Page 97 of Into the Woods

“Wanda.” Trick spoke her name, and she stood with a slow swish of her tail. He pointed at me. “Greet.”

The dog turned from him and wound her way through the furniture until she was in front of me. She sniffed my hand, then nudged it with her cold, wet nose.

I smiled and looked at Trick. “Can I…”

He gave me a nod, and I pet the top of her head. Her fur was soft as velvet, and when I rubbed her ear, she gave a loud groan and pressed her head into my hand. I couldn’t help but smile.

“We were finishing up our mission and getting ready to roll out,” Trick told me. “I was saying goodbye to her, and she fucking attacked me.”

I froze mid-ear rub. “She did what now?”

“Bit the shit out of my arm.” Trick grinned and laughed. “Rook and Ford were pulling her off me when all of a sudden, she lets go and hauls ass to our teammate, Cooper. Coop’s trying to load our gear into the Humvee so we can leave, but Wanda knocks his ass down next.

“It wasn’t until Cooper was lying in the dirt that he saw the explosive device someone had strapped under the truck,” Rook finished. “She fucking knew it would kill us the second we started the damn engine.”

“I brought her back with me, and we all pushed to have her trained as an official bomb dog in an ATF-sponsored program they were doing alongside the Navy,” Trick went on. “She tested off the fucking charts, but unless I was around, she didn’t seem to give a shit about working.”

“Trainers finally agreed to let Trick become her handler. She’s been with him ever since. That was three years ago. Wanda’s family,” Rook said.

I rubbed the top of her head, loving how she leaned against my legs. “Why’d you name her Wanda?”

Trick grinned, looking boyish. “Because the Avengers are the shit, and Scarlet Witch is a fucking badass. Duh.”

I laughed, shaking my head as I kept petting her.

“Guess we should talk this shit out,” Rook finally started.

Trick nodded and snapped his fingers. “Wanda, place.”

The dog got up and trotted to the door, then lay down against it, her head resting on her paws. She huffed out a big breath and closed her eyes, but I had a feeling one wrong move, and she’d be ready to rip my throat out.

“I only have an hour,” Trick said. “So we need to get this going. I’ll debrief my team.”

“They’re good with us joining the party?” Bishop looked skeptical.

“They’re accepting that you’ll crash the party,” he amended, sitting in the chair across from the sofa. Resting his forearms on his knees, he leaned forward. “We’re all on the same side, but you know the drill—shit goes sideways, and they’ll deny ever agreeing to a partnership. You’ll be on your own.”

“We won’t fail,” Rook told him, all business as he sat on the couch. He grabbed a file from the coffee table and passed it to Trick.

Trick opened it and flipped through the papers. “How sure are you on the auction date? Our source still hasn’t confirmed it.”

Rook’s gaze flicked to me. “We’re sure. Bex actually knows someone attending.”

Trick looked up, surprised. “You do?”

I nodded. “I was sorta dating a guy who’s organizing it.” I cringed.

He blinked at me. “I have questions.”

Court squeezed my hip. “Let’s sit down,” he murmured to me. He guided me into the other armchair across from Bishop and Rook, then stayed standing at one side, like my own personal bodyguard.

“Bex got tangled up with Eric Lambert-Durand,” Rook explained.

“As in Lambert-Singh?” Trick’s gaze latched on to me. This close I could see that his eyes were a gorgeous shade of dark blue that lightened to a pale gray around the pupil.

“Uh, yes?” I wasn’t sure who Singh was.

“Lambert-Singh is the name of Eric’s shipping company,” Bishop told me. “Lambert was his mother’s maiden name. She inherited the company from her father, Colton Lambert. His partner was Mikhail Singh, but Singh sold off his shares to Lambert when he was diagnosed with Alzheimer's while Eric was an infant.”

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