When Love Matters Most. Kate James

and more personal insights into how the cartels operated, Rick wondered again if he would’ve been able to detect that it was a trap. The simple fact that they’d had a tip—from a questionable informant—and that the van was found apparently abandoned should’ve been reason enough to exercise extreme caution. Who’d abandon a vehicle voluntarily if it contained drugs? Why hadn’t the Narcotics Task Force guys see that, if Jeff hadn’t?

      Rick had no answers. Second-guessing was futile, but Jeff was part of his team, so Jeff was his responsibility. Rick had decided to go to the San Ysidro border area the night before because the Sinaloa Cartel was rumored to be active there. Then he’d caught that boy trying to smuggle the kilo of marijuana across the border. Although Rick had never run drugs as a kid, it had struck too close to home, and he’d taken pity on the boy. He’d made arrangements to get him to Child Services instead of booking him. And that skirting of the law, even with the best of intentions, had taken considerably more time than arresting him would have. The result was Jeff and the Narcotics cops handling the incident without him.

      Was his fixation on the Sinaloa Cartel all these years later—although they were no longer the SDPD’s biggest concern since the Los Zetas Cartel had risen to prominence—a contributing factor? Rick had to admit that, right or wrong, he couldn’t forgive or forget. Had his personal grudge caused him to make the wrong decision, and consequently a good cop, a young father, was fighting for his life?

      And if it was an ambush, why? To send a message to the SDPD K-9 Unit because of the significant headway they’d made in shutting down the cartel’s usual smuggling routes? It was plausible.

      When he reached his SUV, he let Sniff out to relieve himself and stretch his legs before they headed back to the police division. He watched Sniff favor his left rear leg as he ambled about. Lying down for long stretches wasn’t good for his partner. Watching Sniff, he considered next steps.

      The unit needed to debrief, and he planned to have a one-on-one with Logan. He was almost certain that the Los Zetas Cartel was behind the trap. That made sense, since they were the ones who’d been impacted the most. Yet they were still the dominant force. The SDPD needed to take down their operations in San Diego.

      Rick checked his watch. Logan should be back from the hospital by the time he got to the division.

      Helping Sniff into the vehicle because he couldn’t make the jump on his own reminded him that he wanted to take him to the clinic for a checkup. And that got him thinking of the new veterinarian, Madison Long.

      He’d treated her terribly. She hadn’t done anything to deserve it. It was just that he was angry, worried and—if he was rationalizing—he might as well add sleep deprived. He felt rotten about having questioned her competence. She had to be good at what she did. Jane and Don wouldn’t have brought her into the practice and entrusted her with the care of the SDPD canines if she wasn’t.

      Rick wasn’t rude or ungrateful. His parents had raised him better than that. All the more reason for him to feel ashamed of the way he’d behaved. He knew he’d made a horrible impression, and couldn’t really blame her for being abrupt with him. He could come up with all the excuses he wanted, but the bottom line was that he’d been a jerk. The vet had saved Zeke, and he should’ve shown her all the gratitude in the world for that alone.

      Then she’d voiced his own thoughts about Zeke’s having earned an early retirement. She was clearly a caring person. He wished he could have said yes, but Zeke wasn’t his dog. With Jeff in the hospital, he’d make the recommendation. The decision, however, was Logan’s. Something else he’d have to discuss with the captain. Had it been just that morning that he’d contemplated approaching him about retiring Sniff?

      He and Logan had been talking about a renewal of the canines, planning for the future by bringing in some younger dogs. If they were going to be training, they might as well train a few young dogs at the same time. Those dogs would have to be checked over by the vet to ensure that they were physically sound...and that brought his thoughts full circle to the beautiful redhead.

      It had been an emotional day, and he needed some sleep. That was all. Nothing more. He had to cancel his drug-awareness counseling session at the school, which he hated to do, but he just couldn’t take the time. That didn’t help his mood. It had turned out to be one of his worst days in recent memory.

      He’d stop by the division, talk with Logan, find someone to cover his shift that night, set the wheels in motion for a debrief at oh-seven-hundred hours the next day, then go home, have a beer, get some sleep.

      If he could shut his brain down long enough...

       CHAPTER THREE

      AS IT TURNED OUT, Logan wasn’t back at the division when Rick got there. He’d apparently gone from the hospital straight to the scene of the shooting. Couldn’t blame him. Rick would’ve done that, too, if he hadn’t been with Zeke. In fact, he might just go there now, catch up with Logan at the scene.

      “Where’re you going, Pitbull?” Shannon Clemens, the sole female officer in their unit and one of the most recent additions to their team, called out to him as he started to pack up his gear. “You just got here.” She made a sweeping motion around the mostly empty squad room. The few cops who were present had their eyes on him. “Everyone’s asking what we’re going to do about Jeff. About what happened to him.”

      Rick ran his fingers through his hair for what must have been the thousandth time that day, something he did when he was frustrated or overtired. “If I knew anything, I’d tell you. But I don’t. Not any more than you already know.” There’d been no updates since Jeff had gone back into the OR. He looked around, scanned the furious faces. They were all aware of what had gone down and praying for Jeff to pull through.

      “The good news is Zeke’s going to be okay.” He could at least give them that much. “I’m going to try to catch Logan in the field.”

      “You won’t get him there,” Shannon said. “I was just speaking with Dispatch. Jagger’s coming in,” she said. “But he plans to make a couple of stops first.”

      She took a long look at Rick, so intense and appraising it made his skin itch. He was just about to ask, “What?” when she continued.

      “You might not have been involved in the incident, but you look as though you could use some downtime. Why don’t you go home? Get some rest. We’ve got the debrief tomorrow morning anyway. I’d bet that both you and Logan will be in before it starts. You can see him then.”

      Rick felt the need to act. To do something. But what Shannon said was true. He probably looked like hell—and she was just showing her concern. He finished stuffing everything in his bag and slung it over his shoulder.

      “You’re right, and thanks,” he said to Shannon, giving her shoulder a light pat as he walked by. “See you all tomorrow,” he said.

      * * *

      DESPITE A RESTLESS NIGHT, Rick couldn’t remember a single dream or nightmare, for which he was thankful. He’d believed the events of the day before would bring the nightmares back to haunt him, but he’d gotten a solid five hours of uninterrupted sleep. That wasn’t bad under the circumstances. He’d woken twenty minutes before his alarm was set to go off. Since then, he’d been lying wide-awake, listening to Sniff snoring softly on his own bed.

      Rick folded his arms under his head and stared up at the ceiling. Why his thoughts kept veering back to the new vet he couldn’t say, especially when he had so much else to occupy him. Well, he supposed he did have an idea why. He was intrigued, and it was more than her looks. She’d gone toe-to-toe with him and in a manner of speaking had won. She’d gotten him out of the way, not backing down when he was at his belligerent worst. And she’d done her job. He thought of himself as a nice guy, a gentleman—thanks to the Stewarts and how they’d raised him—but he certainly hadn’t left Madison with that impression.

      He knew exactly what his mother,