hank and the guys into where he was taking Wanda. They would provide support but hang back. Ideally, whomever was after her would get frustrated enough to make a stupid mistake—like come at him directly.

He’d appreciate a direct fight at this point. Just to make sure the woman accompanying remained safe.

“Nice place,” she commented after he parked in the garage. He didn’t want her in the open, but he kept the thought to himself.

“Belongs to a friend’s…” Maybe they didn’t need the pedigree. “Friend’s place. I’m staying here for the time being, and trading some repairs for the free roof over my head.”

“Sounds like good work if you can get it.” Weariness marked every syllable and step.

As much as he would like to spend more time with her, he said, “Why don’t you go upstairs, shower—I’ll toss a couple of my shirts in your room and you can use those. I can wash what you have until we sort it all out tomorrow.” Should he offer food? “I can even make a mean sandwich and leave it on the nightstand.”

The woman pivoted to look at him, drop dead gorgeous even with the ashes smudged on her cheeks and the red veins in her blood shot eyes. “You’re kind of perfect…any flaws I should know about?”

Hondo bypassed them both when they lingered in the kitchen. He went straight for his own food and water. “I’m the kind of guy who’ll do anything he has to protect what’s his, and what he promises to protect. Sometimes that means any means necessary. I’m also the guy who gets so focused on a task, he forgets to feed his dog.”

Troubled frown easing, Wanda lifted her hand and then raised her eyebrows as she motioned to his face. After his nod of permission, she traced a finger lightly over his cheek. “You need a shower, too. And some rest. You’ve also got a cut.”

“I’ll take care of it,” he assured her, then caught her hand and pressed a kiss to it. “Upstairs, first bedroom on the right. There’s a bathroom attached, and fresh supplies in it.”

It was a testament to her exhaustion that she squeezed his fingers and trudged up the stairs without a word of argument or complaint. More surprising though was Hondo. The shepherd gave him a long look, then trotted after her. Watch her back buddy.

In the kitchen, he put together a couple of ham and cheese sandwiches, nothing fancy but it would fill the hole. He contemplated coffee, but he wanted her to rest so he grabbed one of the water bottles from the fridge.

Upstairs, the sound of the water running told him she followed his suggestion. He jogged up the stairs. Hondo lying outside the bathroom door, his whole demeanor that of protector. Trusting his partner to keep an eye on her, he left the sandwich and water for her. Then he went for the shirts he offered. He left them for her as well, before heading to another bathroom and grabbing a fast shower for himself.

The post-shower two percent improved mood rule in effect, Brick made a pit-stop at the door to her room. Though the light was still on, Wanda lay on her side, damp hair on a towel laid over the pillow. Sound asleep, she didn’t twitch as he slipped into the room and took the empty plate. Hondo had moved from guarding the bathroom door to guarding the bedroom door.

Meeting the dog’s eyes, he nodded to him and Hondo set his head against his paws. Yep, he and the canine had the same idea. Keep Wanda safe. Turning the light off in the room, he flicked on a light in the hall. It would be enough for Wanda to see if she woke, but hopefully would let her sleep.

Downstairs, he found Jammer in the kitchen and his sandwich gone. “Come in,” he murmured. “Help yourself.”

The other man grunted, a glass on the table with a half-a-finger’s worth of whiskey in it. “I’m here to spell you out for a bit,” Jammer spoke in a near monotone, his gaze on the wall calendar.

“I’m wired,” Brick told him, pulling out the ingredients for another sandwich. Hunger didn’t plague him, but he needed to eat while he had the opportunity. “Kind of like the night before an op.”

He didn’t have to say anything more, Jammer nodded.

“Not that I’m judging,” Brick added conversationally. “Sun’s coming up. You planning on drinking that whiskey?”

“Just the one drink. I’ll still be in good shape.”

