Smoke watched her until she disappeared into the kitchen and then glared at Mad Dog. He wasn’t the only one.
“Nice going,” Cage grumbled, shooting him an angry glare.
“What the hell did I do?”
“You crushed her, man,” Heff explained. “But it’s probably for the best. If she saw them, she’d want one.”
“What does Kate plan to do with them, do you know?” Doc asked.
Mad Dog shook his head. “No idea. The vet scanned the mama dog for a chip and got nothing, so Kate’s keeping them all at her place until she comes up with a better solution. She’s already attached.”
“Hmm,” Doc hummed.
He decided to change the subject. “Has anyone seen Church this morning?”
“Yeah, he’s in the war room,” Heff answered. “Why?”
“Because I’ve come across some information he’s going to want to hear.”
Cage’s eyes lit up almost as much as Sam’s had when she heard the word puppies. “Does this have anything to do with what we were talking about the other day?”
“It does.”
“Well, all right then, let’s go.”
Any food remaining was quickly eaten; coffee mugs were drained. They carried their dishes back to the kitchen, where they were stacked on the counter beside the commercial sink. One of the newbies, a quiet guy by the name of Anderson, nodded but didn’t meet anyone’s eyes as he silently put them in the sink and started using the power sprayer on them.
Mad Dog wasn’t sure what to think of Anderson yet. The guy didn’t say much and tended to keep to himself. The day after he’d arrived, he’d just started showing up in the kitchen, doing shit that needed to be done and then disappearing again. That probably explained why Smoke had been staying close by Sam even more than usual these days.
Church was leaning over one of the drafting tables, examining an ancient-looking set of prints—the architectural design for the original Winston resort. He glanced up when they all entered together. “What’s up?”
“Mad Dog’s got intel,” Cage announced.
Everyone found a place to sit or lean and then looked to Mad Dog.
“You know those mines you were telling us about? Well, I spent the night in one.”
He told them where the place was and what little he knew. As he did, he felt a pang of conscience. Kate had shared her secret with him, and telling them about the mine felt like he was breaking a confidence.
He rationalized it away, reasoning that while the place clearly held memories for Kate, she was an adult and no longer saw the place with the same childlike wonder she once had. Surely, she would understand.
Right?
Besides, he couldn’t not tell them, not when there were others who might also know of those shafts and be using them for nefarious intent.
“Looks like you were in the old Paxton mine,” Cage said, pointing to the map he’d pulled up on the screen. He zeroed in on Sumneyville and the thousand or so square miles surrounding it.
Heff whistled, leaning in closer. “It’s an entire underground network.”
“And those are just the legal, documented ones,” Doc added. “I’ve been researching some of the local anthracite history. It’s tragic and fascinating, filled with all sorts of shady goings-on.”
Church turned to Mad Dog. “Kate said she’s explored these mines? Actually been in them?”
“Yes,” he confirmed, pushing back another pang.
“Did she say anything else? Like how many are still open or where they lead?”
“No. She changed the subject when I started asking questions.”
“What about names? Did she drop any?”
“Just an old guy named O’Farrell who had told her about them as a kid. She said she explored them alone.” Mostly.
Church’s brows knit together. “Kind of reckless, don’t you think?”
Reckless was exactly the term Kate had used.
“Who didn’t do reckless shit when they were kids?” Mad Dog asked, rising to Kate’s defense, but inside, he understood where Church’s thoughts were headed since his had taken a similar path.
Perhaps Kate had sensed that, and that was why she’d clammed up the way she did. There was more to her mine exploration than the little bit she’d shared; he was certain of it. However, that was not something he was going to divulge to the guys. Facts and direct observations were one thing. Unsubstantiated impressions were another.
“Relax, man,” Doc said. “No one is accusing Kate of anything.”
“No,” Cage agreed, slowly drawing out the word. “But she is a local with strong ties to some of our biggest critics.”
“So are Sam and Sandy,” Mad Dog pointed out. He looked to Smoke and Heff for some support.
Smoke said nothing, but Heff nodded thoughtfully and said, “That’s true, but Cage has a valid point. Loyalty is a big thing in small towns. Even after everything that happened, Sandy still doesn’t want to believe Lenny Petraski is a bad guy. They have a lot of history. It makes sense to assume that Kate might also feel conflicted if put on the spot, especially if it feels like a betrayal.”
Their impromptu meeting broke up shortly after that, but what Heff had said stayed with him the rest of the day.
Mad Dog understood his words to be a subtle warning. Both Sam and Sandy had come under criticism from some of the citizens of Sumneyville for their associations with Sanctuary. There was a growing us versus them mentality, particularly from those in Daryl Freed’s inner circle.
Was Kate part of that inner circle? By association maybe. They did give her family’s store a lot of business, and in places like Sumneyville, that kind of thing usually demanded reciprocity. Also, Sam and Sandy had alluded to a connection of a more personal nature between Kate and Luther Renninger, who, according to Cage, played for Team Freed.
The thought of Kate with any other man—past, present, or future—was enough to make his inner caveman rise to the surface with a sudden, violent urge to maim and kill. Mad Dog definitely needed more information, information that Cage couldn’t pull up on his computer. He knew just who to ask. But first, he made a phone call.
“Hey, handsome. Calling to torture me some more?”
He could clearly hear the amusement in Kate’s voice, immediately brightening his day.
“I’m anxiously awaiting payback,” he teased. “Or are you all talk and no action, Miss Handelmann?”
She laughed, a husky, sexy sound. “I guess you’ll find out when I text you tonight, won’t you?”
He certainly hoped so. “How’s your day going? Pups okay?”
“They’re doing great. Business is slow, which is a good thing since I’m running across the street every hour or so.”
“Sam asked for puppy pictures.” No sooner had the words left his mouth than his phone buzzed with an incoming text message. “That was fast.”
“I might have been in the process of sending you some when you called.”
It was his turn to laugh. “Fair enough.”
“Hey, can I ask a favor?”
“Of course,” he answered without hesitation.
“Would you mind puppy-sitting for an hour or two later this week? I need to pick up some stuff for the dogs. The voices of doom are calling for another big storm this weekend, and I want to make sure I have plenty on hand.”