Page 34 of Above ’N’ Beyond

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“Thanks, Steve.” Jamie stuffed his phone in the pocket of his running shorts. While he’d been pitching his idea to two Port Authority detectives who had his back and would be discreet, he’d also been keeping an eye on Bella.

He’d watched her leave the house in running clothes, and since she’d told him about the lake, he’d taken advantage of the opportunity to just “happen” to be there at the same time she was. Good thing that, because something about the guy running behind her was off.

Not only wasn’t he dressed in running gear, but when Bella had stopped to tie her sneaker, he’d also stopped and seemed to be pretending to look at his phone. If that guy was actually here to run, Jamie would eat bean sprouts for dinner. In other words, bean sprouts weren’t on the menu.

Sure enough, when Bella veered off into the woods, the guy followed, trying to grab her shoulder.

“Jax, let’s go!” He tugged on the leash, and they bolted after her. His dog had been itching to go to work as it was and strained to be set free.

Jamie pounded on the asphalt trail, pushing himself faster. Jax easily kept stride with him. By the time they reached Bella, the guy was leaning over her with his arms outstretched. Without stopping, Jamie unclipped Jax’s leash. “Attack!”

His dog galloped into the woods and leaped, slamming into the guy and taking him to the ground. Jax clamped his jaws on a forearm.

“Ahhh!” The guy struggled, which only made his predicament worse. Jax adjusted his grip and clamped down again. “Get him off! Get him off!”

Bella scrambled backward, her eyes wide, chest heaving.

“Jax, easy!” Jax relaxed his jaw but still kept it clamped firmly around the guy’s arm. Jamie had to be careful about what commands he gave in front of Bella. Some K-9 terminology was used exclusively for law enforcement, while others were universal commands for all protection-trained dogs.

“Let me up,” the guy said. “I’m a—”

Before he could finish his sentence, Jamie flipped the guy onto his belly, pressed his knee into his back, and wrenched one of his arms there, too. “Move, and I’ll feed your fingers to my dog. Understand?” When he nodded, Jamie tugged a black wallet from the guy’s rear pocket. He flipped it open, then gritted his teeth to hold back a surge of fury.

You’ve gotta be kidding.

A gold FBI badge stared back at him. Special Agent Daniel Hoover. He snapped the wallet shut and wedged it out of sight beneath Hoover’s belly. He leaned down, whispering, “Say one more word, and I’ll let him chew on your gonads. Got it?” Again, Hoover nodded.

“Bella, are you okay?” he asked over his shoulder, quickly patting Hoover down for weapons, of which there were none. Not even a knife. What an idiot.

“Y-yes. Aside from being thoroughly pissed off.” She stood and brushed leaves and pine needles from the front of her shirt, the strap of which had slipped off her shoulder, revealing the luscious curve of her breast.

“Get out of here,” he ordered her.

“I know him.” She stepped closer, and her brow furrowed. “He was at the Bistro a couple of days ago.”

Jamie, too, looked harder at Hoover, then clenched his jaw so hard it hurt. She was right. This guy had been at the Bistro yesterday, too. Jamie had served him a beer just as Tony and Marco had shown up.

“Bella,” he repeated. “Please, just go back to your car. I’ll take care of this.”

“Do you want me to at least call the police?” She pointed to where her Mini Cooper was parked by his Tahoe. “My phone is in my car. I can—”

“No,” he growled. “Go back to your car and go home. Now.” He took a calming breath. Bella looked okay, and from what he’d witnessed, Hoover hadn’t had time to do anything. And what the heck had this jerkoff been thinking? Jamie’s mind seesawed between pummeling him and taking Bella in his arms and holding her. “It’s better you stay out of it. I’ve got this.”

She threw up her hands. “Okay, okay.”

He watched until she’d gotten back on the paved trail and was running back to her car. When she was out of earshot and out of sight, he searched Hoover’s pockets until he found what he was looking for. Handcuffs.

Jamie whipped them out and snapped one on Hoover’s right wrist. “Get up.”

By simultaneously pulling up on Hoover’s arm and digging the edge of the handcuff into the guy’s wrist, Jamie had total control over his prisoner and got him to his feet. As stupid as this guy was, he’d gone to Quantico and should know the drill. If he resisted, one yank upward on the cuff would cause excruciating pain. Judging by the way Hoover was tiptoeing slightly, Jamie would bet it hurt like a mother already.

“Move,” he ordered, shoving Hoover none too gently and deeper into the woods.

Jax followed, occasionally uttering a low growl in Hoover’s direction.

“You saw my badge,” the agent shot over his shoulder. “You know who I am.”