Page 17 of Tango

This was the part of Ethan’s job that he liked.

It was a cloudy spring day, but the temperature was good.

The trees were bright with their new leaves.

The air was fresh.

Yeah, there were a lot worse ways to spend the day, especially when his pay far surpassed what he got for working in the hot zones as a tier one fighter.

Laughter and hooting wafted from the house, and Ethan imagined that Ms. Tifton had just opened a gift that was overly personal to everyone’s delight.

Ethan chirruped, and Tango trotted along beside him as they rounded the corner of the shoulder-height brick wall that kept the deer out of the back garden.

He planned to follow the wall line up the side of the yard, check the outbuildings, and finish his circuit. Ethan probably had time for two more rounds before he needed to post up near the front porch again and monitor the guests as they loaded into their cars and waved their goodbyes.

Ethan glanced down as Tango slowed her gait, lowering her body. A growl rumbled the air just loud enough for Ethan to hear.

Deer? Stray dog? Something had caught her attention.

Ethan raised his binoculars to scan.

Tango had focused hard on the carriage house. As she held in place, she leaned forward with her whole chest, eyes sharp, ears rotated in that direction.

Sweeping the binoculars along the roof’s slight pitch, Ethan saw something dark under the bough of the ancient tree that stretched over the slate tiles.

There was no movement, and in the shadow, the shape wasn’t something he could immediately label. Ethan paused there for a moment, letting his brain assess.

With a click of the tongue, he moved Tango forward.

Ethan would round to the front of the building to see if he had a better vantage point.

Striding forward, he was now in line of sight with the front door to the mansion as it popped open.

A guest in a flimsy pink dress came clattering out with her hands in the air for balance like a tropical bird dancing in a viral video, as she called out, “Clem! Clem!”

Her voice was tight with anxiety.

Ethan recognized her as Amanda Harcourt, the only guest allowed to keep her car at the house.

Maybe this was why her limo was in the drive.

The limo, correctly positioned with the driver’s door closest to the front door of the house, had the motor idling, prepped for quick reaction.

The driver was out, opening the passenger door, and Mrs. Harcourt was sliding in.

Once her foot disappeared into the interior, there was the crisp bang of the limo door as the driver caged the bird.

Turning, Clem locked eyes with Ethan and gave him a professional nod.

Ethan’s presence with Tango seemed to reassure Clem. He shifted from an imminent emergency that was taking place at the estate to one that existed elsewhere.

As Clem put his hand on his door handle, something vibrated the air.

Tango leaped up as if to bite at it, but Ethan kept her close with her short leash.

Clem reached for his neck, yanking something that flashed red. His brows lifted high in surprise as he turned back to Ethan with startled eyes. Clem leaped into the driver’s seat and took off before he even got the door closed all the way.

The man was tactically driving that beast of a vehicle down the drive, around the turn onto the road, then powered forward.