Since that would have meant go straight to jail, do not pass go, he’d not pulled the trigger of his sniper rifle without verifiable proof that the terrorist lined up in his sights actually was a terrorist. Maybe what haunted him was the Marine private who had been killed because Cody hadn’t acted on his instincts. If there was one he knew of, how many other brothers in arms had died because of a bad guy he’d let live?
Riley glanced in her rearview mirror to see the truck behind her turn into the driveway across the street as she pulled into hers. Her mystery man climbed out of a silver pickup with dark tinted windows. She waved as she walked toward her door, and he responded with a barely discernable nod. Right, got it. Not going to be friendly. Probably for the best, because if sexy mystery man crooked his finger, she’d likely head right for him like the sex-starved woman she was.
All her energy and time the past year had gone into getting her veterinarian clinic up and running so she could pay off her student loans. No time to schedule sex into the appointment book, not even a ten-minute quickie. Before Sexy Mystery Man popped up, she’d not really given sex—or the lack thereof—much thought, being that she was worn out by the time she dragged herself home each night.
But she was thinking of it now—most especially the lack thereof—since her nameless neighbor had stood on his porch that morning, showing off a six-pack that merited serious admiration. Damn him, anyway.
Cats fed, a beer in the freezer, Riley took a quick shower, then slipped on panties and a robe. Although it had grown dark outside, she didn’t turn on any lights in her bedroom, but she did open her window. No sound of a guitar, so more disappointed than she’d expected to be, she retrieved her beer-turned-to-slush and spent the next hour trying to catch up on her bookkeeping.
It had only been the month before that she’d finally felt like there was light at the end of the tunnel where her income versus expenses was concerned. Progress, gotta love it. Arthur, the most affectionate of her three felines, had curled up on her lap while Merlin perched on the back of a chair watching Pelli bat a ball around on the floor.
Arthur had been the catalyst for giving a lost girl the idea of becoming a veterinarian. Having bounced from foster home to foster home, living with strangers who didn’t really want her, she had befriended their pets. Arthur was the only one that had actually belonged to her, a gift from her last foster mother. He had entered her life during a time she thought of as her Dark Days. Even though a cat, he had been her friend and confidant when she’d needed one the most.
When, as a kitten, he’d refused to eat, she’d checked out books from the library on the care of felines. Those first books had led to more complicated ones, and soon she was devouring any animal books she could get her hands on, including medical textbooks.
“You’re my sweet boy, aren’t you?” She scratched under his chin, causing him to purr. Yeah, life was pretty good these days, even if lacking in the sex department.
The bills paid, she tossed her empty bottle into the recycling bin. While she’d been busy with the paperwork, she’d managed to put the latest poisoned animal out of her mind, this time a dog. With the first one, she’d assumed it had gotten into someone’s garbage or maybe some spilled pool chlorine. The second one had worried her. The third one had alarmed her, but apparently not the police since they hadn’t followed up after she’d reported her concerns. Someone in the neighborhood was intentionally killing pets. She’d begun questioning the owners, but so far, she hadn’t been able to find a connection. As she’d cried with the distraught owners, she had vowed that she would find the person responsible.
What she needed was to clear her head, and a good, sweaty run would do the trick. She tried to run two or three times a week, usually in the early morning before work, but had let herself get lazy the last few days. Since it was dark out and she wasn’t stupid, she would just run up and down the sidewalk in front of her house under the streetlights.
After changing into running clothes, she headed out. She checked her Fitbit, noting the steps she’d taken so far that day. Three thousand more, she decided, clipping the device onto the waist of her shorts.
On the fifth pass by her house, she heard a car coming up the street at the same time she noticed Mystery Man on his lawn, tossing balls to his dogs. She subtly eyed him as she ran past, a thrill coursing through her at seeing him blatantly watching her.
The car’s engine revved as it sped up, and Riley considered yelling at the driver to slow down, that there were children and animals living on the block. Better not to, though. Too many crazies behind the wheels of cars these days.