Keith had brought Mrs. Robertson and Lulu to an exam room. Jade was at her desk doing the whole wind down for the day when she heard Mrs. Robertson and Dell laughing.
Two minutes later, Mrs. Robertson and Lulu checked out with Jade and left.
Jade turned to her last chore, Dell’s laptop. The other day on the helicopter back from a S&R training, he’d made a bunch of notes for her to add to patient files. She’d been asking him to e-mail them to her, but he hadn’t, so she’d confiscated the laptop to do it herself.
That’s when she found the patient files she’d never seen before, a whole set of them that had never been entered on the books. Frowning, she scrolled through them. Wellpuppy and -kitten checks, simple surgeries like neuters and spays, dentistry, vaccinations . . . Confused, Jade searched, but though she found names, dates, and detailed services provided, there was no billing information.
Because he hadn’t billed, she realized. Not for any of it.
She went deeper and found that these services occurred approximately once a month and went back years. Thoroughly baffled, Jade went into the back and found Dell in front of the x-ray machine, laughing with Mike, who was cleaning up the equipment.
“What’s wrong with Lulu?” Jade asked.
“She ate Mrs. Robertson’s birth control pills,” Mike said.
“That’s not dangerous for her?”
“Not the pills,” Dell told her. “But the case is . . . problematic.”
Jade stared at Dell. “She ate the case, too?”
Dell smiled. “Yeah but no worries. The x-ray shows she broke up the case pretty good, though. It’s going to all come out okay in the end.”
Both men cracked up at this. When they’d composed themselves, Mike said good-bye for the night.
Dell surprised Jade by snagging her hips and drawing her in close, gripping her with a protective, possessive familiarity that should have pissed her off.
Instead, her heart stuttered to a stop. She looked down at his hands on her, at his fingers, the ones she’d had on her body all night long three nights ago now, tender. Rough.
Demanding . . .
Tilting her head up, she looked into his face. “What are you doing?”
“Breaking my promise. I’m gonna kiss you, Jade.” He flashed her a wicked smile that blew a few brain cells. “Want a breakdown of what happens next?”
“I—” It shouldn’t be so sexy when he spoke in that low alpha voice. She lost her train of thought when his hands ran up and down her sides, dangerously close to the swells of her breasts.
“God, I love this top,” he murmured, dipping his head to kiss her neck. “And you smell good enough to eat.”
“Dell, we’re at work.”
“When we’re not at work, you ignore me.”
“That’s . . . that’s not true.” Was it? “You didn’t come by or call, either.”
He went still and stared at her, looking genuinely flummoxed, as if he was so used to women coming to him that he’d not even thought of it. “You are so spoiled,” she said. “And—” Her phone was vibrating in her pocket. She pulled it out, saw that it was her mother, and put it back into her front pants pocket.
Dell’s brows went up.
“It’s nothing.” But the phone kept vibrating insistently.
Dell slid his hand into her pocket, taking his sweet-ass time pulling out the phone, making sure his fingers brushed against her hip bone, letting his thumb slip beneath the waistband of her skirt to touch bare skin as he looked at the ID screen. “It says Mom,” he said. “Jade, you can’t ignore your mom.” Before she could say a word to that, he hit Answer and said “Jade Bennett’s phone, how can I help you?”
Jade tried to snatch the phone back, but Dell used his superior height against her. “Yes,” he said very sweetly into the phone. As if he were ever sweet. “As a matter of fact, Jade is right here. Hold on a moment.”
She snatched the phone. “Mom, is everything all right?”
“Of course, darling.”
“Okay . . . but I’m at work, you know that, right?”
“I know.” Her mother’s voice was clear enough for Dell to hear. “So who was that lovely young man?”
Dell preened.
“Was that your secretary?” her mother asked.
Jade smirked at Dell. “Not quite. Mom, you know that I’m the secretary here.”
“Actually,” Dell said. “You’re more than—”
Jade slapped her hand over his mouth. “Can I call you back after work?”
“Oh, there’s no need. Just wanted you to know that I went by your town house today and aired it out for you. I was thinking a fresh paint job.”