Maybe. It wasn’t that Brick didn’t trust him, but drinking on the job wasn’t always the best idea. Sandwich built, he checked the milk with a quick sniff before pouring a glass for himself. Leaning against the counter, Brick checked the height of the sun outside. It was still hidden behind trees and cloud cover, but the sky continued to be a play on the varying stages of gray tinged with hints of pink.

They didn’t speak, and Jammer didn’t drink. His gaze, however, hadn’t wavered from the calendar. Glancing back at the dates hanging on the wall, Brick finished his sandwich. There was a date marked for a wedding—and all it said was elope. Angel and Katie had done that a couple of weeks prior. He’d been good to his word and said nothing. The couple wanted time to themselves, and considering how they’d met—Brick could appreciate the discretion particularly as they were on their delayed honeymoon this week, location undisclosed. It had something to do with Katie’s performance schedule, but he hadn’t been paying particular attention to that part.

Then a second notation on the calendar came into sharp relief. The date had been circled and all it said was ANGEL’S BDAY. Angel’s birthday.

Son of a bitch. Tracking his gaze back to Jammer, he sighed. Jammer had been engaged to Angel’s twin, a woman who’d died a few months before. The guys didn’t talk about it, but they all knew.

Lacking the words, he crossed the room and gripped Jammer’s shoulder. The operative nodded once “Go get some sleep, Brick. The lady is in safe hands and I’d rather keep watch.” He still hadn’t touched the whiskey. Probably wouldn’t. He’d poured the drink for her. Understanding was a bitter, two-edged sword.

“Thanks man.”

Leaving him to his sorrow, Brick headed for the stairs. Life sucked all the way around. At the top of the stairs, he considered the open door to Wanda’s room. They’d been not-sleeping in the same trailer for days. Then they’d had no choice.

“Brick?” Her soft voice carried out to the landing.

What the…? Crossing to the open door, he eyed Hondo who merely thumped his tail a couple of times. Stepping over the shepherd’s guard position, he found Wanda resting on one elbow. “Why are you awake?” She’d been asleep when he went downstairs.

“I never sleep well in an unfamiliar bed. I heard you come get the plate earlier.”

Well shit. He should have left well enough alone. Folding his arms, he studied her tousled damp hair and the lines of her athletic form where she curled in the bed. Crap, he’d meant to take her laundry downstairs for her. Whatever, he’d do it in the morning. If there were a little more light in the room, he’d get to see which of his two shirts she’d chosen. Kicking his brain out of the gutter, he said, “Kind of weird someone who travels so much can’t sleep in an unfamiliar bed.”

“You forget, I traveled with a family trailer, and then my own.” There was a hint of a catch in her voice on the last. Her trailer was gone now. “So I always slept in my own bed, just the location changed.”

When she curved her feet away and patted the bed, he perched on the edge. Talking, not touching. The refrain began to play in the back of his mind. Attraction wasn’t a new sensation, he’d met plenty of attractive women over the years. Very few of them, however, became someone whose company he craved in such a short space of time.

Wanda was all of that and more.

“What about Europe? Did you take your own bed with you?”

Settling back against the pillow, she rolled onto her back. Hands folded against her abdomen, she lifted her shoulders in a half shrug. “Took me months to settle into the bunk I earned there. Then it became a second home…”

“I can sleep anywhere. Snow. Desert.” Jungle. His throat closed on the last and the word wouldn’t come out. “Rest is vital to performance. Sometimes, you only have two hours. You take the sleep where you can find it.”

“Even on ratty old sofas that can’t possibly be comfortable.” The teasing note softened her voice, tethering him. Such a simple thing, yet it kept him from following thoughts of the jungle to their logical, and oftentimes painful conclusion.

“The sofa wasn’t so bad.” Then because darkness beckoned honesty, he said. “The company was pretty good, too.”

Another chuckle floated into the air. “Stop flirting with me. We’re both too tired to do more than bat at each other right now.”

“Right now, but that really sounded like a challenge.” The remark earned him another challenge.

“Maybe it is—a challenge for both of us.” Then the humor in her voice sobered. “But you’re already fighting one of my battles, and you don’t know enough about my past to involve yourself further.”

