When Love Matters Most. Kate James

was his mother, maybe five-four and a hundred and fifteen pounds, who could put the fear of God into him.

      As he climbed out of bed and turned off his alarm, he resolved two things. He’d apologize to the veterinarian. Maybe even surprise her, stopping by the clinic to bring her a bunch of flowers or make some other conciliatory gesture. Second, he was well overdue for a visit with his family. He wasn’t shy about admitting that he missed his parents. He’d set that up today, too. Plan a get-together for the weekend, if Sophie and Daniel were available.

      He didn’t accomplish either of those goals over the course of the day. Jeff hadn’t survived the night, and that had cast a pall over the debrief they had that morning.

      Everyone was both grieving and fueled up to bring justice to those responsible. Rick had barely had time to take restroom breaks; it was insanely busy at the division. When he’d found a rare moment to check on Zeke’s condition, Heather, the clinic’s regular receptionist, advised him that Madison was unavailable but Zeke was doing well. She also informed him that Logan had already arranged for the unit’s admin, Beth, to stay in touch with her for regular progress reports. Rick’s opportunity to make casual contact with the veterinarian and attempt to redeem himself was lost.

      The important thing was that Zeke was recovering, and the risk of infection was diminishing with the passage of time.

      The division had set a plan in motion to track down the men responsible for killing Jeff, bring them to justice and, if everything worked out, take down the Los Zetas Cartel’s operations in California. It was a bold plan, not without risk, and would require cooperation from a number of policing entities on both sides of the border. Rick had volunteered to co-lead it with the captain of the SDPD’s Narcotics Task Force. That was the least he could do.

      * * *

      IT HAD BEEN one emergency after another at the clinic over the past three days since Zeke had arrived. Even her regular appointments had created challenges. Daisy was a perfect example, Madison thought, while she cleaned up after seeing the skittish little bull terrier. Daisy had been in for a routine checkup and her shots, but she’d been so nervous, she’d emptied her stomach and her bladder during the examination. Madison shook her head. She hadn’t managed to get out of the way quickly enough. As a result, she’d had to change, and one of the techs had to do a cleanup in examination room three.

      Despite days like this, Madison loved her job, and she loved the groundbreaking research she was doing at the San Diego Animal Rehabilitation Center.

      She was very excited and confident about the progress she and the center’s team were making in the area of platelet-rich plasma therapy. The opportunity to participate in the PRP research and what it would mean for tens of thousands of injured animals had been the key reason for her move to San Diego from El Paso, Texas, where she was raised and where her father still lived.

      She’d done her homework before making the move, of course. The San Diego rehab center was the best and most advanced in the country in her area of interest. They also had the necessary funding, an essential consideration since the research was costly. In addition, they gave her free rein with her secondary interest—advanced aqua therapy. The opportunity had been compelling enough for her to leave her father, the only family she had.

      She took a moment to think of Patrick Long, Supreme Court judge and the best father anyone could hope for. He’d started his career as a crown prosecutor, had gone into private practice and had been ultimately called to the bench. Since her mother had died of ovarian cancer when Madison was a toddler, it was just the two of them. As a kid, she’d shadowed her father and spent many hours with him at his office and even in the courtroom.

      She missed him. Much more than she’d expected.

      But her career meant a lot to her. A professional drive and a desire to make a difference were values her father had instilled in her from an early age. And those factors had resulted in her move to San Diego and the Mission Bay Veterinary Clinic.

      Through her father, she’d gained a tremendous respect for police officers, and the dangerous and often thankless work they did. She’d also had enough exposure to police dogs to know their jobs weren’t any easier and often more dangerous than that of their handlers.

      When she’d joined Mission Bay, Madison had learned that they provided care for the SDPD’s canines, and she’d expressed keen interest in working with them. It hadn’t taken long to prove herself to Jane and Don, the clinic’s owners. She’d been thrilled when in addition to her other duties she’d been entrusted with the care of the SDPD’s dogs.

      Zeke was the first police dog she’d treated for an injury sustained in the line of duty. It had hit her hard emotionally, and she was gratified that she’d been able to help him.

      She’d checked on Zeke first thing in the morning. He was still groggy from his medication, but she was pleased with his progress and had reduced his dosage. There was no sign of infection, which was a huge relief. If all went well, she thought he’d be an excellent candidate for a trial of the PRP therapy.

      She put on a clean lab coat, brushed her hair and braided it. She wanted to have another quick look at Zeke before her next appointment to ensure that he was doing okay with the lower dosage. As she did, she thought of the cop—Rick—who’d brought Zeke in. Too bad he didn’t have a personality. A guy like him probably got by on looks alone, and didn’t care how rude and unfriendly he was. Well, that wasn’t her type. She appreciated appearance as much as anyone, but what really mattered to her was a man’s inner qualities—what was inside. Rick seemed to have more than his fair share on the outside, but a major deficit in the personality department.

      In the months she’d been at Mission Bay, she’d met most of the K-9 Unit officers and their dogs. Being single, Madison accepted the amiable flirting from the officers. And being human, she wasn’t immune to the attention from the mostly good-looking cops. She didn’t take any of it seriously. If she allowed herself to be shallow for just a moment, she had to admit that Rick was the most attractive of the group. But based on what she’d seen of him, there wasn’t going to be any flirting.

      Which was probably for the best. He made her feel uneasy.

      Then, why was she even thinking about him? And why Rick rather than one of the supernice cops who were gracious and pleasant? She knew a lot of women were attracted to a rogue. She’d always scoffed at that, but maybe she wasn’t immune to it, either. She laughed at herself. She really needed to get more of a social life if her thoughts were turning in that direction.

      Satisfied that Zeke was fine, she left the recovery area. Her next appointment was with one of the few SDPD K-9 cops she hadn’t met yet, K-9 Unit sergeant Enrique Vasquez or Pitbull. She rolled her eyes at his alias. His canine partner’s name was Sniff. She smiled at the cute name for a narcotics dog. The cop evidently had a sense of humor. Sniff hadn’t come to the clinic for nearly seven months, certainly not during the time she’d been there.

      Madison checked her watch. Of course she had to meet a new client on a day she was behind schedule. She happened to be a stickler for organization and effective time management. She didn’t like to keep clients waiting, nor did she want to make a poor first impression, but she needed to review Sniff’s patient file first.

      Sniff was the only Labrador in the SDPD’s K-9 Unit. If she wasn’t mistaken, Sniff’s handler, Enrique, was the cop Heather gushed about—classically tall, dark and handsome.

      Madison remembered what Heather had told her about this particular cop. He and Sniff patrolled the most hazardous part of the border between San Diego and Tijuana to thwart the cartel-related drug trafficking that occurred there. Heather had gone on at some length about Enrique’s looks and charm when she’d handed her the file, until finally Madison had laughingly told her to stop. Heather had claimed he was the best looking in the unit, which she considered unlikely after having met Zeke’s handler, Rick. In any case, Enrique would have to be more pleasant and better mannered than Rick had been, she thought as she rounded the corner to the reception area.

      And she came to an abrupt halt.

      Enrique