Carolina Mac [Mac - Dog

CHAPTER ONE

Monday, February 9 th .

Coulter-Ross Ranch. La Grange.

THE DOG woke himself up with a groan of pain loud enough to echo off the walls of the room. The sheets were drenched with sweat, his hair hung in his eyes, and hed never been so fuckin hot. Where the hell was he? He opened his eyes wide enough to see a narrow strip of his surroundings. Might be a hotel room but not one he could afford. Nothing this fancy in his budget.

So much pain filled up the space in his brain there was no room for a rational thought. Breathing was a chore. Even though he tried taking in only little gulps of air at a time, his body noticed and punished him. Every time he inhaled, his ribs made him sorry he had to breathe.

The door opened and as soon as he saw her gorgeous face, he let go the breath he was holding.

I heard you on the monitor, sugar. Declans coming to give you your meds. Annie sat down on the side of the bed and smoothed his sweat-soaked hair away from his face. Did you have a bad night?

Im okay, he mumbled. The Dog didnt need people helping him or fussing over him. Not even beautiful peoplelike Annie.

She reached over, picked up his water glass and put the straw in his mouth. Youre hot, sweetheart. You might be running a temp.

Declan, the Irish medic that lived on the ranch, came through the door with his bag of tricks in his hand. He flashed Dougie a smile. Hey, lad, what mischief are you up to this morning?

Nothin I cant handle on my own, the Dog growled.

Fantastic, said Declan, Ill give myself the day off.

A hint of a smile played around Dougies lips as Annie moved out of the way to let Declan examine Dougies wounded leg. Dec threw back the duvet, sat on the side of the bed and opened his bag.

Ill go make coffee and let you two fight it out, said Annie.

Declan removed the bandages from the Dogs bulked up right thigh and examined the stitches. A trauma hospital in Phoenix had done a stellar job of removing the bullet and patching up the big Dog.

Hows it looking, Doc?

A little inflamed and too much pus for my liking, said Declan. Lets clean the fucker up and start over.

Dougie smiled as he lay flat on his back, unable to do one goddam thing. Yeah, lets.

The Blackmore Agency. Austin.

BLAINE let the dogs out for their early morning run. He had a quick smoke made even quicker by the chill of the gray day, then he hurried inside and brewed a pot of Panamanian blend in his newly renovated kitchen. The old Victorian was starting to feel like home to him now, and about time, hed lived there for more than a year. The only thing missing was Annie. Hed never get used to living apart from her if he lived to be a hundred.

The place being so big and empty and having so many medium sized pokey rooms opening off the dingy back hallway, hed moved the Blackmore Agency to the house and converted part of the main floor to office space. So far it was working well, and he didnt have to get dressed and rush off anywhere first thing in the morning. Usually.

The previous day hed put in a call to Davis Raney of the US Marshalls Service, but the man was busy and out of the office on a case. It had dragged on for so long, and hed encountered so many setbacks, it felt like hed never make any progress finding out what had happened to his parents.

Blaine couldnt remember his parents. His first clear memory of his past came after the accident that claimed both their lives. He opened his eyes in Odessa, Texas, staring straight up at the underside of the bleachers in the fairgrounds. That was his first recollection, and nothing before no matter how hard he tried to remember details about his childhood. It seemed to him he was born when he was fourteen.

Carm sailed through the kitchen door as Blaine filled his mug and added a splash of cream. Youre up early, she said to him in Spanish. Carmelita Flores, a beautiful lady in her fifties with long black hair and expressive eyes, had owned the house before him and she continued to live there after he bought it from her. The two of them had a special relationship. Complicated, but a special bond between them all the same.

Blaine sat at the small antique table in the window alcove of the kitchen. His favorite spot in the whole house now that the back yard had been enlarged and landscapedthe perfect viewpoint.

He checked his phone for missed messages. One from Cat. No surprise. The new Governor, Catherine Campbell, depended on him a little too much. He read the message and while thinking about returning her call, the cell rang in his hand. He jumped as Farrell clumped through the kitchen door in his boxers and cowboy boots, his brothers washboard abs reminding Blaine hed been avoiding the home gym for too long.

Scared of the phone now?

Fuck off, said Blaine before he pressed talk. Yes, sir, Im writing it down. He waved frantically at Farrell to bring him a pen and paper from the desk in the corner.

Farrell plopped a yellow pad in front of Blaine and tossed a pen on the table.

Blaine scribbled, and Farrell couldnt read it. Ive got it. Well be there shortly.

Farrell took a sip from his mug and focused ice blue eyes on his foster brother. Where will I be shortly?

The big blue barn. Some asshole killed Herman Fogarty.

Aw, shit. Why would somebody kill a nice old guy like that? Farrell set his mug on the counter and stomped off to get dressed.

Blaine finished his coffee and stood up. Guess well find out soon enough.

Quantrall Ranch. Giddings.

JESSE carried Charity down the curved staircase, walked slowly towards the dining room a little out of breath, and strapped his baby girl into her high chair. Want some Cheerios, little girl?

Sit down, Jesse, said Ty. I told you to call me when you were ready to come down. You shouldnt be carrying her up and down the stairs. She weighs more than thirty pounds now. He leaned down and tickled his niece and Charity squealed out her new word.