“Stop making decisions for me, woman.” He meant it. “I’m a grown man, I’ll decide what decisions I need to make and what ones I don’t.”

When she sat up and reached out a hand, he took it. “I don’t like relying on other people, especially when I can’t be one hundred percent honest.”

“I get work. I get oaths,” he told her, squeezing her hand. “I’ve had enough assignments I can’t share that I’d be a jackass and a hypocrite if I judged you for the same.”

“Have you ever regretted making the choice that put you in harm’s way? That made you—have to be secretive?”

Two shadows in the dark, the irony wasn’t lost on him. “No.” The answer fell from his lips without hesitation. “I’ve lost friends, good sailors, to the mission. I’ve been to hell, and paid the passage to get my ass back out again. Every job I’ve done, every one—I stepped up to do those jobs. You don’t accidentally qualify in BUD/S and no one goes through that without the dedication to work the other side.”

She was silent, but he could almost feel her unasked question in the air.

“Ask,” he told her.

“The nightmare? Was that a one off or…?” She interlaced her fingers with his, a comfort and an invitation. “You don’t have to tell me, but…but you had a moment this—hell I don’t even know what time that was anymore?”

Just a few hours earlier, but he appreciated the sentiment. “The nightmares are the scars I live with. Some guys lose a finger, or walk with a limp…some lose limbs. Me. I lose sleep. Not really something I can complain about.”

Hondo huffed a little and turned his head to stare at them.

“I think we’re keeping him awake,” Wanda said through smothered laughter, then she tugged his hand. “Come lie next to me. We can both pretend we’re going to get some rest so he can sleep.”

Yeah, they wouldn’t fool the shepherd, but Brick sprawled next to her anyway. He wanted to be close, and she didn’t release his hand.

“I have bad dreams, too.” She confessed. “Most of the time they’re dreams about all the things that could have gone wrong. This thing…this whatever the hell it is with the circus. It’s worse.”

“Because you feel powerless.” He totally got that. “You’re not, though.”

“Feels pretty damn powerless right now. My people are still at the site, and I’m running away. Their lives are being threatened and I’m…flirting in the dark with a hot guy.” The mattress depressed between them and suddenly Hondo settled his weight where he was touching them both.

“And his dog,” Brick said as they both glanced down at the shepherd.

Wanda’s laughter returned and he lifted their joined hands to press a kiss to her knuckles.

“I’m totally into your dog,” she admitted. “That’s why I want you to stick around.”

“I’m okay with that,” he said. “It gives me time to convince you I’m worth it, warts and all.” Her humor was infectious, spreading through all the dry, and worn places in his soul like a spring breeze. Exhaling, he said, “I think we should talk about something really important.”

“Oh?” Her tension earned him a baleful look from Hondo, but Brick persisted.

“Do you know who Corporal Lee Duncan is?”

Silence. Then, she said, “No. Friend of yours?”

“Sort of…” He had to keep a straight face, which proved more difficult when she rolled onto her side then rested her head against his shoulder. He liked the way she fit against him and didn’t mind Hondo sharing the bed, too. “He rescued a litter of puppies in France, during World War I. Liberated them, you might say. Brought them home and trained them. One of those puppies went on to become Rin Tin Tin.”

“Really?” Skepticism punctuated her tone and he had to bite back another smile.

“Rin Tin Tin was my hero growing up.”

Hondo huffed.

“Brick?”

“Yes, Wanda?”

“You’re crazy.”

“Thank you for noticing,” he said, utterly unrepentant. “Anyway, the corporal trained dogs for decades, most of his family does. Rin Tin Tin and all of his descendants. Then he trained more for World War II, and those dogs were some of the first to go into battle with us…” And he kept talking, telling her canine stories and eventually, her breathing evened out and Hondo settled.

Outside, the sun kept rising steadily, but Brick was happy right where he was—in the shadows with Wanda.