It was difficult to concentrate with one hundred eighty pounds of solid muscle and testosterone pressing into her. “I just painted it.”
“Eighteen months ago. And how about some new furniture? Just yesterday I found this adorable King James end table—”
“Mom—”
Dell made the most of their close proximity and sank his teeth lightly into the lobe of her ear. Desire rolled through her and she barely managed to swallow her moan. Shoving at him, she said, “I don’t need new paint or new furniture, but thank you.”
“Plants, then. How about a few plants, something to make it homey for your arrival.”
“No plants,” Jade said firmly, giving up trying to push Dell away as he kissed his way down her throat, his hands gliding up to cover her breasts. Damn. He was good . . .
Her mother gave a long-suffering sigh. “Okay, but new bedding and towels. I’m going to insist, Jade. It’ll be a welcome-home present.”
“I know you’re trying to help,” Jade murmured, her head thunking back on the wall when Dell’s thumbs rasped back and forth over her nipples. “But . . .”
But she’d lost track of the conversation since only half of her was half paying attention; the other half was now quivering with anticipation of where Dell’s mouth and hands would go next. “I don’t need a welcome-home present.” She felt Dell’s reaction to that in the slight tensing of his muscles. “I’ve got to go, Mom,” she said, and slid the phone back into her pocket. “And that’s why I don’t answer my cell when I’m on the job,” she said, trying for glib.
He didn’t play. In fact, his face was carefully cleared of all emotion. “You wanted to go over something with me,” he said.
It took her a moment to change gears—he was much better at it than she was. “I got the files off your laptop.” She handed over the computer. “And while I was there, some other files popped out at me. Services you’ve provided but not charged for.”
His gaze flickered, but he said nothing as he took the laptop.
“Do you need help with the accounting?” she asked as Adam came into the back.
“There is no bookkeeping for these accounts,” Dell said.
“Pro bono work?” Jade asked.
Dell flicked a glance at his brother, then back to Jade. “Yes. I go out to the Tall Rocks area once a month and give a clinic for the people out there who can’t afford vet care for their pets.”
“On the Indian reservation there?”
He looked surprised that she knew. “No, just off the reservation.”
“If you put it on your books, it’s a write-off.”
“I don’t want the write-off,” he said.
“But—”
“No,” he said, and walked away.
“Confused?” Adam asked her.
“Yes.”
Adam nodded. “It’s because you asked him the wrong question.”
“What’s the right question?”
“Why does he do it?”
Jade looked into the dark eyes so like Dell’s. “Okay, why does he do it?”
“Because no matter what he wants us all to believe, he cares for people as much as he cares about animals. It’s a pack leader thing. He won’t let himself turn his back on anyone in his pack, like it or not.”
“But why
can’t he take the write-off?”
“Not can’t. Won’t.”
“Why?”
“Now that’s a far more complicated question,” Adam said.
After what had happened against the x-ray machine, and what hadn’t happened, Dell made himself scarce the next day. Not hard to do with the schedule they had all morning, which had been double booked because he spent the afternoon out west making ranch rounds. From there he was called to an emergency at Melinda’s, which Brady flew him to. When Jade had locked up for the day, it was Adam to walk her out to her car, standing there big and protective, making sure she got off okay. “You have a training session tonight,” Adam reminded her.
“Still?” Jade asked. “But isn’t Dell—”
“Still.”
She went home first and changed. “Men are stupid,” she said to Beans.
“Mew.”
She sighed. What had she expected? That Dell would stop being Dell?
That they were in a relationship?
Of course they weren’t in a relationship. She’d made it perfectly clear that she was leaving, and he didn’t do relationships, anyway.
Which disturbed her more than it should. But regardless, she drove to his house for her scheduled self-defense session. She walked up to his door and stared at the keypad in indecision. She ran a hand over her clothes. Tucked a strand of hair in place.
Chewed on her lower lip.
She was nervous, which she hadn’t been since their first session. But things were different now. They’d slept together for one thing. Before, using the key code to let herself into his house had been . . . a friend move, not a lover move. God, no. He’d never even had a lover here to his house.
And now . . . now she wasn’t sure what they were.
The door opened unexpectedly, and she hurriedly pasted a smile on her face.
It was Adam. He stood back and let her in.
“Oh,” she said in surprise. “Where’s Dell?”
“I’m your stand-in tonight.”
She ignored the ping of loss. “You should have told me. You don’t have to—”
“Want to,” he said. “And don’t worry. I’m better than he is.”
She smiled, thinking this would be far easier with Adam than Dell, but her nerves only increased as they moved down to the gym.
After her attack, she hadn’t wanted to be touched. Dell had broken through that barrier, but that was Dell.
Adam was . . . not Dell.
Okay, so it didn’t make any sense, but all she knew was that her feet didn’t want to take her to the mats.
Adam stood stretching while she made a big production out of setting down her purse and removing her sweatshirt.
And then another long production of making sure her shoes were both tied tight.
And then double-tied.
One could never be too careful . . .
“Jade.” Adam’s voice was always low and measured. He never wasted a single word. If Dell was the laid-back, easygoing one of the family, Adam was his virtual opposite. Quiet. Guarded. Stoic. His version of the Connelly Self-Protection Plan.
She sighed. “Yeah?”
Looking at her with steady patience, he gestured to the mat.
She walked onto it.
“You look like you’re going to the guillotine,” he said, sounding a little amused.
“No, really. I’m fine. Really.”
“That was one too many reallys.”
She grimaced and he shook his head. “How about we work on something not physical?”
She let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Like?”
“Weapons.”
She laughed, the tension loosening a little. “Weapons aren’t physical?”
“Not like hand to hand is, no. If you have a weapon, you’re far less likely to ever be a victim.”
“I’m not comfortable carrying a weapon,” she told him.
“You don’t have to. You can have something that can be used as a weapon, something easily and quickly accessible. Get your purse.”
She grabbed it and hugged it to her chest.
He gave a little smile. “Don’t worry, I have no desire to ever comb the mysterious depths of a woman’s purse. Pull something out from there quick, just the first thing your fingers grab.”
She pulled out a compact-sized can of hair spray.
“Perfect. If someone surprises you in a parking lot—”
She winced, and he continued on, more gently now. “If someone does, you’ll spray him directly in the face. Best if you can get it right in his eyes.”
She’d actually done that to herself once by accident and it had hurt like a bitch. But . . . that long ago night, she’d had her purse and the spray wouldn’t have helped her. “If he’s got a gun,” she said softly with a remembered shiver.
“Then you bide your time to make your move. It’s actually hard for an attacker to keep track of everything; the job, the gun, the hostage. When he takes his eyes off you for even one second, you smash the heel of the can into his nose, throat, or against his temple. Whatever’s exposed. If you’re already down on the ground, go for his foot or kneecap. Groin, if you can reach. Hit hard and don’t hesitate. Women hesitate.”
She nodded. “No hesitating. Got it.”
“Now grab something else out of your purse.”
“You don’t want to test me with the can?” she asked, surprised. “Dell always makes me try everything on him.”
He shook his head and muttered something beneath his breath about his brother being both a softie and a sucker. “Hell no, I don’t want to test your smashing me in the face with that can. I’ve seen you beating up the copier. I know what you can do. Pull something else out of your purse.”
She stuck her hand back in and this time latched onto a pen. She shrugged in apology.
“No, that’s good,” he said. “It’s pointy.”
She stared at the pen. “Yeah. So?”
“So all you have to do is remember that pointy things are more effective on something soft. Like the throat, the eyes, abs, groin.”
She felt a little sick at the thought of using the pen on a man. “You guys sure are obsessed with your . . . groin area.”
“No doubt,” he said, sounding amused again. “But you have to be careful. If you use something like a pen to strike at a hard point—a kneecap, for example—chances are that your weapon of choice will just bounce off without doing any real damage, and then you’ll have just pissed him off. That won’t be good.”
When the moment had come for her, she hadn’t done anything to protect herself. She’d been too scared, and that was her secret shame—she’d let herself be a victim.
Adam’s expression softened. “Just remember, something hard like